Page 56 of A Very Happy Easter

“Just a guy who respects his girlfriend enough not to cheat on her.”

Salma squeezed my hand harder. “Oh, my ovaries.”

Mine too, and Heath wasn’t even my real boyfriend.

Jerilyn decided she’d drive Salma, Polly, Kirsten, and Vic home if Heath would give me a ride. Of course he agreed, and when Salma tried earwigging on our conversation, I spun her around and gave her a gentle push towards the car.

“You don’t have to take me,” I said to Heath. “Aren’t you working?”

“Officially, I clocked out two hours ago.”

“I’m so sorry I messed up your evening.”

“I was going to swing by to see you later anyway.”

“You were?”

“I know you hate Valentine’s Day, but as your official fake boyfriend, I figured I should get into the spirit of things.” For the second time in our relationship, he pulled a velvet bag out of his pocket. “It’s not much. I just thought it matched the colour of your eyes.”

He’d bought me a brooch. A delicate flower, blue crystal with a yellow centre and a silver stem, small and understated, exactly the kind of thing I loved.

“Thank you.” I leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. Stuff like that was getting easier now. “That’s so sweet, but you already sent me the flowers.”

“Wish I could take the credit, but I didn’t send you any flowers.”

“You didn’t? A dozen red roses?”

“Wasn’t me. Did they come with a card?”

“It just said ‘thinking of you.’” And suddenly, those three words took on a whole different meaning. Oh, hell. My heart began racing. “If it wasn’t you, then who sent them?”

“A friend? Or would your brother do something like that?”

“On Valentine’s Day? That would be weird, and even if he did, he’d sign the card. Eis knows I hate surprises.”

“How did they arrive?”

“A courier handed them to me as I was leaving the house to come here. At least, I assumed he was a courier. He was wearing a jacket with a logo, and he asked which one of us was Edith Kennedy-Renner.”

“You don’t usually double-barrel your name, do you?”

“Not around friends. When I went to university, I decided it sounded a bit pretentious and dropped the Kennedy part for informal situations.”

I’d never drop the Renner, not with all my good memories of Grandma Elizabeth.

“Which suggests it wasn’t a close friend who sent the flowers. Perhaps a client?”

I shook my head. “No, I never give out my home address. I’m so sorry about tonight.”

“It’s fine, Edie. Don’t stress over it.”

I fretted the whole way home. Salma had left the roses on the sideboard in the hall, and now the sight of them turned my stomach. What once was beautiful had turned ugly. Heath studied them for a moment, then picked up the card that was lying next to the vase.

“No hint of the origin, which is strange in itself. Most florists would include a phone number or a logo—it’s free advertising, isn’t it? What time were they delivered?”

“About eight o’clock?”

“Late for a flower delivery.”

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