Chapter Twenty-OneOn Monday morning, Molly wandered around outside drinking her first cup of coffee and looking at the daffodils. “Bobo! Don’t trample the flowers!” she shouted, as Bobo flew straight into the border and began digging furiously.
Molly stepped in and dragged her back out, then bent down and inhaled the sweet scent of the flowers, closing her eyes so that all her attention was on the complicated, exhilarating smell.
“Okay, I’m doing it,” she said, standing back up with a sudden clarity of purpose. She could not have explained why sniffing the daffodil had made her decide to buy the scooter that day—maybe something about carpe diem and living for the moment—but whatever the reason, she went inside to grab her handbag and set off for Castillac and the little shop on the far e
