“Nope.” Nothing. She had expressly asked Jason Sims about it, and he’d just said, “Lucille said you would figure it out.”

“And you and Lucille weren’t estranged? She never said anything about this?”

“We weren’t estranged. I didn’t see her as much as I should have.” Because I’m a selfish idiot, and instead of telling Sawyer off I just shut my mouth and fled. “But she came to Toronto for holidays, and we talked on the phone a lot.”

“Huh.”

“I could challenge it, I suppose, but Jason Sims seems to think it’s airtight.”

“Well, yes, but he probably wrote it. And no offense, but Jason Sims isn’t maybe the finest legal mind of our generation.”

Eve chuckled. “Is it weird that he kind of looks like he should be in The Sims, the video game?”

“Oh my gosh, yes! His hair looks like it’s made of plastic!”

“Maybe I should get a second opinion.”

“Definitely do not accept legal advice from a video game avatar without getting a second opinion.”

Eve wasn’t sure it would matter. Could she turn her back on Lucille’s express wish? She felt again the regret of having allowed her pride to keep her from having a more meaningful relationship with Lucille this last decade. She should have overcome her fear of running into Sawyer and visited more. She should have overcome her fear and visited once. Then at least this would have come as less of a shock.

Maya got to her feet. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to go get us something decent to drink. You want to share a bottle of wine?”

“Sure.” Why not? She’d already had half a beer, a vile green shooter, and an orange syrupy thing. What could go wrong?

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

What could go wrong, it turned out, was that she could end up locked in the refrigerator at A Rose by Any Other Name.

“Oh my God! No! You have the key in there with you!” Maya, on the other side of the glass—the normal, inside-the-floral-shop side—clapped her hands over her mouth. Then she cracked up.

“What?” Oh, crap, she did have the key. She’d taken it from drunk and clumsy Maya, who hadn’t been able to get it into the lock, opened the fridge herself, and gone inside to get the flowers Maya wanted. And then, apparently, let the door close behind her with the key still in her hand. How completely ridiculous. Eve futilely rattled the definitely locked door, but she was giggling, too.

She was drunk. Just a little. Not as much as Maya, and not so much that tomorrow would be a write-off. But she was, apparently, tipsy enough to have endorsed Maya’s idea that they should raid her father’s shop for flowers so they could go to the beach and chuck them into the bay.