"Thank you for the flowers. They look gorgeous. I'm sure you can tell, but we like hydrangeas here." Mrs. Proctor gestured to her little pocket square that upon closer inspection was pressed pink hydrangeas. Maxwell nodded, his smile softening. Andrew wondered how old those flowers were, and had a feeling he knew the answer already.
"Yes. Andrew got the same flowers for my Mother, so it only seemed fitting." Mrs. Proctor whipped her head in Andrew's direction, who for some reason, felt like he had to look away before she laughed some more.
"Ah. Quietly sneaky, I see. Just like your Mother." Andrew felt his cheeks flush in happiness and embarrassment. Not many said he was like his Mother, and it made his stomach and heart warm to hear it. Maxwell's expression grew confused as she accepted the flowers from him.
