Allison was my Bakerstown counterpart for the Business-to-Business meeting. Of course, they called it “Bakerstown’s Open for Business,” which I thought was a little cutesy. Of course, my committee’s name could be seen as a little dry. But then, I named my shop Coffee, Books, and More—which demonstrated how I liked names to reflect what was sold in the place. Or the purpose of the committee. Some days, I’d wished I’d thought a little longer and named the shop something cute, like The Human Bean, or A Cup of Stories, but at that point I already had branding stuff done up for CBM.
I made my way through the potted plants, taking in the strong floral smell, which always seemed a little cold to my senses. “Hey, Allison. This is pretty.” I touched a petal on a pansy. “Actually, I’m here to ask you a favor, but I don’t know if you can tell me or not.”
“You want to know who sent a bouquet of flowers, right?” She laughed at my shocked face. “Cards get lost, and it’s not like I’m a doctor or lawyer. There’s no expectation of privacy.” She turned to her computer. “However, I don’t remember having a delivery sent to you this week. I sent two batches of flowers to your aunt. Is that what you’re asking about?”
“Two batches?” Aunt Jackie had told me that Josh had sent flowers, but had Harrold sent the others?
“Yeah, it was weird. One had a Get Well Soon card, and the other was a thanks for the great evening message.” Allison raised her eyebrows. “Your aunt is a popular girl.”
“Always,” I said. “Anyway, it’s not about Jackie’s flowers, or mine. I wanted to know who’s been sending flowers to Resting Acres. It’s a recurring order to a woman named MJ?”
“Carnations.” Allison nodded, tapping on her keyboard. “I bill monthly, but I’ve had the standing order for the last six months.”
I waited as she pulled up the right record.
“Here it is.” She squinted at me. “This is odd. The order’s from South Cove, a Dustin Austin? Do you know him?”
I nodded. “Thanks. That’s what I thought.”
“Is something wrong?” Allison watched me closely. “Don’t tell me you’re seeing someone else. I thought you were dating that cute detective.”
“I am. No, this is for a friend.” I tapped on the counter. “Got to go, I’m taking Aunt Jackie to lunch and she gets grumpy when she’s hungry.”
“Call me and we’ll do coffee next week. It’s been too long since we’ve talked.” Allison waved and turned back to her floral arrangement. That had been too easy. Now I had to find a way to tell Greg the information I’d discovered without him getting upset.
Or I could just bite the bullet and drop into the station after I dropped off Aunt Jackie.
Driving to the restaurant, I decided that this could wait until morning. After my shift, I’d stop by the station with a cheesecake for the gang and then tell Greg what I knew. After he’d seen the cheesecake.
CHAPTER 13
I hadn’t slept well, my mind kicking around the Austin files and what I suspected would be Greg’s reaction when he found out that Jackie and I had gone sleuthing. I snorted as I sipped my coffee and read a magazine article on ways to make your kitchen sparkle for under two hundred bucks. The next house project was the exercise room, which would be either upstairs or out in Miss Emily’s painting shed. The shed had a lot more room, as Greg kept pointing out, but my fear was I’d never actually make it the twenty steps to work out.
Emma put her nose into my hand and nuzzled. I looked down into my dog’s brown eyes and she barked once, then pointedly glanced at the door. I checked the wall clock. We had plenty of time. “Hold on, let me get changed.”
I headed upstairs to change into my running clothes. The only way Emma would push me out the door to use a workout room was if she had a bag of bones hidden behind the weight bars. I considered Greg’s attachment to it—maybe I could give in there and he wouldn’t be as upset about the sleuthing. I shook my head. I was going to get a lecture this morning no matter what and I might as well get it over with.
Right now, though, Emma and I had a date with the seagulls. And maybe, if she was lucky and I wasn’t alert, a dead fish.
Sasha was sitting at one of the outside tables when I finally arrived at the shop. I smiled as she tucked her book into her bag; she was hooked on historical romance, although with her schoolwork and the two book clubs she ran for the store, she hardly had any free time. However, the girl still got through a book a week for her own pleasure. I was amazed. Dressed in a patterned dress and tennis shoes, her hair tied up with a headband, she looked more like a college student with a part-time job than a single mom trying to make ends meet.
“If you keep beating me here, I’m going to have to give you your own key.” I unlocked and held the door open for her, flipping on the lights as we crossed the threshold.