“Can you handle the showcase alone?”
“Alone!”
“It’s the same day as Angelica’s surgery.”
“And?”
“And she needs help.”
“She’s married. Her husband will help. That’s a weekend. He won’t have to work.”
“Brady wouldn’t know the first thing about how to care for her post-operation.”
“And you would? You’re not a nurse, Danica.”
“No, but I play one on TV.” She didn’t take my joke well. “Fine, but I was in the hospital recently receiving care.” Not that I could remember a single day of that. “And I’ve got an instinct for how to help people.”
“You can help them most by letting Brady rise to the occasion.”
Humph. Everyone was ganging up on me. “I’m going.”
Tennille’s face filled with thunder. “I’ll handle the showcase.” She marched off.
I was left with the giant vase of flowers.
Tennille had been right—they had to be a gift from Jeremy Hotston. That had probably been Jeremy lurking behind the gymnastics building. I could call the police on him, but for one thing, Jeremy had kept a respectful distance. For another, the police might request the flowers as evidence.
They were too gorgeous to be placed in an evidence room.
I leaned in and inhaled their fragrance. Mmm. So nice. I did love late-summer flowers. The bouquet had multiple flowers, and I had to look some up. There were coneflowers, asters, mums, Russian sage, cimicifuga, sedum, rudbeckia, and phlox. Jeremy—for all his glaringly obvious faults—did have great taste in flowers.