10. Chapter 10

As I drive to the shop, I glance down the alley to see if Cassie's souped-up Dodge Charger is there. When I see it, I get a rush of adrenaline. I'd like to go for a ride in that car. What I can't figure out is if the adrenaline rush is about the car or Cassie.

I don't see Georgia's truck, which is disappointing. Even though I'm not happy she's taking Cassie's side on the shop, I still hope she might be here. She'll make things easier. If I can't get the words out, Georgia can interpret what I want to say.

When I pull around front into the parking lot, Georgia's truck isn't there either. But the florist next door to the shop is still open, which gives me an idea. An offering might help my apology. Maybe I'll have to say less.

Marcie is getting ready to lock up when I walk into Petals in Paradise. The whole place is decked out in red hearts and cupids shooting arrows, and it takes a few seconds before I remember what day it is.

I glance back at the front door and see I walked through it without noticing the giant Get Your Valentine's Bouquets Here poster in the window.

"What can I get for you, Bear?" Marcie asks with a tired smile that says she's ready to go home. It's way past closing time. "Have you got a special someone?"

"Nooo. No. NO." I shake my head hard while scanning the entire store for anything that says I'm sorry.

There's nothing that doesn't scream I love you.

"Something for your mom or Britta then?"

I go still, then nod. Because of course I should get something for my mom, even if she might not know who I am or why I'm giving her flowers. And Britta needs to know I love her. I don't say it often enough.

"Yeah. Something not so romantic for both of them." I pause. "And another that says I'm sorry."

"Let me see what I can do." Marcie disappears into the back room while I try not to touch anything in the tight space. "Bear in a china shop" is a common phrase used when I'm around and I work very hard not to prove it.

Flowers in vases or some kind of breakable knick-knack cover every flat surface. Helium balloons crowd the ceiling, their strings dangling in front of me. I can barely turn without getting tangled in one. Finally, I can't take it anymore.

"I'm just gonna wait outside," I call to Marcie, then walk out the door.

I only make it a few steps when I hear a meow. A couple of cats walk around the corner of Grandpa's shop, heading toward the back. Not just walk, jog. Or whatever cats do when they're in a hurry.

Weird.

Of course, there are stray cats around Paradise, just not many around this area. They stick to houses and farms further outside of town where the prey is plentiful and people leave barn or garage doors cracked open for the cats to sleep, as thanks for keeping the rodent population in check.

Not at my house, though. Zach and I are both super allergic, so Mom's always shooed the cats away. Even now, that's something she remembers: she hates cats.

If there are more cats wandering around, I'm safer inside. If some cat gets close, my eyes will water like crazy. And if I touch one, I'll be worse off.

When I go back inside, Marcie has the flowers ready and waiting next to the cash register. They all look pretty fancy, which is fine for Mom and Britta. Not so fine for Cassie.

"I hope these are okay. I know roses are more romantic than carnations, but that's what I have left. Plenty of roses, no carnations. People cheaped out this year." She looks pointedly at me as the total pops up on her iPad register. "So sweet to remember your mom and Britta on Valentine's Day."

I tap my card on the machine, add a generous tip, and swallow the sting of paying as much as I am for flowers that will cost half as much tomorrow. Then Marcie gently guides me to the door without asking how Mom is.

I don't need a flashing sign to tell me she's ready to go home. So, even though the pink bear on the smaller vase of flowers seems heavy on the romance side, I keep my mouth shut. The bear has a t-shirt on it that says I'm sorry, so maybe it will be okay for Cassie?

I carry them all to my truck where I leave the bouquets for Britta and Mom. The last one I carry toward the back of the shop. When I round the corner, the two cats I saw before are outside the shop door, lapping up milk from a paper bowl.

Cassie probably left it outside. She may not know that cats are genetically lactose intolerant, but I hope she's smart enough not to let stray cats inside. It's likely my fault the cats are here at all. The abundance of mice I trapped probably attracted them and let go in the fields before Cliff shows up to do his dirty work.

The cats dash away when I get close, but my eyes water just looking at them. The wind is blowing, and their dander is probably in the air. But I'll be fine. It's not as if they're inside or that I have to touch them.

That's when I notice the shop door is open a crack, and there's a loud, steady mewing coming from inside that can't be from one cat.

I sneeze, push the door open wide, and come face-to-face with my biggest nightmare.