They found everything, of course.

The greenhouse full of fruit trees and grapevines. The rows and rows of empty wine bottles that would never be filled in storage. The windmill full of fermenting blueberry wine, which Isaac had noticed upon their arrival to the farm. The records of profit Anita had so meticulously, foolishly kept up-to-date. Everything, and with the "everything," they found two unrepentant bootleggers who had managed to avoid death by assassins but not the law of the land.

Amir had managed to write up a new manifest and hand it off to Felix to be delivered at once. His one phone call, Anita couldn't help but think, though she doubted Amir knew of that practice. By some miracle, the decree arrived before Amir's country could dissolve into further chaos, and his sister willingly took up the throne with Sanjay as her advisor. The country tottered back into stability, though of course there were the thousands upon thousands of absolved debts to pay off. But his sister proved a worthier ruler than their father, and after quelling some initial revolts, she began to become accepted by her country.

Amir, however, was in no position to assist her. The fines he and Anita received were heavy for a reason, and that was because they had both escaped jail time by the tips of their noses. They showed up in court in the city, highlighting the magnitude of their crime, Amir in an ill-fitting suit borrowed from Angelo and Anita in a tailored skirt and jacket, a gift from her mother that had unfortunately proven useful. Anita couldn't help but think even as they were escorted into the courtroom how Amir managed to make a bad suit look good.

Darcie had shown up to cheer her daughter and her daughter's companion on, but still she couldn't muffle her gasp of horror as the court laid down the potential outcomes: one hundred thousand gold not from bazaar earnings, or six months in the city prison for each of them. The end of the trial would decide the matter.

And oh, how it dragged on. The liquor control board of the region roared for justice, and even before the trial was halfway over, the judge seemed of a mind to lay down the prison verdict then and there, the board's whiners were so vocal. Hadn't it been enough that Anita and Amir had both pled guilty? Didn't they score brownie points for not trying to cover up their crime once caught? Apparently not. Between Darcie's sniffles as their fate loomed in the distance and the harsh words of their accusers, Anita suffered a throbbing headache throughout the entire ordeal.

Their crimes were laid bare and explained to the common masses, and then the common masses had their turn to argue for leniency. And here Zephyr Town's denizens did not forget their own. Anita may have lied to them about the true source of her profits, and their ranking of Best Bazaar in the World may have been ill-gotten, but the truth was, she was loved, Amir with her; sentiment aside, she had brought in plenty of honest business for the struggling town, and surely that was something for which to be commended, Your Honor.

She was an upstanding citizen, Felix bellowed. She worked hard, toiled under the hot sun in summer and braved the frigid winds of winter, Wilbur admitted. She was a fine influence on the children of the village, despite all this unpleasantness, Ivan reported.

And the list went on, until the judge had to demand less subjective testimony from the witnesses.

Amir too was no match for the degree by which the villagers loved him, but what interested the court the most were his unique circumstances. In such a small city, small town notwithstanding, such drama was nearly unheard of. The prosecutor made Amir go into great lengths about the details of his renouncement, and the subsequent rebellion and assassination attempt, until he reached the point of his father's arrival. Then, once he finished, he nitpicked and needled Amir for the exact specificities until Anita was fairly certain even the judge was sick of hearing about the great motherland.

Finally, and seemingly all too soon, it was over. One hundred thousand gold with money not earned from the bazaar would be handed over to the city officials to be paid out to the appropriate authorities, and since they had her records, they knew how much money she had that met that criteria. The answer was not much. Anita had stopped selling to Raul years ago

And here the panic set in, right after court was adjoined. They had a week. A week to get the appropriate finances for the fines—nearly impossible. Anita would never forget her mother's teary embrace, her chiffon and silk suit—really too fancy for a courtroom—reeking of the expensive perfume Darcie insisted on wearing, her lips pressed to her daughter's cheek and then against her ear, whispering, "You never cashed my checks, love."

And then the woman was gone, a red-eyed twinkling mess disappearing into the crowd. Anita stood, stupefied, as the city's journalists swarmed her. Amir approached her from behind and slipped his hand into hers, and though they stood together as a unified army of two against the wave of reporters, she couldn't help but feel like she was hiding a bit behind her mother's skirts.

And wasn't she? She had spoken with Amir about her mother's generous offer, and he seemed just as reluctant to use Darcie's money as Anita herself. His discomfort with the woman—and Anita's own, really—had nothing to do with it. It was pure pride, and Anita was fairly confident that the two of them would never get over their stubborn sense of dignity, for better or for worse.

