Plimpton had been under a snowstorm warning. Between Stone’s short travels from The Basket Grocery Store to his next stop, Finnegan’s Floral, the falling snow had thickened. Whirlwinds of the whiteness made it difficult to see just five feet in front of him. Some would have called the current state of the weather a whiteout, but Stone didn’t want to jump to that extreme thinking, telling himself that the snow falling from the white-blue heavens was temporary and nothing that would prevent him from carrying out his day’s errands prior to the book club function.
Finnegan’s Floral sat on the other end of Plimpton, next to Turn the Page Books. Stone could kill two birds with one stone, pun intended. He could pick up Lance’s early birthday lilies and a stack of barely used and inexpensive Robe
