“Neither,” Lindsey said. “If one is Darcy then the other would be Wickham, and I don’t think that either of them could be— Ugh, did you know that Mark Twain is said to have felt an ‘animal repugnance’ toward Austen’s writing?”

They all looked at her.

“What?” she asked.

“That wasn’t even an attempt at a smooth transition,” Mary said with a sad shake of her head. “It was pathetic.”

“Do you think we’ll ever have a book club meeting where my personal life is not a part of the discussion?” Lindsey asked.

The others all exchanged a look and as one they turned back and said, “No.”

Lindsey sighed.

“Oh, look,” Beth said. She was pointing at the window.

They all glanced out. A floral delivery truck had just arrived, and the driver was carrying a gorgeous bouquet of flowers into the building.

“I wonder who they’re for,” Mary said.

“My money is on Lindsey,” Charlene said.

“Yes, but is it from Sully or Robbie?” Nancy asked.

“I’m betting on Sully,” Violet said. “Robbie’s flowers are always huge; not necessarily pretty, but definitely huge.”

“Other people work here, you know,” Lindsey said. “Those could be for anyone.”

“Uh-huh,” Beth said. “Come on, let’s go see.”

En masse, they hurried from the crafternoon room, down the hall to the main part of the library.

Ms. Cole was working the checkout desk and she glanced over her glasses at the deliveryman. She was wearing shades of green today, from her vibrant green blouse to her dark-green slacks. As far as her usual color schemes went, this one was actually not too bad.

The crafternoon group peeked around the door frame. Lindsey hung in back. She wasn’t sure she was up for the embarrassment of flowers being sent to her at work. She loved her friends, but they would overanalyze and pick apart any note that came with the flowers and probably the meaning of the flowers themselves.

“May I help you?” Ms. Cole asked the deliveryman.

“I hope so,” he said. He put the vase on the counter and checked his clipboard. He pushed back his baseball cap and scratched his head. “It says here that these flowers are for a person called Titania?”

Ms. Cole straightened up and blinked at him. “Excuse me?”

“It reads, ‘For my Titania. Ever yours, Oberon.’ See?”

He turned the clipboard so that she could see it, and Lindsey saw a tiny smile curve the corners of her mouth up.

“I’ll sign for those,” Ms. Cole said. “I know who they belong to.”

“Well, thank goodness one of us does,” the man said. He took the clipboard back when she finished and turned and strode out of the building with a wave.