22

—

For a florist, Valentine’s Day starts at the end of January. Irene was decorating Feeler’s Flowers and Lindsay asked Nicola if she wanted to help. For the next few days Nicola raced home after school to walk June Bug, then raced over to the shop.

The girls came up with good ideas, not just about decorating. One was to sell valentines, too, not just the little cards tucked in bouquets.

“Like, for kids.”

“That’s a great idea,” Irene said. “But it’s a bit late to order them.”

Lindsay took twenty dollars from the cash register. The girls marched next door to the dollar store and bought eighteen boxes of valentines. They used one box for decorating, stringing the valentines in the window with red and pink ribbon. Irene had rolls of every color ribbon in the back room where her workbench was.

“There’s something else I don’t understand about angels,” Nicola told Lindsay as they worked. “They want to help people, right?”

“If you ask for help, it will come,” Lindsay said. “You read that, right? Sometimes you don’t realize you’ve been helped. Like when my mom and dad got divorced. I really wanted them to stay together because my mom was sad. And mad. But we moved and she bought the shop. Now, even though she’s stressed about money, she’s happier than she ever was. So the angels did help us. It just wasn’t what I expected.”

“You asked angels to help you?” Nicola asked.

“Not exactly. I didn’t know I could! But that’s the wonderful thing about them. Hoping for something is the same as asking them for help.”

Nicola was hole-punching the valentines. She brushed the confetti into the greens bin.

“Oh, save that!” Lindsay said. “I can throw it at the next wedding.”

“You’re the craziest friend I’ve ever had,” Nicola said, and Lindsay laughed.

“Okay,” Nicola went on. “Suppose what you say is true. Then why doesn’t Mr. Milton ask the angels for help? They’re all locked in together in Shady Oaks. And why don’t the angels help each other? Or themselves?”

* * *

The next day Lindsay thought of candy.

“Boxes of chocolates,” she told Irene. “It would be convenient if people could get their flowers and chocolates in the same place on Valentine’s Day.”

“And,” Nicola said, “you should offer dog treats!”

She explained how the world was divided. There were places that welcomed dogs, and those that didn’t. Banks, yes. Bookstores, yes. Libraries, no. Grocery stores, no. It made no sense.

“June Bug pulls all the way to the bank because she knows she’ll get a treat there.”

The next day Lindsay brought her 100 gel pens and she and Nicola made a DOGS WELCOME sign for the door of the shop.

Nicola got another idea when she looked into the greens bin. The flowers in the bin were too open to sell, or their leaves were tinged brown, but they were still nice. The girls pulled the petals off and scattered them on the sidewalk outside the shop, a pink and red and yellow carpet advertising what was inside.

Looking at them reminded Nicola of her first visit to Our Lady of Perpetual Help. How, tripping up the aisle to confess for June Bug, she had followed a flower petal trail. She’d assumed they’d fallen off the bride’s bouquet.

All week they checked their email — Nicola in the morning before Jared got up, then later, with Lindsay, on the computer in the shop.

No reply came to their two-exclamation-point, High Priority letter.

On Friday, when they went back to Shady Oaks, Glenda was at the nursing station. She looked crosser than ever, like her ponytail was pulled too tight. She pointed silently to the unsilent lounge where the Shopping Channel was advertising Thermadore Thumbless Texting Mittens at full volume.

“Is Mr. Milton in his room?” the girls asked.

Glenda’s face closed up. On the counter behind her was a box of tissues. She plucked one out, then stood for a minute with her back turned.

Crying?

She pulled herself together and turned around. “He’s gone.”

“Really?” Nicola grinned. “Someone from the Patient Quality Care Office came?”

“The ambulance,” Glenda answered. “Two nights ago. It was too late.”