Gemotions

The note was tucked neatly between the storm door and the frame. "Can we talk about the oak on the line?" it read in polite, looping handwriting. Sarah practically bounced down the porch steps, the little bell above the door jangling merrily as she went. Her stomach did a flip-flop. This could be it. This could *finally* be it.

She found Mr. Henderson puttering in his vegetable garden, a straw hat shading his face. "Mr. Henderson!" she called, her voice a little too loud, maybe. Her hands were clasped in front of her, practically vibrating with energy.

"Ah, Sarah," he said, straightening up slowly. "Come to admire the tomatoes, are we?"

"Better," she replied, unable to keep the grin off her face. "About the tree…"