The next day breakfast arrived at my door on a tray with a red rose and a note in Christopher’s handwriting: Frank, buddy, we need to talk. XOX Christopher
The “buddy” zinged right through my heart. A red rose and buddy? Breakfast delivered? Was it at my door so I wouldn’t come downstairs to eat?
My sadness colored the rose gray, and the breakfast became dust.
Depressed, I left town for the day, walking in the woods so I didn’t have to deal with Christopher, Henry, Riley, or the townspeople who would show up to see what was going on with the remodeled hardware store.
When the woods didn’t cheer me up, I drove to Sacramento but didn’t have the heart to party. I wallowed, took a tour of the capitol, and went to a movie. I called Riley to let him know I was still alive, but really, I wasn
