Silver Bells. Mary Burton
and white lights. The wreath on the door was artificial, too. It got a new red bow every year. We used to go swimming on Christmas Day and have a turkey. I did my best to sleep through the whole season.”
“I upset you, didn’t I? I’m sorry, Mandy. That wasn’t my intention.” Hank stretched out a hand to pat her arm.
Amy blinked away tears. “Well, we’ve arrived. Does Karen Powell still own OK Florist?”
“Yep. She expanded a few years back, added a nursery, and sells outdoor plants as well. Even trees. The parking lot is always full in the spring and summer.”
A bell tinkled over the door when Amy opened it. She looked around. It was just the way she remembered. New merchandise, but the old beams were still there, with greenery and decorations dangling downward. “It looks like a Wonderland with all the trees. It’s so festive, with all the greenery and red and white Santas. My gosh, I don’t know what to buy. I want a little of everything.”
“Then let’s get a little of everything,” Hank said happily. Damn, he was getting a large dose of Christmas spirit all of a sudden.
“Okay, but first I want to order the flowers for Mr. Carpenter so they can deliver them today. How about if I order a large arrangement and put your, Ben’s, and my name on the card?”
“Sure. Sounds great. Oh, and will you include Ben’s wife, Alice? Just tell me how much our share is.”
“No problem.”
Amy walked over to the counter and spoke to the girl behind the computer. She explained what she wanted, signed a card, and handed her a credit card. “I’m going to want a dozen or so of your poinsettias. All red. Shall I pick them out and put them by the door?” The frazzled clerk nodded as she punched in the order.
Amy and Hank spent the next hour picking out just-right poinsettias, knickknacks, and whatever pleased Amy. The clerk rang everything up while a young boy loaded the cargo hold of the Range Rover. She ripped off a tape and slapped it down on the counter in front of Hank along with Amy’s credit card. “Sign on the X.”
“No, that’s not my card,” Hank said, picking up the credit card. “Hold on, I’ll get my friend to come in and sign the slip.”
Hank walked over to the door and tapped on it. Amy turned around and smiled. He held up her credit card and motioned her to come inside. Without meaning to, he looked down at the platinum card in his hand and saw the name Amy Lee. He frowned. Who the hell was Amy Lee? What was Mandy Leigh doing with someone else’s credit card?
Hank’s stomach crunched into a knot as he stared at his old childhood friend as she walked toward him, a smile on her face. He realized at that moment he didn’t know a thing about Mandy Leigh. All he knew was she was home for the holidays and lived in California. Otherwise, all their conversations were on the generic side. He’d been loose as a goose and opened up and confessed to loving her.
The name Amy Lee sounded so familiar. Did he know her when they were kids? Was she a client or a client’s wife? Nothing was ringing a bell for him.
Who the hell was Amy Lee?
Chapter Six
It wasn’t until Amy finished her third slice of pizza and drained the last of her root beer float that she realized she’d been doing all the talking. Hank had only eaten one slice of the delicious pizza, and his root beer float was basically untouched. He also had a strange look on his face. Like he wanted to say something or possibly ask her something and didn’t quite know how to go about it. The words “moody” and “sullen” came to mind. She shook her head to clear her thoughts. She didn’t need this, no way, no how.
Maybe he thought she’d spent too much money at OK Florist. He’d commented on her Range Rover, calling it a pricey set of wheels. Maybe he had a thing about women spending money. He’d been fine before they got to the florist, so whatever was wrong had nothing to do with Mr. Carpenter or the dogs. It had to be her. Something about her was suddenly bothering him. She racked her brain to try to recall what she might have said or done that would make him so quiet all of a sudden.
Well, she certainly wasn’t going to worry about Hank and his moods. She had things to do and places to go. She fished some money out of her pocket and laid it on the table. After all, she’d invited him to lunch, so it was up to her to pay for it.
Amy got up and slipped into her jacket. The waiter approached and asked if she wanted change. She shook her head. “Are you ready, Hank?” she asked coolly.
“What?”
“I asked you if you were ready to leave. We came, we ate, I paid the bill, and now it’s time to leave. Are you ready?”
“Yeah. Sure. My mind is somewhere else. I’m sorry, Mandy.”
“I am, too,” Amy said as she headed for the door. She slammed through the door, not caring that Hank walked right into it as it was closing. She ignored his yelp of surprise and headed straight for the car. Midway to the Rover, a young woman in a Girl Scout uniform rushed up to her. “Would you care to donate to Mr. Carpenter’s funeral expenses?”
“What did you say?” The young girl repeated her question.
“I didn’t know…of course.” Amy emptied out her wallet.
“How about you, sir?”
“I didn’t bring my wallet with me. Tell me where I can drop off my contribution. I’ll do it as soon as I get home.”
“Mrs. Masterson. She lives at 82 Cypress Street. She’s in charge of the fund-raiser.”
“Okay, thanks.” Hank climbed into the Rover and buckled up. Amy peeled away the moment the door was closed securely. She clenched her teeth. If he thought she was going to start babbling, he needed to think again about his rude behavior. Some things were just not meant to be. So much for dreams and long-lost loves.
“The snow is really coming down,” Hank said, in an attempt to make conversation.
The snow wasn’t a question. So she didn’t have to respond.
Hank eyed Amy out of the corner of his eye. He tried again. “That’s pretty sad about Albert Carpenter. I knew he didn’t have any family left, but I would have thought he had some savings, enough to bury him.”
That wasn’t a question either. So she didn’t have to respond to it either. Instead, Amy concentrated on the falling snow and driving on the slick roads.
The rest of the ride home was made in silence on Amy’s part. She swerved into her driveway, turned off the engine, and hopped out of the Rover. “Don’t bother yourself. I can unload the truck later. I have other things I need to do now. Do you want to take the dogs now, or should I keep them?”
Her voice was as cold as the snow falling all about him. Hank did a double take. He knew a brush-off when he got one. He’d had more than enough in his lifetime to know the signals. He took a moment to wonder if Mandy was bipolar. One minute she was on top of the world, and the next she was doom and gloom. She hadn’t said a word on the drive home. “I’ll take them,” he said curtly.
“Fine,” Amy snapped. She opened the door, and both dogs ran to her to be petted. Hank did everything in his power to get Churchill to go with him. He finally had to give up when the big dog bared his teeth. “Guess that’s your answer, Mr. Anders.”
Mr. Anders? “Yeah, guess so.”
Amy moved to the door to close it. Then she added insult to injury, Hank thought, when he heard the deadbolt snick into place. He felt lower than a skunk’s belly when he hightailed it back to his brother’s house.
What the hell is going on?
The house was exceptionally quiet. Instead of calling out, Hank walked out to the kitchen to see Mason puttering around at the stove. “Is there any coffee, Mason? Did anyone call?”
“I