But in the end, cold cash was still cold cash. She endorsed the checks. She paid off the fines. It all seemed too easy, never mind that Felix had politely requested the uprooting of her vineyards, never mind that her criminal history was freshly updated on a piece of paper, never mind that Amir received letter after letter from his sister asking for advice. She still had her fruit trees. She still was her own boss. She still had a beautifully flawed man who cared very much for her eating dinner with her every night. Wasn't it all too easy?

Anita craved challenge. It was why she had gotten into the bootlegging business in the first place. It was why she enjoyed Amir's presence so much. And it was why her next idea would make things right again.

Anita breezed back into the farmhouse, carrying with her the hustle and bustle of the city. Amir observed her over the top of his beer bottle, not a little amused, as she set her papers and files on the main room table while at the same time removing her business jacket. The energy around her surprised him, especially since he knew what she was going to say.

"Well, they rejected my application for a liquor license," she chirped, setting the jacket over the chair he was not occupying and slinging herself into it. She tipped the chair back on its back two legs, as was her habit. He knew it was bad for the chair. She knew it was bad for the chair. The chair knew it was bad for the chair, judging by the protesting creak it made. He supposed they would all have to deal with her idiosyncrasies.

He smiled softly and shook himself out of his doting thoughts. "I expected that," he told her, not unkindly. "I hope you did, too."

"Of course I did. Doesn't mean it wasn't worth a shot."

"True. Still, you seem cheerful, all things considering."

She leaned forward now, the chair groaning as it was set down on all four legs, a mischievous twinkle in her dark eyes. Amir found himself rather entranced. "I had an idea," she said.

"An idea?" He grinned back at her. "Are you sure having such ideas is such a good idea right now? It's only been a season since the trial." Spring had not ended well, to say the least. Summer had proven to the pair of them that they could bounce back from almost anything, but it had taken some time to get any customers at the bazaar. The villagers had welcomed them back after a few reproves, but Amir could tell a few of them looked at the couple differently now. With the weather getting nippier, they were in the process of figuring out how to reach out to new clientele while at the same time staying on everyone—law included—everyone's good side.

"Felix let us keep our fruit trees, right?"

"Right."

There was that twinkle, even more apparent now. "But our vineyards, we haven't replanted anything where they used to be."

"No, we haven't." He knew that look well. "What have you decided?"

Anita began furiously searching around the pile of paper she had unceremoniously dumped on the table before making a noise of discovery. She whipped out a leaf and handed it to show him. Amir took the piece of paper and inspected it.

It was an order for tea trees. And a large order, at that.

"We're going to sell tea?" he asked, raising an ice-colored eyebrow.

"Craft teas, can you imagine? The same flavors we'd imbue our wine with we can infuse in tea. It'll take a little bit for the quality of the actual tea to meet what our wine used to sell for, but I think it'll end up being even more lucrative than the liquor. Imagine if we could get Gold tea on the market," she added dreamily.

Amir was less impressed. "I don't like tea very much," he pointed out. "I can't really tell when a tea is good or not, since I don't like it in general."

"Well, we still have animals to take care of, and the actual fruit trees themselves. You do a marvelous job taking care of them, by the way, so you don't even need to worry about the tea itself other than keeping it pruned and learning to tell when it's okay to harvest. You know when fruit is ripe and delicious, after all. I'm not cutting you slack just because you don't like tea!" she laughed.

To her surprise, Amir merely cleared his throat and looked away.

"What?" she asked irritably. When he didn't answer, her frustration grew. "Amir, we can't throw away a profit just because we like liquor better. Look, you know wine is my favorite thing in the world, but we're going to have to make do with what we have."

"It's not that," he muttered.

"Well, what is it, then?"

He looked up finally, meeting her eyes, though he still felt uncertain about something. "I am honored you're including me in your plans for the future," he said, choosing his words with care so as not to be misunderstood. "To be honest, I was…afraid once these events had blown over, you would not see me as a stable part of your life anymore."

Anita stared at him, comprehension dawning. "Of course I want you as a stable aspect of my life," she said softly. "I like having you around. You're a good business partner."

Amir held her gaze. "Is that all you see me as?"

"Don't be stupid," she snapped, all traces of softness gone. "Of course not. I love you, Amir." She obviously hadn't meant to put it quite like that, but she made no motion to take the words back.

