“I can hear you overthinking it from here,” Claire called from the back room.

“Make something I’d love,” Gloria muttered under her breath. She could do this. And if she screwed it all up, Claire would fix it. Or Claire would be too worried about hurting her feelings and let Gloria send out a terrible arrangement that someone would hate.

“Omg, when’s the last time someone complained about getting flowers?” she asked herself. She was overthinking and over-panicking.

She picked up the order and glanced out the front window. There was an old Buick just like Glenn’s mother’s idling across the street. Gloria thought of the letter that Aldo had read and promised to drop at the station with Ty. He didn’t want it in her presence one second longer, and she appreciated that.

Gloria felt an invisible shadow creep over her. Anyone could watch her in here through the front windows. She felt exposed, unsettled.

“What is it?” Claire asked, poking her head out of the back room.

The Buick pulled away from the curb and disappeared around the corner. “Nothing. Just thought I saw something.”

* * *

“Okay, give me your honest opinion,” Gloria begged. She’d spent an hour and a half—in between the phone, the order system, and customers—on the mystery arrangement. She’d started with the hot pink Matsumoto asters and gone crazy from there. It was happy and dramatic and whimsical…in her opinion.

To a normal human, it was probably a monstrosity.

“Do you love it?” Claire prodded.

Gloria studied the arrangement with a critical eye and then gave up. “I love the crap out of it. But I don’t know if anyone else will.”

“It’s stunning. Happy and hopeful and beautiful,” Claire surmised.

“Really?”

She patted Gloria on the shoulder. “Really. Now, what are you doing for a vase?”

Gloria chewed on her lower lip. “I was thinking about that pretty yellow terracotta pitcher, but…”

“Unlimited budget,” Claire reminded her. “You’ve had your eye on that pitcher for weeks.”

It was true. There was something sunshiny about the short, curvy piece of pottery. Maybe she was hesitating because she didn’t want someone else to have it. But the pink asters and the peach roses would look amazing with it.

“Legitimately unlimited budget or ‘I’m saying unlimited, but I really mean fifty bucks tops?’”

Claire laughed. “Legitimately unlimited.”

“Who’s getting this bad boy, anyway?” Gloria asked. There was no buyer or recipient listed on the order form.

“Wasn’t it on the order? Oh, the system must be glitching again,” Claire said innocently. “It’s a pick-up, so don’t worry about scheduling delivery.”

Gloria was instantly suspicious. “Claire. Who is this for?”

“Is that my phone?” Claire said, patting her apron pockets. “Go get the vase, and I’ll help you put it all together.”