A bell jingled above the door frame as I stepped inside.

Ruth stood behind the glass counter, wrapping blue tissue paper around a bunch of yellow carnations.

She didn’t drop her scissors when she saw me.

She laid them down on the wood, smoothed her linen apron with both palms, and looked me square in the eye.

“Bob isn’t here,” Ruth said.

“He left for the hardware store in Oakridge an hour ago.”

“I didn’t come here looking for Bob,” I said.