“Whoa,” Julia muttered. “Do you see the way he’s looking at you? Geoff looked at me that way and a month later I was pregnant. You’re either going to be the love of his life, or his next victim depending on whether you’re the romance or thriller type. Maybe he’s going to use rose petals to bury your body. Or the body of his wife.”

“Stop it!”

“Maybe he’s staring at your dress. I wish I could get away with wearing that. You manage to look edgy and arty. I’d look a mess. I mean—red dress and purple tights. No one but you would think to put those colors together. Kaitlin would refuse to be seen with me, whereas she thinks you’re the coolest person on the planet. And where did you find those earrings?”

“In the market.”

“Whatever. You’re rocking that look. Although I wouldn’t want to look at you if I had a hangover.”

“I like clothes to be—”

“—happy. I know. You’re all about spreading a smile. Everyone else I know is moan, moan, moan, me included, but you’re like an oasis of sunshine in an otherwise dark and stormy life.”

“Your life will be stormier if you don’t finish that bouquet fast.”

Julia snipped the rest of the stems and then glanced up again. “Still there. The man is going to get frostbite soon. Look at his eyes. Full of secrets.”

Flora didn’t answer. She had secrets, too. Secrets she’d never shared. That wasn’t the saddest part. The saddest part was that no one had ever been remotely interested in digging deep enough to find them. No one had wanted to know her that well.

“Maybe he simply doesn’t know which flowers to choose.”

“Well if anyone is going to find out the truth about him, it’s you.” Julia added foliage, and tied the stems so that that recipient would have to do nothing but put them in a vase. “People tell you everything, probably because you’re too polite to tell them to shut up.” She blew her hair out of her eyes. “You care.”

Flora did care. Like flowers, people came in all colors, shapes and sizes and she appreciated them all. Her mother had been the same. People would walk into the store for flowers, and stay for coffee and a chat. As a child, Flora had sat quietly among the blooms, bathed in the warmth and the scent and the soothing hum of adult conversation.

Finally, the door opened and he stepped into the shop, bringing with him a flurry of cold air and a sense of anticipation. Heads turned. There was a lull in the conversation as people studied him, and then returned to whatever they’d been doing before he’d made his entrance.