There were fresh flowers lying in a tool box in the garage. A note was attached to it. “Happy Mother’s Day,” it said, gold letters embossed on cream eggshell. There was even a pink bow tying the stems together.
They got delivered late due to a scheduling mishap. Rachel was on her way back already from her mother’s wake. They belonged in the trash but pickup wasn’t until next Wednesday, and Denise didn’t want Rachel to see them, even wilting in the bin. So out with the screwdrivers they sat, until she could drive out – alone – and dispose of them.