CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“Special delivery for Miss Becca Grant.”
Becca excused herself from the evening rush to meet a flower boy at the front door. A kid no older than eighteen held the biggest bouquet that she had ever seen. The flowers covered his face, and he had to stick his neck around it to see her.
“For me?” she asked. “I think you’ve got the wrong place, kid.”
“Becca Grant?” the boy asked.
She accepted the flowers. “I wasn't expecting these.”
The boy handed her a card. She opened it with one hand. A message was printed on it in computerized cursive handwriting: “We love what you're doing with the Wicked Cat. Keep being a model for Chicago. Yours truly, The Coffee Roasters Association of America.”
Becca read the message with skepticism. Sure, she was doing a great job, but why fl
