Seven Minutes to Noon

heels that had come into the store just yesterday. Alice felt a quick bleed of irritation.
    “I hope you paid for those,” she called down the street.
    “What?” Maggie kept her slow pace.
    Alice came down the steps. Maggie stopped three feet in front of her.
    “What is it, Alice?”
    “I’m a little confused.” Alice plucked a dime from her sundress pocket and ran her thumb along its ridge. “I saw Tim walk out of here an hour ago, with a lawyer.”
    “I see.” The sun hit Maggie’s eyes, washing them out. “And if I pay for my shoes, that becomes easier to bear?”
    Alice gathered herself. She couldn’t shrink from this. “Mags, did you tell Tim about Ivy?”
    “Being a girl?”
    Alice nodded.
    The sun shifted, and in the sudden clarity Maggie’s gaze swung from Alice’s face to her own elegant feet. “Wonderful, aren’t they?” She leaned in to kiss Alice’s cheek. “And yes, I paid my full discounted rate, as agreed.” She winked and headed up the stairs.
    “Well?” Alice asked.
    Maggie stopped and twisted to look behind her. Her face became serious. “That’s a long conversation. I’ll be with Ethan the rest of the day. Meet me at the shop in the morning, okay? We’ll talk while we finish up receipts. Did you know Martin’s left us three messages to reschedule quarterly taxes?” She walked through the open doorway and disappeared into the precinct.

Chapter 16
    Walking along Smith Street the next morning, on her way to Blue Shoes, Alice heard her mother’s voice ring through her mind. Flowers, she thought, recalling one of Lizzie’s silly yet forceful statements when Alice had been dumped by her first teenage boyfriend. Lizzie had come home from work with an armload of African daisies, declaring, “Flowers will mend a broken heart.” Alice turned into the spiffy new florist just past Butler Street, smiling as she approached the counter.
    “Good morning!” A man with shoulder-length brown hair tucked behind his ears stepped out from a back room. “What can I do for you?”
    “Peonies,” Alice said, overlooking the stylishly presented offerings of exotic bouquets. “I know they’re out of season, but do you have any?”
    “They’re not out of season in the hothouse.” He led her into a nook toward the back of the store, where a green plastic bucket was crammed with whitish pink peonies in various stages of bloom. “I just got them this morning — haven’t had a chance to separate them yet.”
    “Don’t,” Alice said. Peonies had been Lauren’s favorite flower. “I’ll take them all.”
    Ten minutes later, she left the store, arms loaded with two dozen peonies wrapped in clear cellophane with a sky-blue ribbon tied at the bottom. She had also selected an oversized glass vase and placed a standing weekly order for peonies, which had delighted the man so muchhe gave her the vase for nothing. Alice inhaled the gentle perfume of the flowers as she walked three more blocks to Blue Shoes.
    Maggie was already there, reorganizing piles of receipts along the counter into the same stacks that had been hastily dissembled five days ago, just last Monday, when Lauren’s body was found.
    “Lovely!” Maggie ran over to take the large bag with the vase. She poked her nose into Alice’s armload of peonies. “Ah, yes, I see.”
    “We’ll always have them,” Alice said. “For her.”
    “It’s a perfect idea, Alice.” Maggie looked like she might cry. “You’re the most marvelous friend and I’ve been truly awful.” She collected herself and faced Alice, who felt some kind of betrayal coming and needed to settle in first. She hated having things thrown at her the minute she walked in a door: greetings, news, confessions. She had always felt that if she was prepared, she could handle anything.
    “Help me with these,” Alice said.
    Maggie filled the vase with water in the bathroom at the back of the store, then returned with it, straining under its weight. “Where do you think?”
    “The counter, for now,” Alice said. “Maybe we’ll get a pedestal made at that cast iron place on Bergen Street.”
    Maggie set the vase carefully on the pale green counter. Together, they cut the bottoms of each peony and arranged them in the vase. They were lush and glorious. Their perfume triggered Alice’s queasiness but she didn’t care. She pressed her nose into the soft petals and breathed. She felt a maternal swing toward the burgeoning life in her womb, and sensed her