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A headline on the front page caught my eye. There was a missing person. Brielle Thayer. The photo showed a young woman, probably in her late teens or early twenties, with blond hair and bold lipstick. She looked familiar, but I didn’t recognize her name. I’d probably seen her around town, but I didn’t know her personally.
“Did you see this?” I asked, angling the page so Stacey could see it.
“Missing girl? I did hear about that. Apparently she ran away from home a few times when she was younger, so I’m not sure why they’re acting like she was kidnapped or something. She’s probably just at a friend’s house or with a boyfriend.”
“Do you know her?”
“No, but my friend works with her mom. Lots of family drama, I think.”
Poor thing. The article said she was nineteen and a friend had reported her missing. Hopefully she’d be found soon. Even if there was conflict with her family, her parents had to be so worried.
The front door opened, tinkling the bell above the door, and I looked up hoping to see a walk-in. But it was a delivery guy with yet another bouquet of flowers.
“More?” Stacey asked. “Wow, he’s really trying to make an impression.”
The delivery guy glanced at the two large arrangements already on the front counter. “Um, where do you want this?”
I stood. “I’ll just take them. Thanks so much.”
He handed me the flowers. “No problem. Have a good one.”
Interestingly, the new bouquet was completely different from the first two. Those both had red and white roses mixed with other white flowers and greenery, creating a coordinating, if not identical, set.
This one had deep red roses, but also bright yellow sunflowers and an assortment of purples, oranges, and greens. It was a lovely mix of romantic and cozy, and sunflowers were my favorite. I’d never seen anything like it.
“What does the card say?” Stacey asked.
I put it down on the front desk and pulled out the card. I had to read it twice before the words made sense.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“This isn’t from Preston.”
“What? Who else is sending you flowers?”
“Zachary Haven.”
“Why is Zachary Haven sending you flowers?”
“I don’t know.”
“What does it say?” She plucked the card from my hands. “For Marigold. Love, Zachary. That’s it?” She turned it over. “Nothing else?”
“I’m as confused as you are. Unless they’re to thank me for going to the hospital with him when he got hurt.”
“You’d think he’d make that clear. But maybe he does that guy thing where he assumes you know what he’s thinking. My husband does that all the time. I have to remind him I’m not a mind reader.”
She held the card out and I took it. For Marigold. Love, Zachary. What would have made him suddenly decide to send me flowers at work?
The other day, when I’d run into him outside the salon, I’d thought maybe things had changed between us. I didn’t know why or what that meant, but he’d been so different. Then I’d been at the Havens’ yesterday afternoon and it had been back to the same old Zachary. One look at me and he was out the door.
And now he was sending me flowers?
I was so confused.
The door opened again and this time it was a walk-in. But not just any walk-in. Louise Haven.
Louise was Annika and Zachary’s aunt. She was dressed in her signature velour tracksuit—today’s was royal blue. Her silver hair was in a loose bun and she wore peach lipstick and a little more blush than she really needed. She was a sweet lady who spent her time flitting around town, either doing good deeds like taking casseroles to friends in need, or looking for opportunities to play matchmaker for her nephews.
