“Soon,” she said. “What’s on your agenda today? More baking? Gardening? Journaling?”
“I don’t know. The bunny has babies, so I’m mostly raising the produce to support its family now.”
Cecily snorted.
“I’ve started pressing flowers, though, and that’s kind of nice.”
Cecily was silent, probably waiting for me to crack.
“Okay, it’s a little boring, but it’s pretty.”
“That sounds more realistic. How’s the baking?”
“I don’t hate it, but I’m not a huge fan. I’d rather be anywhere than trapped in the kitchen.”
“Hard to bake from somewhere else,” she said.
Accurate. Not to mention I’d accumulated a stockpile of muffins and breads. Probably enough to survive an apocalypse.
A small hatchback turned down the lane, and I watched as it rolled to a stop in front of me.
“Someone’s here,” I said, pushing onto my feet and wiping the hollows beneath my eyes.
A girl with black hair and goth makeup rose from the driver’s seat. “Emma Rini?”
“Yeah.”
“Who is it?” Cecily asked.
“Not sure.”
The woman fished in her back seat and came up with a bundle of flowers wrapped in familiar paper. “For you.” She passed the bouquet to me, then returned to her ride and reversed away.
“Emma,” Cecily said. “What’s going on? I knew we should’ve done a video chat.”
“Flowers,” I said, admiring the white peonies and purple hyacinths. “They’re just like the ones I got before, but this bunch is way bigger.” I peered into the paper, searching through the stems and buds for a card.
“Still no idea who they’re from?”
My fingers connected with the corner of a small card-stock rectangle, and I pulled it into view. “This one has a card.”
“Oh, tell me, tell me, tell me,” she sang. “Are they from Davis? Apology flowers? Maybe from the guy who writes you all those letters? Paul?”
Or Michael,I thought. I needed to fill her in on that revelation too. I’d written it in the letter, but she was right—talking was faster.
“What does the card say?”
I stared at the inky curves. “It’s just a heart.”
“Is that romantic or creepy?” she asked. “I’m confused by your dual timeline. In the twenty-first century, I’m leaning toward creepy. In the late eighteen hundreds, I’m guessing sweet?”
“You and my family are the only ones who know what I’m doing here,” I said. “So, if it’s from one of them, definitely sweet.” Though Davis had seen my original list of goals. Becoming Emily had been one of those. Could he have sent me flowers?
I wrapped up the chat with Cecily, eager to ask my parents if the flowers were from them. But first I texted Annie.
I sent a set of quick messages letting her know I loved her and looked forward to becoming an aunt. I probably didn’t tell her either thing often enough, and that was on me. I also let her know she could visit me in Amherst anytime, if she wanted to get away before the baby arrived. The invitation was a long shot, but also an olive branch. I hoped she’d take it. I didn’t bother asking if she’d sent the flowers. She was still unhappy with me when I’d left.
A call to my parents quickly confirmed they hadn’t sent the bouquets.
