The Flower Girl Who Knew His Dead Wife

CHAPTER 1 - THE PHOTOGRAPH

"Sir, would you like to buy a flower?"

Daniel Reeves looked up from his untouched plate and saw a little girl standing beside his table, clutching a bundle of daisies and roses against a faded blue cardigan. She couldn't have been older than seven.

Her voice was polite. Careful.

The kind of careful children learned too early.

He managed a tired smile. "Sure, I'll take one."

He reached for his wallet.

As he pulled out a bill, something slipped free and fluttered to the floor.

The girl bent first. She picked up the photograph and stared at it with a puzzled little crease between her brows.

It was old. Yellowed at the corners. A picture of a young woman on a windy beach, laughing over her shoulder, her dark hair blown across her cheek.

Daniel knew that face better than his own.

The girl's eyes lifted slowly.

"Mister, why do you have a picture of my mommy?"

His hand froze in midair.

"What did you say?"

"My mommy."

Daniel pushed back his chair so fast it scraped hard against the floor. He crouched in front of her, suddenly unable to feel his hands. The bill and wallet dropped from his fingers.

"That's my wife," he said, his voice breaking around the words. "She died years ago."

The little girl hugged the flowers tighter and met his gaze without flinching.

"No, my mom is alive."

For a second, Daniel forgot where he was.

Then a waitress rushed over, eyes wide. "Lila? What are you doing over here? Your grandmother said you were only selling near the front."

Daniel turned sharply.

"Take me to your mother," he said.

And from the doorway, an older woman carrying an empty flower bucket stopped cold, stared at the photograph in Lila's hand, and whispered, "Dear God. Not you."