J.L. Davinroy
The home of Mr. Reginald J. Williams is a squat, slate-grey row house, overlooking San Francisco Bay. Abby peers at it over the top of the immense bouquet of calla lilies she’s carrying and is relieved to see the Ohio license plate on the Toyota in the drive. Reginald’s son must have arrived this morning. It is finally time.
Abby steadies the flowers in one hand and knocks with the other. Tina, Reggie’s youngest daughter, answers. Her red-rimmed eyes take in the enormous arrangement and she frowns.
“More flowers? Why do people keep sending these? Dad has allergies!” Fresh tears fall from her eyes as she gathers the vase to her chest and steps back to place it on a side table.
While Tina is distracted, Abby takes the opportunity to squeeze her way into the home and begin h
