But after things turned sour with River, all that had changed. She’d bought her first bottle of Bonner’s. While she drank, she remembered every one of the good moments with River. Bonner bourbon did that, fostered sentimentality. It was part of what had made it so popular and something the town attributed to the dark-corn mash, but the next morning, without fail, she woke up with a killer hangover. Not that it had stopped her from drinking again.

Her family would’ve blamed it on the bourbon. Addison had blamed it on herself. These days, she always had a bottle of Bonner’s on hand in her kitchen.

She shifted the car into park and leaned back against the headrest. Her heart twisted in her chest, and she welcomed the ache. One breath. Two. She said a quick prayer to the universe that she’d run into River again. And a second prayer that if she did run into him, she’d say the right thing for once.

Then she grabbed the flowers her grams had asked her to hand deliver. Maura and Irene may have hated Sylvia with a passion, but in Yarrow, you killed your enemies with kindness.

She started for the distillery’s main offices. The bourbon festival preparations were underway. The Bonners would be going straight from the funeral to the celebration, kicking things off with the annual memory harvest, but maybe that’s how Christian would’ve wanted to be remembered.

Her eyes snagged on a silver Mazda in the employee-marked spaces with a bumper sticker that read, “Save the bees!” She smiled. River hadn’t removed every part of her from his life.

When she walked through the doors to the office, she was greeted by a lobby covered in floral arrangements. Yet, as elaborate and expensive as most of them were, none of them carried the power of the shadow garden. The Haywoods’ bouquet put the others to shame with its black hollyhock and sunflowers, inky lilies and dark, star-shaped borage blossoms.

“Welcome to Bonner—” The young woman behind the front desk stopped short as she looked up. “Oh! Miss Haywood.”

Addison smiled. “My family asked me to drop these off for Sylvia.”

“Certainly, let me just ring Mrs. Bonner.”

“That’s not necessary,” Addison said. She didn’t want to get caught up in the drama.

“I insist.” She lifted the receiver from the phone on her desk. “Mrs. Bonner? Yes, Addison Haywood’s here with flowers.”

Before Addison could sit on one of the plush couches out front, Sylvia stepped through the door just past the reception area. “Addison,” she said. “This is a surprise.”

“My grams wanted to send her sympathy.” Addison lifted the vase Maura had painstakingly arranged.