The Mystery in the Cemetery

My sister texted me this afternoon and instructed me to go to the local cemetery at 3:30 and await further instructions.  Whaaaat?  Has she been reading too many Nancy Drew novels?  But - Big Sis said go, so I went.

That's my car, parked at the cemetery gate.  Beautiful day for sitting in a graveyard!

I received further instructions via text:  my contact would arrive in a gold Pontiac within ten minutes.  A clandestine meeting with a stranger in a cemetery?  I questioned if I needed to flash my lights or otherwise signal the mysterious Pontiac, so they would know "it's on".  (Maybe I've seen The Hangover too many times.)  Surely he/she would need a way to identify me among all the other cars parked in the cemetery at 3:30 on a Friday afternoon.  Sis thought a cheerful smile and wave would be the perfect signal.

So I waited . . . I assessed all the entrances and exits, in case I needed to make a quick escape . . . I synchronized my watch with the car clock . . . I checked the reception on my shoe phone (if you are too young to recognized the reference, check NetFlix for Get Smart reruns) . . . I read some headstones . . . until a gold van turned into the drive.  "The Pontiac has landed", I texted Sis.  The van door slid open and out came . . .

. . . an undercover florist! 

Well, maybe not so undercover, since I knew her, but she did step out holding these beautiful roses -- for me!  

So why is the florist delivering my flowers in a cemetery?  Because I live in the boonies.  The florist is located in a town about 10 miles from my house and they don't normally make deliveries to rural addresses.  But, she had promised a distant customer she would deliver a Valentine wreath to their loved-one's grave in the cemetery near my house, so she agreed to deliver my arrangement at the same time.  Only in a small town!

Thank you, Sis, for setting up a little intrigue for your mystery-loving sister and cheering up my afternoon.