She smiled and tucked her hair, wishing she hadn’t cut it to such an odd length. It wasn’t long enough to brush over her shoulder and have it stay, nor short enough not to annoy her. She supposed that was what happened when one cut their own hair, after midnight, in a wild state of mind that demanded everything about them change before morning.
“So I said about what you just did. That I needed it by a certain date, as promised. Then I started making contingency plans. Because the bride doesn’t really care where their flowers come from, as long as they’re there, as promised. And that’s our job. To deliver what’s promised to who we promised it to.”
Hope watched her for a breath past comfortable. “What happened with the plastic?”
“I found it at an office supply store a four-hour drive—plus
