The store was always closed on Sundays.

Kristoff usually utilized his day off to attend church with his family and relax at home. But without Sven, the house had a solemn air that hung about it, causing Kristoff to want to be anywhere but there. Plus, he couldn't stop thinking of Anna.

It had been nearly two weeks already since he had met her in the garden. He thought of her often in his waking moments, and wondered if she was thinking of him, too. His mother had retired to her chamber shortly after arriving home from Mass for a nap, and so Kristoff stole his chance to go see Anna.

Tucking the heavy parcel he had purchased under his arm, Kristoff marched up the hill to the manor, climbing the steps to the front door and pausing only a moment to steady his breathing before he beat his knuckles against the old wood.

Minutes passed and the door remained closed. Only the wind answered Kristoff as it whistled through the shady alcove of the porch, ruffling his coat.

Trying again, Kristoff knocked once more, louder this time. Still, nobody came to greet him.

When he raised his fist to knock a third, he was stopped by the sound of a bolt turning in a lock. There was a click, and then the door creaked open halfway, slowly, until a familiar freckled face poked out to see who was at the door.

Anna's blue eyes washed over him, trailing upward from his polished shoes to the ascot tie around his neck, landing finally on his face.

"It's you," she breathed upon recognizing him. They locked eyes for a moment, before she blushed and averted her gaze, awkwardly tucking a stray lock of reddish hair behind her ear. She was dressed in a day gown of sage green, with brass buttons up the front, and Kristoff couldn't help but notice that it was less form-fitting than was the style of the time.

"Kristoff," he reminded her politely, removing his hat with a hand and placing it to his breast as he bowed slightly to show his respect. He was caught off-guard seeing Anna herself answer the door, rather than a valet or house servant; a manor as opulent as Arendelle, even in its heavy state of disrepair, would easily be large enough to host a full staff.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, although it wasn't proper. "We– I haven't ordered anything. You shouldn't be here."

Kristoff could barely restrain the joy he felt at being in Anna's presence once again. He felt a warming, beginning in his ribcage, that rippled outward to the tips of his limbs. His face felt hot and he was sure that he was blushing. He supposed that it wasn't proper to have come calling on Sunday to see her without a chaperone, either, but he couldn't find himself regretting the choice to do so.

"I just– I wanted to bring you this."

He held up the wrapped package for her to inspect. She looked at it, then to him, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

"What is it?"

"A gift." Kristoff said with a smile. "For you."

"A gift?" Anna let out a breath like a laugh as she reached her hands hesitantly towards the parcel. The ghost of a smile teased at the corners of her mouth and her blue eyes went soft. "I haven't received a gift since… well, since I was a girl, I suppose."

Kristoff held the package aloft as Anna pulled the twine loose and carefully tore at the paper, peeling away the layers to reveal what was hidden inside. When the last of the wrapping fell away, she gasped.

"Flower seeds?" She ran her fingertips over the tiny paper packet, printed with the words "OAKEN & FAMILY STANDARD SEED SUPPLY" and a colorful watercolor illustration of a floral arrangement on the front.

"And fertilizer," Kristoff clarified, nudging his chin towards the burlap sack upon which the seed packet sat; he had saved his own pennies to be able to purchase only the best for her. "So that you can begin to regrow those flowers that you were painting in the garden. You'll no longer need to paint them from memory. Not anymore."

At his words, Anna's expression seemed to sink, darkening until she began to shake her head anxiously, jerking her hands away from the items in Kristoff's arms as though they were on fire.

"No," she whispered.

Kristoff felt his own face fall in turn. "No?"

"No, I cannot," she murmured, not looking at him. "I cannot accept this. It's very sweet, but– I'm sorry."

"I'll help you plant them," Kristoff insisted, taking a step forward. Anna leapt back.

"I can't. If she sees them and finds out that I–"

"If who finds out?" Kristoff's interest was piqued. He hurriedly set the package in his arms down and to the side of the porch to free his hands. "Do you have a sister? Does she live here with you?"

He reached towards her, feeling the need to comfort her, but Anna shirked from his touch.

"Please," she begged, fear creeping into her voice, taking another step away from him and into the house. "You must go."

"So, you don't live here alone?" Kristoff pressed. "Your sister, she's the one who writes the notes every week?"

At the last word, Anna's head snapped up, as though remembering something important. Fumbling quickly, she reached into her sleeve and pulled out a slip of parchment.

"Here." She pressed the folded paper against his open palm. Briefly, her slender fingers brushed his wrist and Kristoff inadvertently shivered at the sensation. Her touch was soft and delicate, like a butterfly's kiss. "But you must go, Kristoff. Believe me."

Before he could ask her what she had handed him, Anna shut the door and was gone. Heart sinking into the pit of his stomach, Kristoff mumbled a curse; as much as he had wanted to see Anna again, the last thing he had wanted was to cause her distress. But something was not right about her situation, and it only caused him to want to see her more, to find out why she lived in such fear of things as normal as having visitors and going outside.

Remembering the parchment in his hand, he unfolded it and looked it over; it was the same note he had left during his previous delivery. Anna had kept it.

Upon turning it over, however, Kristoff could see the words "Thank You" scribbled on the back in neat, flowery cursive, as though she had meant to give the note back to him all along.

But what struck him was that the penmanship on the paper before was vastly different than those of the notes left by "E," giving him solid proof that Anna and "E" couldn't possibly be the same person.