The McAllisters have never quit, either. In fact, they’ve never quit so much that the family are now billionaires. My high school bears their name, as does the hospital I was born in and the library where I borrow books. It’s not exactly Capulets and Montagues or anything, but I can’t say that I don’t feel kind of resentful and weird about the whole situation. Mom is a partner at McAllister Venture Capital, so that tells you how much she cares about the family sort-of feud (not at all). Hannah, on the other hand, despises the McAllisters. Her second choice for the Katsuyama family motto would probably be We Hate the McAllisters. But I’ll come back to all that later. As Hannah and Mom also like to say, we need to be here, now.

Now, the phone rings, and even though we’ve just closed up for the night, Hannah answers it. You never know what a difference that last-minute bouquet might make in a person’s life, she always says. It might be just the thing that a grieving widow needs to brighten her evening. Or it might lead to a romantic reconciliation and then a baby. Or, if you want to be pragmatic about it, it could lead to another sale and possibly even a regular customer—something we could definitely use these days.

Turns out it’s one guy who wants one thing: a boutonniere. He says he’s right around the corner and he’ll be here in a couple of minutes. Doesn’t sound like a life-altering possibility to me, but I’m not running the store.

Ten minutes after closing time, I let him in the front door. He’s not young, maybe forties or fifties, wearing rimless glasses, khakis, a blue button-down shirt, a blazer, and a bow tie—kind of an unusual look in Silicon Valley. Especially the bow tie. Or maybe not—Silicon Valley is full of quirky people. “It’ll only take a minute. I just need a little flower to put in my lapel, here,” he says, and glances down at his blazer.

I happen to know that this will take about twenty minutes, not just one, but I smile and say, “Special occasion?”

Blazer Guy blushes a little. “First date. Thought I’d do a little something special, you know? Make a good impression.”

Before I can respond, Hannah comes bustling in from the back. “Oh, how sweet! What a lucky . . . woman?”

“Uh, yes. Woman,” Blazer Guy confirms with a nervous laugh.

“And it’s been a while since you’ve dated, perhaps?” Hannah continues.

He turns bright red and says, “Oh . . . is it that obvious? How could you tell?”

Because, you funny little man, I think, you’re wearing a freaking boutonniere on a first date.