Chapter 9
“So, will you be doing anything special for your birthday, dear?” inquired Miss Tibbs, gently fingering the petal of an orange bloom Scott didn’t know the name of. Another day gone by, his route over, and he had parked his butt on a bench amongst the sweet woman’s garden, invited, of course.
Mainly to lament at missing Dakota much earlier that morning. Florence Blackwood, Ren to everyone who knew her, had been manning the counter, and when he asked after Dakota, he was dismayed to learn the object of his affection had driven out of town for the day. Something about a specialty shop and wedding cake. Missing out on that early morning visit did a number on his mood, dampening his spirits for the day. Even finding out the Jacobson’s dog finally delivered twelve healthy puppies, al
