Chapter 15: In the Light

Anneliese's POV

I woke at the kitchen table with a man's jacket on my shoulders and the letter gone.

The jacket was charcoal wool. It smelled of rain and his soap.

I stood there holding it, and I didn't know whether to hang it up or throw it out the window.

I hung it on the back of the chair.

Then I went down and opened the shop, because it was Tuesday, and Tuesday has orders.

Fran came in at nine with two coffees and a look.

"He left his car on Hale Street all night," she said. "The baker watched it."

"I know."

"Are we speaking about it or are we arranging lilies?"

"Lilies."

"Great. I love lilies."

We worked side by side for an hour without talking.

The shop was full by ten. Word had gone round the block, and people came in who never bought flowers.

A retired teacher bought tulips and patted my hand.

A man in a tie bought a dozen white roses and said, "For the sake of your window."

At ten forty, the bell over the door rang, and the shop went quiet.

Ansel stood on the mat in his shirtsleeves.

He hadn't shaved. His eyes were red.

Nine customers turned to look at him, and one of them was holding a watering can.

"Miss Deming," he said.

"Mr. Buckingham."

"I need a minute."

"I'm with customers."

"I know." He looked at the room. "I'd like them to hear this."

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