Three months later, I stood in front of my new business, Montgomery Gardens, as the final sign was hung.

Kyle stood beside me with dirt on his hands and a genuine smile on his face.

I checked my phone and saw a message from Penelope: Tabitha had been sentenced to many years in prison.

I looked at the white rosebushes we’d moved from the old house and thought about how people say mature roses don’t survive a transplant.

My father had thought differently, believing that with enough care and strong roots, any flower can bloom again.

And as I looked at the garden, I realized that I was finally beginning to bloom too.

THE END.