He shook her off. “I'm not a customer, not really. I saw someone come in here. Someone I have to talk to. Please help me.”
“Who do you think you saw?” the woman dropped her faux enticing act. He glanced again and the chill in her blue eyes seemed to burn into him.
“My intended,” he replied. “Miss Fletcher. She was sewing…”
The woman's jaw dropped. “Are you joking?”
“Why would I joke? Please, help me find her. I've been so worried.”
“So you're real, are you, Devin?”
“How do you…”
“She cries your name in her sleep. She talks about you until we're all sick of it. I thought you were some excuse she made.” Eliza tortured him with a long, considering look, as though debating some heavy question. Then she reached out and pressed the center of a flower. The wall swung open.
“Thank you,” De
