Then the date on the receipt flashed through her mind’s eye, and she snatched it back up, reading it in its entirety as indignation caused a flush to heat her neck. It was an eighty-dollar lily bouquet. And it was purchasedyesterdayforsame-daydelivery. No delivery address.
Jesse had already left for another work trip, so she pulled out her phone and dialed his number. She didn’t care about not receiving flowers . . . but if not her, then fucking who?
“Hello?”
“Hey Jesse,” Eliana began, scrambling to word her question in a manner that would get answers without putting him on the defensive. “I just found a receipt for flowers while doing the laundry, and I wanted to make sure it wasn’t supposed to come to me. If it was, I never received them.”
“Oh, shit, I’m sorry, babe,” Jesse said, then paused. The silence stretched between them for several long beats. “Uh, you remember my coworker Amber Wix? From the holidayparty? Her grandfather passed away, and I, uh, was sending those for the funeral.”
“That was very kind of you. I’m sorry to bother.”
“No bother,” Jesse was quick to answer, his tone light.
Eliana ended the call and leaned against the washer, eyes on her phone as she immediately typed in the co-worker’s name on social media. Then her fingers paused, surprised, when an obituary for an older man popped up, only three days old.
She nearly clicked away, her finger hovering over the exit, but then she noticed the post below the obituary was a series of pictures from the funeral that Amber had shared for the extended family.
I shouldn’t,Eliana thought. But then her fingers clicked into the first picture of their own accord, and Eliana was helpless but to flip through them . . . searching. For confirmation, for proof, for what, she wasn’t sure. She told herself that lilies were an incredibly common flower for funerals, and it was unlikely that she’d even spot the ones Jesse had sent. And yet, she continued to look. She began swiping faster, searching each bouquet. Roses and orchids, carnations and hyacinths—until she got to the last image and had yet to see a single lily.
With shaking hands, she googled the flower shop on the receipt and dialed before she could chicken out. The voice of an older gentleman answered, asking how he could help.
“Hi,” she said, working to harden her voice. “Yes, I have an order number for a delivery purchased yesterday, and I just wanted to confirm the address the flowers were sent to.”
“Sure,” the man answered happily, papers shuffling in the background. “I can check that for you. Could you please read me the number?”
“Yes, sir. Nine, four, two, seven, three, six.”
“Let’s see . . . oh, gorgeous bouquet. Excellent choice. That one was delivered to the Busy Bea shop down in Oak Ridge. Yesterday afternoon.”
Eliana’s stomach dropped, and nausea rose as she clutched the phone tighter. “You’re certain?”
“Yes, I was the one to deliver them.” His voice grew hesitant when she didn’t respond, “Ma’am, was there a problem?”
“No! No. No, it’s all good. It’s no problem. It’s okay. All good. Perfect. No worries,” Eliana rambled with a sniffle. Too stunned to even comprehend what she’d just learned.
She stared at the wall as the thoughts hit her one after another, and the puzzle pieces finally came together—how Bea had gone to abee-keeping conferencethe same week of the unexpected hotel charge. The lingering looks Eliana had excused over the years, anytime Jesse would enter a room, writing them off as a trick of the eye. The way Bea would maneuver their conversations back to Eliana’s sex life. Never her own. The way she was alwayssocareful to make sure Jesse would be home when they planned a dinner, but rarely bothered to extend the same courtesy to her own husband.
“Ohh no,” the gentleman groaned with a deep sigh, breaking Eliana’s train of thought. His voice grew muffled, as if he’d laid a hand over the mouthpiece, “Martha! We got another cheat-ee on the line.” Then his voice returned, clear and firm. “Listen, honey, this happens more than you’d think. You are not alone. But you wouldn’t be calling us about this if it were your first sign. Youknowyou deserve better, and I hope?—”
“Ask her if she wants me to put a hex on him,” a woman’s voice called out from the background, rising in volume as if she were moving closer.
“Woman, can you let me get through one speech? Nobody wants you to cast a damn hex,” the man snapped before his voice turned apologetic as he said to me, “I’m so sorry. She’s convinced she’s a witch.”
“Is she?” Eliana asked, fighting the most hysterical urge to laugh despite the way she felt as if her heart were being crushed by a hydraulic machine.
“If you’re asking because you’re rounding them up for another witch trial . . . then absolutely, yes.”
A thump, followed by a groan, came through the speaker, right before an older lady’s voice took over. “Hey there, sweets. Here’s what you’re gonna do. Feel it. Process it. Then handle it. If you need a hex or an ear, I’m just a phone call away. Ask for Martha.”
“Thank you,” Eliana said, suddenly tasting the tears she hadn’t realized were falling.
She ended the call, walking through the house on autopilot, distantly noting the sounds of both girls moving around in their bedrooms. Her pace sped up as she neared the kitchen window that mirrored Bea and Milo’s house.
She wasn’t sure what she expected to find, why she even bothered to look, but the second Bea’s kitchen came into view, she froze, clapping a hand over her mouth to silence her scream of rage at the blatant proof. On the dining room table, in the center of the room, was a massive bouquet of lilies. Bile rose swiftly and fiercely, and she only had seconds to reach the hall bath before her lunch made a reappearance.
When the nausea lessened, Eliana settled back against the wall with a thump, her shaking hands balled into fists and pressed tight to her eyes as she fought to contain the feelings that rose in waves, overpowering all else. She wanted to scream and rage and tear the fucking house apart. She wanted to fight Bea. To destroy Jesse. She wanted alawyer. She wanted to die. She wanted to understand. To know how far they’d gone. How long. She wanted to break shit. She wantedrevenge.
But she took a deep breath because she was home alone with her daughters. They were innocent in all of this, and above all else, she had a responsibility to ensure their safety and their peace. And if those girls were the only lifeline she had to her sanity in that moment, she would take it.
