“That’s for the patronage,” I said, waving to Mr. Hawkins as he headed out after placing a large order of flowers. “I hope to see more of you.”
“Very well, Veronica. Say hi to that little angel for me,” he replied, pushing open the door with a smile.
I took a deep breath, returning to the ledger to finish logging the sale when a voice, one I hadn’t heard in years, froze me in place. That voice, cold and commanding, had chased me out of Canada three years ago.
“Good morning. My son said he got some flowers from this shop yesterday. I’d like to order more for his wedding ceremony.”
The words echoed in my head like an alarm. Slowly, I looked up, and there she stood—Mrs. Carlos. Her eyes widened with shock, her mouth forming a perfect O.
“Veronica Carlisle?” she gasped, her voice breathy
