Adeline hummed to herself as she got up to her feet, putting the roses she had cut from the bush in the small basket she had brought for the occasion. Her mother had loved tending to the garden herself when she could, and had often brought Adeline along to keep her company. Adeline didn’t particularly like touching the thorny bushes or the way her hands sweated in the thick gloves she used to avoid scratching herself.
But after her mother’s death, this pastime had grown on her. It was almost like her mother was there, humming to herself the same tune Adeline was humming now, or telling her about the growth process of the roses or complaining about the sun shining too strongly on her poor plants.
Adeline heard quiet steps down the path, but didn’t bother turning. She had sent Millie to g
