“Are those for me?” says Leanne, offput.

“Well, yeah,” says Pedro. He tries to smooth the daffodils. “It was a long flight,” he explains.

Leanne frowns. “Fine,” she says, and sharply fills a glass with water. She extends it; Pedro dunks them. “Thanks, I guess,” she says.

“You’re welcome.”

“Did you bring any for the actual funeral?”

He shrugs.

“I’ll drive,” she says.

Later, at Moody & Sons, Leanne softens a bit. “She always liked you,” she tells him, taking a break from the receiving line to pick ham off the deli plate.

Pedro nods, trying not to study her naked fingers.