Free When Light Breaks by Patti Callahan Henry Page A

like a flag of defeat.
    A hand came out the driver’s-side window and waved. My hand dropped to my side.
    “Kara Larson.”
    I whipped around. Frieda stood on the front steps. “You coming or trying to pick up cowboys in the parking lot?”
    “I’m coming.” I stiffened my shoulders, gathered a pile of folders and attempted to ignore my desire to climb back in my car and drive in the opposite direction from Frieda, my job, this meeting.
    I followed my boss, mentally flipped through the agenda for the meeting, and attempted to ignore my curiosity about lost love that tapped its persistent finger on my mind.

CHAPTER FIVE

    I pushed open the door to the Flower Emporium on Second Street and the scent of fragrant flowers washed over me, loosening the knotted muscles in my neck. I could only identify the gardenia, but there were others in the mix, heavy in the air. Charlotte and the store owner, her mother, Mrs. Carrington, glanced up from the counter, where they sat on bright pink bar stools. Flowers and plants surrounded them in baskets and vases, as though they sat in the middle of a jungle of potted wildlife.
    “Well, thanks for joining us.” Charlotte stood and touched her watch, but a smile covered her face, as it always did.
    “Don’t start with me,” I said. “What a day. Do you have any food?”
    Mrs. Carrington squinted at me. “When was the last time you ate? You look like a waif.”
    “Oh, it’s this black outfit. . . .” I ran a hand across my abdomen and black cotton shirt.
    Mrs. Carrington, who’d known me since birth, rolled her eyes. “Yeah, and it’s this white sweater that makes me look chubby.” She reached under the counter and pulled out a Zone bar, then threw it to me. “Eat, child. We have decisions to make.”
    I nodded and sat on the stool next to Charlotte. “Have you been waiting long?”
    “About a half hour. But we made all the decisions for you.” She winked.
    “I am so sorry. I’ve been looking forward to this all day—seeing you two.”
    “Bad day?” Charlotte asked.
    “I have an idea.” I sat up. “Let’s run down to Bay Street, grab a couple oyster sandwiches and do the flowers another time.”
    Charlotte balanced her elbow on the countertop, leaned into her palm. “Let’s get this over with.” She looked at her mom. “She had a little fender bender today.”
    “Oh, dear.”
    “The weirdest thing happened afterward, though,” I said. “He followed me to work to make sure I got there okay, then he took off without my name or number, so I can’t pay to have his car fixed.”
    “I bet he got your license plate or something.”
    “I don’t know. It was very strange.”
    “Well, you’re the one who always believes in angels.” Charlotte smiled with that sideways grin she has when she is right and I am wrong. “Maybe he was an angel reminding you to slow down.”
    “I don’t think an old man driving a pickup truck qualifies as an angel with messages,” I said.
    “How do you know what qualifies?” Mrs. Carrington sat down, plopped a book of bouquet photos in front of me. “Now, let’s get these flowers decided. You said you wanted white peonies, and if you want them in May, we have to order them now from Israel or we’ll be paying premium price and be lucky to get remainders.”
    “Peonies were my Mama’s favorite.”
    Mrs. Carrington patted my shoulder. “I know . . . so let’s get them ordered.”
    I lifted my Tiffany-blue satchel, yanked out the pink wedding binder and flipped to “Flowers.” I found the picture I’d torn out the day I’d met Maeve, and handed it to Mrs. Carrington. “Can we duplicate this? I love the Swarovski crystals coming out of the flowers.”
    “Absolutely.” She pulled a pad out from below the counter.
    “Really?”
    Mrs. Carrington sketched and made notes, taking over the designing in one fell swoop. I turned to Charlotte.
    “I’ve got to find another band.”
    “Flowers, Kara, flowers. Focus.”
    “Okay