Chapter 19: The Unwanted Favor

The message arrived while Lillian was trimming stems.

It was late afternoon, the quiet hour between lunch traffic and the evening rush. Sunlight filtered through the front windows of Bloom House Floral at an angle that softened the room without warming it. The bell above the door had not rung in nearly an hour.

She wiped her hands on her apron before checking her phone.

Catherine:

She called me again.

Lillian did not need to ask who.

She moved toward the counter, leaning her weight against the wood as she typed.

Lillian:

What did she say.

The response came slower this time.

Catherine:

That I need to remember where I belong.

Lillian closed her eyes briefly.

That phrase was Margaret Hawthorne’s favorite. Polite. Bloodless. Impossible to argue without sounding ungrateful.

Catherine:

She wants me at the gala. With Henry. She said it would be good for him to be seen.

Lillian pictured her nephew standing stiffly beside adults who would speak over his head, using his presence as proof of fam