Chapter 11: The Forecast

By Monday morning, my flower shop had eleven customers in it and none of them wanted flowers.

Cillian had run out of his house on Saturday for his sister, and I had heard nothing since.

I checked my phone between every customer.

"You're the weather report girl," said a woman in a puffer coat.

"I'm the florist."

"Is it true? What you said on the stage?"

"Do you want the ranunculus or not?"

She bought a dozen. So did the next four people.

Dani stood on a stool with her phone propped against the register.

Her face went from pleased to furious in about a minute.

"Come here," she said. "He's on."

It was the Channel 6 morning show.

Trevor sat at the weather desk in a blue tie with a map of the region behind him.

He looked rested, and kind, and a little sad.

"Before the forecast," he said, in the soft voice, "I want to say something."

He folded his hands.

"Over the weekend a clip went around of my girlfriend having some fun at our station's event."

The anchor beside him gave a warm, indulgent laugh.

"Eliza has a wonderful sense of humor," Trevor said. "She knows how much I love her. I'd never want to embarrass her, and I hope you won't."

"Oh, he's good," I said.

"He is a snake," Dani said.

"And one more thing." Trevor smiled into the camera. "Stay tuned this weekend, folks. I have some big news."

The anchor squealed.

My stomach went cold.

"Big news," Dani said. "What big news?"

"Dani. Get your coat."

"It's Monday. We have forty orders."

"Get your coat," I said. "We're going to Hartwell and Sons."

Hartwell and Sons was a narrow shop on Walnut with a bell on the door.

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