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| 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!
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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.
