photographs of the Valentineâs baskets in the right place. They kept bouncing from the right margin to the left. If I had enough time, I would put myself through a weeklong website design course, but I didnât, so I continued to struggle, one click and drag at a time.
Around one P . M ., when I realized noon had come and gone and I was starving, I hurried to the kitchen and fetched the last slice of pomegranate, sage, and crÃ¨me fraÃ®che quiche. Iâd set aside a piece two days ago; it was one of my favorites. The flavors melded together into a delicious mouthful of yum.
While I devoured the quiche at the granite counter and drank a glass of milk, Rebecca joined me. âGuess who stopped in while you were in the back?â she said.
âMeredith?â Soon, all my girlfriends would come in to commiserate if Rebecca had anything to do with it, the frivolity of last nightâs bachelorette party a mere mist of a memory.
âNo, silly. Jordan.â
I gaped. âWhy didnât you show him to the office?â
âBecause he seemed in a hurry to find Tyanne.â
âDidnât you tell him Iâd informed her about the postponement?â
âI did, but that didnât deter him. He said he wanted to settle accounts.â
A pang of regret gripped me. I thought of all the flowers that would have to be canceled and the food and the cake that weâd commissioned from Providence PÃ¢tisserie. Not to mention all the guests that would have to be alerted. Iâd given that task to Tyanne. I thought it might ground her. I told her Iâd contact my grandparents and bring them into the loop. I hadnât yet. I knew GrandmÃ¨re would tend to me like a mother hen.
âCall him,â Rebecca suggested.
âI will when I take my next break.â I slung on my apron and trudged through the shop to make note of what needed reordering. As I slipped my hand into the pocket of my apron for the pad and pen that I usually kept there, I felt something elseâa folded square of paper. I opened it and realized it was a note. Not simply a note; a love letter. From Jordan. Blinking away the instant tears that sprang to my eyes, I read how much he loved and adored me. In closing, he asked if I would like to go on a date soon.
âWhatâs wrong?â Rebecca asked, trying to take a peek.
âNothing. Nothing at all.â I showed her the note.
She applauded. âOh, yay! What a romantic. Heâs wooing you all over again. By the way, he has nice handwriting.â
âYes, he does.â I chalked that up to the fact that he was a magnificent chef who liked everything to be just so. I eyed the note again and reflected on what Tyanne had said about Tim not writing text messages. If heâd wanted to reach Urso so badly and couldnât get hold of him by phone, why hadnât he at least attempted texting? Had he been worried that whomever he saw doing
it was the person was doing might see the text and hurt him? Well, too late for that. The person did hurt Tim; he killed himâtext or no text.
The front door to the shop flew open. In bustled my grandmother. â
!â Had she sensed that Iâd been thinking about her? âThere you are. I am so sad for Tim and his family. And for you.â She brushed a fresh dusting of snow off the shoulders of her winter coat and gathered me into her arms. We kissed
, first one cheek and then the other, and then she held me at armâs length. âYou look pasty.â
âI heard you have postponed your wedding.â
I skewered Rebecca with a glance. Had she sneaked into the office and called GrandmÃ¨re? Defiantly, Rebecca shrugged a shoulder.
âYou and Jordan,â GrandmÃ¨re went on. âYou are as sad as the pair in
âWe are nothing like them, GrandmÃ¨re. Jordan and I will be together.â Spoiler alert.