He uncapped a black pen and quickly signed his name on the bottom line.

“Don’t you need my signature on that form too?” I asked.

“The florist told me one name is fine since I dropped off the original deposit,” Seth said, sliding the pen back into his pocket.

“I’ll drop it in the mail slot downtown before lunch.”

He tucked the signed form into his coat pocket next to his checkbook.

“Are we still meeting Heather for lunch at High Street Bistro?” he asked.

“I’m meeting Heather alone,” I said.