Chapter 12
Connor sat on the neat, perfectly level concrete steps going down into the Michaelson’s back yard, not sure when, where, or even if he should call Trish back.
The sweet scent of what he would have sworn was jasmine rose around him, but all he could see close by were mounds of mums in every color under the sun. Just like all the flowerbeds and shrubs and trees he saw throughout the huge yard, the mums were coordinated and arranged with an artist’s eye rather than the sterile demonstration units he’d thought of earlier.
Whether he could see it or not, jasmine so late into the season in a cold climate didn’t make much sense. Just like all kinds of things weren’t making sense to him right now.
His mom had passed by a few minutes ago, with nothing more than a squeeze of his shoul
