Chapter 5
“Why do you look so troubled today, dear?”
Scott looked around, his eyes settling on Miss Tibbs, a sweet grandmotherly woman in her early seventies and left widowed by a car accident that took her husband a few years ago. She lived in a quaint cottage with a white picket fence and a garden that deserved a magazine spread. As usual, she sported a straw sun hat and gardening gloves with cartoon ladybugs all over them. Aside from growing the prettiest flowers, Miss Beth Tibbs also made lemonade worth dying for.
“You’ve been staring at my mailbox a good ten minutes now.” She laid aside her trowel and removed her gloves, walking over to him. “It looks exactly like it did when I dropped a card in it this morning, so tell me, what’s on your mind?”
Much like Dakota started his route,
