amp; Pine Floral, this is Mara.” Holding the card, I said, “I think you’ve delivered flowers to the wrong address.” She apologized and asked, “Oh, I’m sorry about that. Can I get the order name?” I gave her the name: “Daniel Mercer.” She tapped at her keyboard. “One moment.” More typing followed, then a pause. “Yes,” she said. “I see the order.” I asked, “Was it supposed to come to this address?” The pause that followed was unmistakable. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I can’t disclose customer information beyond confirming the order.”
My husband sent another woman a huge bouquet of white roses and pink peonies with a card signed “Love, Daniel,” and by one careless mistake, those flowers arrived at our house instead.
