Chapter 10: Returned to Sender

On Saturday morning, Jocelyn came downstairs carrying all of them.

She had gathered up every bouquet that was left in the front hall and the kitchen and on the porch.

There were nine boxes and a bucket.

She had them stacked in her arms to her chin, and she looked like a hedge in a red coat.

"I need a favor," she said.

"Name it."

"Help me carry these to Charles Street."

I looked at Ethan.

He looked at the ceiling and then went to get the car.

The florist on Charles Street was a narrow shop with a green awning and a long line of customers on weekends.

We pushed through the door with arms full of roses, and the bell jingled over our heads.

Every head in the shop turned.

Behind the counter, a woman in an apron said, "Oh, is that for a return? We don't usually."

"It is for a return," Jocelyn said.

She put the roses on the counter one box at a time.

She did it carefully and without hurry, the way she did everything when she was furious.

"These belong to Leighton Prescott.

"He's been sending them to my sister's house all week, though they're meant for me. I'd like him to stop."

The woman's mouth fell open.

"I'm so sorry, I'll tell him."

"It isn't your fault," Jocelyn said. "Tell him I'm sorry for the trouble and I won't be needing any more."

She set the last box down.

Then the bell jingled again behind us, and a voice said, "Jocelyn."

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