Amir could feel himself blushing, but he couldn't be roused to feel embarrassed. He almost felt like thanking her, but instinct told him that would be inappropriate for a moment such as this. "You know I love you," he murmured instead.

"You don't have to say it just because I did," Anita grumbled, glancing away. Amir noticed her cheeks were equally pink, and he felt his amusement growing. They were like a couple of teenagers.

He set his beer down on the table and walked around the table, forcing him into her line of sight. "You understand that's not why I said it," he said, catching her chin gently in his right hand. Her eyes darted between his face and some spot on the floor, but when he captured her lips with his, he knew her attention was entirely on him.

When the sun had almost entirely disappeared and its last rays of light cast long shadows through the windowpanes that crept to the bed they now shared, Amir pressed a kiss to Anita's temple.

"I think the tea is a great idea," he said into her hair.

Anita laughed and blew a stray bang out of her face. "That was easy to convince you."

"I am serious," he answered, though his grin contradicted that. "I would be honored to be employed by you, creating craft teas for those with the coin."

She shifted and pulled the sheets up around her neck, looking him dead in the eye. "You wouldn't be employed by me," she said, affronted. "We'd be working together."

"My mistake," he said with another grin. "I would love to work with you."

"I know you would. Who wouldn't?" She leaned in to give him a brief peck. "Let's get started, then."

Their business thrived, as any business did under Anita's careful eye. Amir had long mastered the basics of the farm and found he was starting to get a better understanding of the financial aspects, but more to the point, he found he enjoyed taking care of the tea trees. While he never partook of the finished product, even he would grudgingly admit it smelled nice when Anita would present him with the first tin of a new batch.

True to Anita's word, the tea trees needed a little extra love and care to produce high quality leaves, but Amir took to the job like a duck to water. He often found himself humming while he trimmed the orchard, though his happiness was in part due to his occasionally crotchety but entirely lovable partner.

When Anita talked with animation about the two extra greenhouses she was thinking of building in addition to their current one so they would have all their stock year-round, all Amir could focus on was the way her face lit up. When Anita began working on the dishes after a late dinner, Amir could never resist wrapping his arms around her while she scrubbed, even though she would berate him for getting in the way. When Anita did anything, anything at all, Amir managed to find some part of her he loved, and he was certain Anita would say the same thing about him. This wasn't to say that they didn't bicker, or even fight, because they never had been quite on the same page, but they were both more than content with the way things were.

The eve of their fourth bazaar since the tea trees had started blossoming, Anita, standing from the loft that was now mainly used as storage, surprised him as he came upstairs from the greenhouse. Between her fingers dangled a bottle of champagne. Peering closer as he stomped up the stairs, he couldn't find one of Joan's seals on it, and flashed her an alarmed look.

Anita shook her head. "I'm still allowed to brew it, just not allowed to sell. I've had this saved for some time." She glanced at him through her eyelashes in a rare moment of shyness. "I was thinking we could drink it on the bench in the field, celebrate our revival."

Amir smiled at her. "That sounds wonderful." He moved past her to hang up his work coat by the kitchen door, stopping to grab two champagne flutes, and followed her out the main door.

The stars were already out, the winter constellations long out of view. Anita led Amir to the bench in the empty pasture. She spread out a blanket on the slightly damp seat before they sat down, and they both watched the champagne cork fly into the air with a certain sense of liberty. Anita did the honors, pouring them each a flute, and they clinked glasses with smiles on their faces.

"To our successes," Amir said, "past, present, and future."

Anita laughed but acknowledged the toast. They sipped, enjoying the crisp taste of the fine sparkling wine that no one but Anita could really pull out of grapes. The moon rose as they sat in companionable silence, each thinking their thoughts.

Amir was struck with a memory, of another time they sat on this bench and watched the moon rise, and spoke up. "Do you remember," he began, but Anita turned and gently placed a kiss on his lips.

"Let's focus on how wonderful 'now' is," she said, then seemed to think better of it. "But of course I do."

The wine bottle's level sank, their spirits rose, and before long they retired to the farmhouse. It was late, and tomorrow, and the next few tomorrows, would be busy with all their future successes.

[end]

Thank you, readers, reviewers, favers and followers. Thank you for sticking through this until the end. Your support throughout all my slow updates and struggles has meant the world to me! I only hope I managed to make a story you and I both enjoy. A thousand thank yous, for making my first real long story a success.