“So, that’s his handwriting, isn’t it?”
I examine it carefully. His handwriting was the first thing I noticed when I pulled the card out of the envelope. “I guess it’s possible that he called it in and the florist happened to have the same handwriting as him.”
Even as I say it, I know it’s not likely. I remember the letter he sent yesterday, which I received the same day. I don’t want to tell Anne about it, because then she’ll want to know what the letter said. It probably doesn’t matter. I can tell by the look on her face that she can see right through me.
“What do you know that I don’t?” she asks. “Did he send you another letter?”
It’s annoying how hard it is to keep a secret from her. “I don’t think he’s in San Diego.”
“You think he’s in Miami?”
“I don’t know. He sent a letter yesterday. There’s no way it came all the way from San Diego in a day. He mentioned my floating head. He couldn’t have known ahead of time that I was going to do that.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t say anything earlier. When were you going to tell me about that?”
“I’m telling you now.”
She narrows her eyes, her lips curling up in a suspicious smile. “What are you hiding?”
“Nothing!” My face heats. I take a drink of water, hoping it will dissolve my blush.
“He sent you flowers. That’s something.”
“He only sent them as part of a joke. Didn’t you read the note?”
She touches one of the petals. “This is a beautiful arrangement. It couldn’t have been cheap. That’s kind of an expensive joke, don’t you think?”
“It would be just like him to go all in on a joke like that.”
Even as the words come out of my mouth, I’m not sure I believe them. I picture Luca walking into a florist and picking out a bouquet for me. I wonder if he chose the first one he saw, or if he put some thought into it. As much as I want to deny it, I wonder if Anne is right. I worry that Luca might be after more than just writing letters.
“Did you keep the envelope he sent the letter in?” Anne asks. “Maybe the postmark will show where it was mailed from.”
“I don’t keep the envelopes. I threw it away, and then I took out the trash. I’m not about to go dumpster diving to find it.”
Anne sighs heavily like I’m inconveniencing her. “Hang onto the next one. Maybe if we find out where they’re coming from, we won’t have to go back to San Diego this weekend.”
“Good, because all these trips are starting to take a toll on my bank account. That, and Jake wants me to himself this weekend.”
“I bet he does.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “Want to get lunch?”
* * *
Joel is at the security desk when I come in after lunch. He smiles as I walk through the door. “Good afternoon, Naomi.”
I’m surprised by the friendly greeting. I feel like the last few times I’ve seen him he’s been cold to me.
“Hey Joel. How are you?”
“Just wonderful.” He nods toward the mailboxes, where the mail carrier is filling them up. “You got here just in time. Lots of mail coming in today.”
“Perfect.”
I open my mailbox and pull out a short stack of mail. I flip through it: bills, junk mail and more bills. I feel a leap of excitement when I get to the bottom of the stack and see my name and address written in that familiar handwriting. Then I remember what Anne said. I turn to the mail carrier, who is just finishing up, and show him the newest envelope from Luca.
“Can you tell me where this letter would have been mailed from?”
He leans in to look at the envelope, frowns, then snatches it from my hand. He turns it over, shrugs, then hands it back to me. “Didn’t come through the post office,” he says. “No postmark. There isn’t even a stamp.”
