Damn! I’d wanted to make the announcement at breakfast. We’d only revealed the news to our family two and a half days ago. “Who told you? My mom?”
“Would you like the whole list?”
I heard paper rattling.
“First off, your mum rang up at eight o’clock on the nose.”
“That figures.”
“And five times thereafter.”
Still figured.
“Then your cousin Jillian phoned—”
The mouth that roared.
“—but said she was going back to bed, so she would call you at lunchtime. The next call was from Marco’s mum.”
“She must have wanted to let me know she made it back to Ohio safely. She was supposed to get in late last night.”
“I believe she’s still here, love. She said she’d see you later today.”
What? No! That wasn’t the plan. The plan was for Francesca Salvare to go back home so she wouldn’t be here to pester us for wedding details. Because there weren’t any yet.
“Then Marco called,” Grace said, “but he didn’t say a word about the engagement.”
He’d probably phoned to enlighten me as to why his mother was still here. I couldn’t wait for that explanation. “Okay, Grace. Thank you. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“I hope so, dear. A large shipment of flowers just arrived, and Lottie said many of them are damaged. She’s trying to sort through them now, but we’ll be opening soon, and you know the rush we always have in the coffee shop on Monday mornings. And don’t forget today is the meeting of the Monday Afternoon Ladies’ Poetry Society.”
Twelve senior citizens waxing poetic about the benefits of fiber. “Can’t wait. Listen, Grace, this cat appears to be a stray. If the vet can’t determine the owner, I’m going to have to bring her home with me unless . . . you or Lottie want to take it?”
I heard her whispering, then heard Lottie whisper back. Then Grace said, “Shall I keep your breakfast in the fridge then?”
No takers. Damn. “Yes, please.”
Cold scrambled eggs and hard toast. Could my day get any worse?
“Just a minute, dear,” Grace said. “Lottie would like a word.”
“Abby,” Lottie said a moment later, “how did it happen that you hit the cat?”
“I don’t know, Lottie. The cat must have darted out just as I turned off Concord.”
“Why did you turn off Concord?”
“Traffic jam.”
“Oh, good,” she said with relief in her voice. “I’ll see you back at Bloomers.”
“Wait, Lottie. What’s up? Why all the questions?”
“I just wanted to make sure you weren’t trying to shake a tail.”
“A tail?”
“Well, a stalker.”
I was wrong. The day could get worse.
At once I felt someone’s eyes upon me. Goose bumps dotted my arms as I glanced around. Then I saw the receptionist standing at the glass door, motioning me over.
“Okay, that’s all,” Lottie said.
That’s all? “Lottie, don’t leave me hanging like this—”
The line went dead.
The receptionist was motioning frantically now, so I ended the call and hurried toward the door. “Sorry,” I said, following her inside. “It was a business call.”
“That’s okay. Dr. Kelly just wanted you to know that there’s no microchip.” She smiled. “Looks like you have yourself a cat.”
Other Flower Shop Mysteries
Mum’s the Word
Slay It with Flowers
Dearly Depotted
Snipped in the Bud
Acts of Violets
A Rose from the Dead
Shoots to Kill
Evil in Carnations
Sleeping with Anemone
Dirty Rotten Tendrils