Gloria wiped her hands on her apron and walked into the shop. The yellow pitcher was currently playing home to a pretty tangle of exotic greenery. She transferred the greenery to a new concrete planter and brought the pitcher into the back.

Claire took over, filling the pitcher with filtered water and flower food before tucking the arrangement in place.

“Oh,” Gloria sighed. It was perfect. And she had made it.

“Here’s the card,” Claire said, handing over the small envelope.

“Should I get one of the card holders—Why is my name on this?”

Claire beamed. “Surprise!”

“You’re kidding me.” Gloria stared down at the white paper in her hand, afraid to open it.

“Go on,” Claire prodded. “Open it!”

Gloria slid her thumb under the flap.

Beautiful flowers for (and by) a beautiful woman.

Love,

Aldo

“You sneaky, underhanded…” But Gloria was out of adjectives. It was lovely and perfect and so very thoughtful.

“He signed it ‘Love, Aldo,’” Claire pointed out in case Gloria had missed that.

“I see that. I should be annoyed that he made me work for these,” Gloria said.

“But you’re not,” Claire teased.

She wasn’t. It was simply perfect.

“He snuck the card while you were working on Jamilah’s arrangement today and hid it on a shelf then texted me.”

“Diabolical,” Gloria said, fussing with an aster. “Absolutely diabolical.” The smile on her face couldn’t get any wider.

46