Grinning, Cassie tossed her the nozzle then manned the faucet. “Just say the word.”
As Olivia wielded her weapon of choice, Reed stood and raised both hands, chuckling as he said, “Okay, I surrender.”
“Good.” Beaming triumphantly, Olivia dropped the hose. “You showed up just in time, Cass.”
“Happy I could help. And I actually have a favor to ask in return.”
“Does this favor include me?” Reed asked, brushing the dirt from his torso. “If not, I’ll go grab a clean T-shirt.”
“It may, but I’ll give Olivia a crack at it first. Feel free to change.”
“Thanks.” As he passed them on the way to his vintage VW van, he gave Olivia a quick kiss.
Cassie couldn’t help noticing the way her friend’s fair complexion flushed with happiness, accentuating her faint smattering of freckles. Or the way her gaze followed Reed to his van, never wavering until he disappeared down the gravel drive.
Cassie looped her arm through Olivia’s. “You two are the cutest couple. I can’t wait for your wedding.”
“Me, either.” While her words matched the sentiment, her wistful, somber tone gave Cassie pause.
“Is there something wrong with the wedding?” Cassie found it hard to imagine. As an event coordinator—who ran a successful business in New York for several years before moving back to Poppy Creek last spring—Olivia had planned more weddings than flowers filled the field. Surely whatever hiccup she’d encountered wouldn’t be too much of a hurdle. At least, not enough for serious concern.
“Not wrong, per se. But something about it doesn’t feel quite right.”
“What do you mean?”
“To be honest, I don’t know.” Olivia twisted her bare foot into the ground, her expression pensive. “I thought I knew exactly what I wanted. After all, I’d planned the wedding of my dreams when I married Steven, then had to change every single detail to fit his idea of the perfect calling card for our event-planning business. Suddenly, our wedding went from elegant and timeless to showy and over-the-top. When Reed and I got engaged, all my old, original ideas came rushing back, but now I’m not sure if it feels likeus.” She breathed a heavy sigh. “I don’t know, Cass. The wedding will be beautiful, there’s no doubt about that. Maybe I’m overthinking it?”
“Maybe. But it’s also okay to change your mind.”
“You’re right and ever the voice of reason, per usual.” Olivia smiled. “I’ll give it some more thought. Now, what’s this favor you mentioned?”
Cassie briefly explained the situation then recited the riddle, which she’d committed to memory. “‘Roses are red, violets are blue. And sometimes it’s nice to mix the two.’”
“How curious. It’s not much information, is it?”
“No, it’s not. But since it mentions violets and roses, I thought you or Reed might have a few ideas.”
“You know what it makes me think of…” Olivia trailed off and shook her head. “No, that would be impossible.”
“What? Believe me. Nothing you can think of will be any more impossible than what Edwin’s already pulled off.”
“Do you remember the hybrid rose Reed created? The one that won the competition at the Primrose Valley festival?”
“I do.” Cassie smiled. The petals were the same color as Olivia’s eyes—an exquisite and unusual shade of violet. As the connection hit, she asked, “Did Reed ever make more than one?”
“No. And it was featured in a few magazines and online publications, so it’s possible someone like Edwin would know about it.”
“Where is it?”
“In the greenhouse.”
As Cassie followed her inside, her heartbeat quickened. If they got this right, they would solve two more clues in less than twenty-four hours, which would leave only one left. At this rate, they had a decent shot of finding the diary before the festival. She couldn’t wait to tell the planning committee during their meeting in a few hours.
Olivia wove through the rows of seedlings and potting stations, stopping at a cozy seating area in back. A small patio set sat tucked into an alcove bathed in sunlight. On an antique marble table in the center, a single rosebush served as a focal point. Although she’d seen it before, Cassie froze, mesmerized by the extraordinary pigment of each petal. “I always forget how striking the color is.”
“It is beautiful, isn’t it?” Olivia flushed again. Her friend must feel so loved each time she laid eyes on it—a one-of-a-kind rose created just for her. “But I don’t know where someone would hide a diary or another clue.”
Cassie came closer, studying the cupped blooms from every angle. Olivia had a point. “What about in the pot? Or the dirt?”
