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Page 92 of The Perfect Deception

Dina shud­dered. “No thanks, I’ll leave it to you. And I’ll pick a movie tonight and let you know.”

As they sat down to eat, Dina’s phone buzzed again, and she shut it off.

“You’re sure?” Tracy said, eye­ing the phone.

“He’ll get bored. It’ll pass.”

“Okay. In the mean­time, I should prob­a­bly plan on only us­ing your home phone to reach you, huh?”

Dina laughed. “For the time be­ing.”

The next morn­ing, a pot of basil, tied with a yel­low rib­bon, ar­rived for Dina at the li­brary. She frowned as she pulled the card from the en­ve­lope.

“If it be a sin to covet honor, I am the most of­fend­ing soul.”—Adam

“Mmm, that smells so good,” Tracy said as she walked by. “Where’d you get it?”

“Adam.”

“He sent you basil?” She started to laugh. “So he went from stalk­ing your apart­ment, to tex­ting non-stop, to send­ing you an herb?”

Dina started to gig­gle. “It’s so strange.”

“There has to be a rea­son. Let me think about this one.”

“Trace, there’s a card, too.”

Tracy’s mouth dropped when she read the card. “Did you know he was this odd when you were dat­ing him?”

Dina blinked. “No.”

“Don’t cry, sweetie. Let’s en­joy the game.” Tracy picked up the pot and brought it to her desk.

With­out the over­pow­er­ing scent of basil, Dina was able to breathe again and af­ter a few at­tempts, she fo­cused her thoughts on or­ga­niz­ing the chil­dren’s pro­grams for May. Just when her stom­ach started to rum­ble, Tracy re­turned with the pot.

“I fig­ured it out. He’s ac­tu­ally pretty clever, you know.”

“Do I want to know?”

Tracy put her hand on her shoul­der. “It’s up to you.”

Dina sighed. “Fine, tell me. Why is he send­ing me herbs?”

“Not ‘herbs,’ a spe­cific herb. Flow­ers and herbs and trees all have spe­cific mean­ings. Basil means ‘good wishes.’ Col­ors do too, and yel­low is for apolo­gies. The Shake­speare quote is also an apol­ogy.”

“Yeah, I got that part.”

“He put a lot of ef­fort into this one.”

“Still doesn’t change my mind.” Dina rubbed the yel­low rib­bon be­tween her fin­gers.

“I never said it should. Do you want this or do you want me to keep it?”

“You keep it.” Mem­ory of all the gold flow­ers he’d sent her for her re­union flashed through her mind and she shiv­ered. It had been thought­ful, but over the top. And think­ing of them made her re­mem­ber the dis­as­ter of the re­union.

“Want to grab lunch?” Tracy asked.

“No thanks, I brought my own to­day. Be­sides, I haven’t been fo­cus­ing on work very well and I need to get stuff done. These piles aren’t go­ing away nearly as fast as I’d like.”




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