* * * *
Wills must have taken care of the clothes before he’d left for work. His suit was set aside to go to the cleaners, his suitcase had been emptied, and the shirt he’d torn off himself was in the trash. Who’d have thought he could inflict that much damage on an article of clothing?
With one less thing to do, I’d gotten my shopping done, and now the radio played softly in the kitchen. I had preheated the oven and was just putting the game hens into it when the buzzer for the downstairs door sounded, and I jumped and nearly spilled the hens onto the floor.
“Phew!” I caught the pan in the nick of time and slid it onto the rack. Then I closed the door, wiped off my hands, and went to the foyer to thumb the intercom. “Yes?”
“Uh…I have a delivery.” The voice was male.
“For?”
“Um…No name. I was just given this address. I’m from Carnations and Roses and Orchids, Oh My.”
“Flowers? They’re probably for the ladies downstairs.”
“No. It says three on the delivery slip.”
“Oh. Okay, hold on a second. I’ll be right down.” I wasn’t about to let a stranger into the house. “You wait here, puss.” I didn’t want to take a chance on Miss Su running out onto the street, so I closed her in the apartment.
There was a world of disgruntlement in her, “Mrrow,” which I could hear through the door, and I laughed and jogged down to the first floor.
I checked before opening the door. It wasn’t just Vince having lived in the house that had rubbed off, or Wills always being super cautious. It simply paid to be careful.
The deliveryman’s image was distorted, but he was young, probably a high school senior or college freshman, and he held a long, narrow box, the florist’s logo in elegant calligraphy across it.
Curious, I unlocked the door and opened it. “You’ve got a delivery for me?”
“It’s for the person who lives in the apartment on three.”
“That’s me.”
“Uh…” His smile seemed a little nervous, and he thrust a clipboard toward me. “Would you sign here, please?”
“Do you have a pen?” I assumed he was new at the job, considering his age, and dismissed his nerves to that.
“Sure. Sorry.”
I scrawled my name on the line and gave him back the pen and clipboard, along with a five dollar bill for a tip. He flushed, handed me the box, and mumbled, “Thanks.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“Well…uh…have a nice day.”
“You too.” I closed the door and went back upstairs, frowning as I let myself into the apartment. “Look, Miss Su. Someone sent me flowers. Who do you think it could be?”
I didn’t have johns anymore. The only one I could think who would send me flowers was Wills, but why? Our first anniversary was still a couple of months away. Maybe to make up for not calling for four weeks?
Miss Su didn’t voice an opinion as she followed me into the kitchen. I removed the ribbon and dropped it to the floor for her to play with, then opened the box, parted the tissue paper, and caught my breath.
Nestled among the leafy ferns and baby’s breath were a dozen plump, long-stemmed roses. Red, for true love.
I had no doubt now that the roses were from Wills. He’d gotten similar ones for our buttonholes for New Year’s Eve. I picked up one rose carefully, avoiding the thorns, and brought it to my nose, closed my eyes, and breathed in its intoxicating scent. I’d always loved roses. Ma had a garden full of them.
There was no need to hunt for something to put them in. At the lower end of the box was a sterling silver vase. I took it out and ran my fingertips over its cool surface. Elegant Jacobean swirls and curlicues were etched into its sides, and I sighed happily. A man who made a gesture like this was definitely worth keeping.
Tucked in between the stems was a little packet of granules that would keep my roses fresh. I tore off a corner and emptied the contents into the vase, added water, and arranged the ferns and baby’s breath. Then I rummaged in a drawer for scissors to snip the ends of the roses.
“He loves me, he loves me not.” I smiled to myself as I put each rose into the vase. “He loves me, he loves me not.” I frowned when I came to the last two. “He loves me, he…Stupid kids’ game.”
Well, it didn’t mean anything.
I’d leave the roses on the kitchen counter for the time being; I wanted to admire them as I prepared dinner. Later I’d put them in the dining room, so we could enjoy them while we had the Cornish game hens. I pictured us holding hands across the table, gazing into each other’s eyes, maybe feeding each other bites of the game hens. Finally we’d take the roses with us into the bedroom, where their delicate fragrance would scent the air while we made love.
I rummaged through the box for the card and finally found it, a small white envelope buried under the green tissue paper, and I couldn’t wait to see what he had written.
My lover really was a romantic. In the card he’d given me for my birthday, he’d written, “Only you, Theo. For all of my life it will be only you.” In the box of chocolates for Valentine’s Day was a heart with the words, “My heart is yours completely…”