Page 126 of Boys Who Hunt
“Hi! Can I help you?”
“Um … yeah, I’m looking for a bouquet. A big one.”
“Of course.” The beaming smile on her face is infectious. “What’s the occasion?”
Here comes the blush again. “An apology.”
Her eyes glisten. “Wait, you’re Milo’s kid.”
“Yeah.” I scratch the back of my head. “I’m Heath’s … friend.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful! I’m so glad he finally made some more friends. Other than Silas and Mavis.” She laughs as she grabs a few flowers and pushes them into a bundle in her hand. “Let me make you a custom one.”
“Thanks,” I say. “So has Heath never mentioned me at all?”
She shrugs. “Maybe? He doesn’t talk a lot about any of his college friends, actually. I only know about Silas and Mavis through Penelope.” She makes a beautiful bouquet filled with roses and blue hydrangeas. “Not since his sister left, anyway …” She sighs.
“Well, in any case, could you give him a message for me?”
“Um, sure,” I reply.
He’s their kid. I don’t understand why she can’t do it herself, but I’ll listen.
“Tell him his dad and I still want a chat. Please have him call me,” she says.
I nod as she hands me the bouquet. “Sure. Thank you.” And I swipe my card.
“I’m sure she’ll accept your apology.” She winks.
It takesme at least three tries to gather the courage to actually knock on her door. I swallow and hold my head high as I prop up the bouquet with a smile so wide it might break my face.
But the door never opens, and Ivy never appears.
Weird.
I knock again and hold my breath, hoping she just didn’t hear.
But the third knock is when a door behind me opens.
“She’s not home.”
“What?” I mutter.
Behind me, a granny with flipflops and her gray hair in a perm blows out some smoke from a cigarette between her fingers. “You’re looking for Ivy, right?”
“Yeah.”
Who is this woman?
“I’m the babysitter,” she says, coughing like she’s trying to hack up her lungs through her mouth. “You look like you’ve got some extra money on hand, judging by that giant bouquet.”
I frown. “This is for her.”
“I don’t want your flowers, silly little boy.” She takes another whiff of her cigarette. “Gimme a hundred and I’ll tell you where she went.”
“Why would you—”
“You look like someone she trusts.” She eyes me up and down and I feel weirdly violated.