BELLA LOOKED AGAIN at the selection. “Those, I think?” she pointed.
“I agree,” Nathan said. “They’re very nice.”
They were standing in a florist’s shop in Manassas, Virginia, on a cold but sunny Wednesday morning, trying to decide on the funeral spray that would adorn Max’s coffin.
“There’s just... so many of them,” she whispered. “And I want to pick the perfect one.”
“Bella,” he murmured as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, “you’re doing just fine. He knew you loved him, and he loved you, and no matter what you pick out, it will be perfect.”
She sighed and laid her head on his shoulder.
When they’d arrived in Manassas late Tuesday afternoon, they’d gone to see Mr. Strader to get up to speed on what needed to be done.
He’d handed Bella an envelope with Max’s elegant handwriti
