cheek.
Devlin absorbed that information in silence. He associated birthdays with parties and gifts, cakes with glowing candles and boisterous meals full of sibling hilarity. Angela’s solitary dinner left by the housekeeper struck him as a rather lonely birthday.
“Have you had any more of those letters or calls?” Josie asked out of the blue.
Angela glanced at Devlin. “No.”
“So I guess maybe we won’t be needing you around here much longer, right?” Josie asked, directing her comment to Devlin.
“Maybe not,” he replied evenly, standing and dumping the rest of his coffee down the sink. He set the empty cup on the sideboard and left the room.
“Why did you say that to him?” Angela demanded fiercely of Josie as soon as he was out of earshot.
Josie shrugged. “I can’t see that he’s serving any purpose around here except making you miserable.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Hasn’t it occurred to you that nothing has happened to me precisely because he’s here? Should I fire him and prove my point by getting killed the next day?”
Josie dropped the wooden spoon she was holding and took Angela by the shoulders. “Hey, hey, take it easy. I didn’t mean to upset you, honey. It’s just that I see what’s going on here, and I can’t help thinking that you’d be better off if he took himself back where he came from and left you alone. I like him, Angela, but so do you. Too much.”
Angela pretended that she didn’t know what Josie meant. “I’m just worried about those threats,” she replied.
“Uh-huh,” Josie said, unconvinced.
Angela glanced at the clock on the wall. “I’ve got to go,” she announced. “Thanks for my present.”
“You’re welcome,” Josie replied, watching Angela walk out.
She stood looking after her, shaking her head.
* * * *
Angela asked Devlin to stop off at a florist’s with her on the way home from school. Holly’s anniversary was on the weekend, and she wanted to arrange for something to be sent to Holly’s apartment.
Devlin waited while she examined a booklet of floral displays, and a potted arrangement of three tall varicolored blossoms caught his eye. He walked over to it and stroked the dewy petals with a rough fingertip, “Amaryllis,” the sign beneath it said. He glanced over at Angela, who was preoccupied with her choice and not watching him. He motioned to one of the clerks and asked to have it delivered to the brownstone that night. He hastily scribbled a card and was standing with his arms folded when she turned back from the counter to go.
He waited for the doorbell to ring with restless anticipation. Angela received a phone call from her uncle, and Devlin was afraid she wouldn’t be available to answer the door. He listened to her end of the conversation, gathering that it was just a birthday message. He hung around the kitchen, fidgeting while she warmed up the food Josie had left for both of them.
When the bell rang he followed her into the hall.
She was delighted with the bouquet. She folded back the cellophane covering and sniffed the heady aroma.
“Look,” she said, “it’s the color of peaches and cream. And the feel of the petals, like peau de soie. Isn’t it lovely?”
He watched her, his pleasure more than equal to hers.
“And such a beautiful name,” she added. “Amaryllis,” she recited, reading from the plastic spike implanted in the dirt. She moved to set the pot on the entry hall table. “Wasn’t it thoughtful of Philip to send them?”
When she turned back to the room it was empty. Devlin had gone.
Puzzled, she removed the cone of cellophane from the flowers. As she did so the card that had been folded inside the wrapping fell to the floor.
Angela picked it up. “Happy birthday,” she read. It was signed “Devlin.”
Angela stood with the card in her hands, her throat tightening with unshed tears. She waited until she was under control and then walked down the hall to
Devlin absorbed that information in silence. He associated birthdays with parties and gifts, cakes with glowing candles and boisterous meals full of sibling hilarity. Angela’s solitary dinner left by the housekeeper struck him as a rather lonely birthday.
“Have you had any more of those letters or calls?” Josie asked out of the blue.
Angela glanced at Devlin. “No.”
“So I guess maybe we won’t be needing you around here much longer, right?” Josie asked, directing her comment to Devlin.
“Maybe not,” he replied evenly, standing and dumping the rest of his coffee down the sink. He set the empty cup on the sideboard and left the room.
“Why did you say that to him?” Angela demanded fiercely of Josie as soon as he was out of earshot.
Josie shrugged. “I can’t see that he’s serving any purpose around here except making you miserable.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Hasn’t it occurred to you that nothing has happened to me precisely because he’s here? Should I fire him and prove my point by getting killed the next day?”
Josie dropped the wooden spoon she was holding and took Angela by the shoulders. “Hey, hey, take it easy. I didn’t mean to upset you, honey. It’s just that I see what’s going on here, and I can’t help thinking that you’d be better off if he took himself back where he came from and left you alone. I like him, Angela, but so do you. Too much.”
Angela pretended that she didn’t know what Josie meant. “I’m just worried about those threats,” she replied.
“Uh-huh,” Josie said, unconvinced.
Angela glanced at the clock on the wall. “I’ve got to go,” she announced. “Thanks for my present.”
“You’re welcome,” Josie replied, watching Angela walk out.
She stood looking after her, shaking her head.
* * * *
Angela asked Devlin to stop off at a florist’s with her on the way home from school. Holly’s anniversary was on the weekend, and she wanted to arrange for something to be sent to Holly’s apartment.
Devlin waited while she examined a booklet of floral displays, and a potted arrangement of three tall varicolored blossoms caught his eye. He walked over to it and stroked the dewy petals with a rough fingertip, “Amaryllis,” the sign beneath it said. He glanced over at Angela, who was preoccupied with her choice and not watching him. He motioned to one of the clerks and asked to have it delivered to the brownstone that night. He hastily scribbled a card and was standing with his arms folded when she turned back from the counter to go.
He waited for the doorbell to ring with restless anticipation. Angela received a phone call from her uncle, and Devlin was afraid she wouldn’t be available to answer the door. He listened to her end of the conversation, gathering that it was just a birthday message. He hung around the kitchen, fidgeting while she warmed up the food Josie had left for both of them.
When the bell rang he followed her into the hall.
She was delighted with the bouquet. She folded back the cellophane covering and sniffed the heady aroma.
“Look,” she said, “it’s the color of peaches and cream. And the feel of the petals, like peau de soie. Isn’t it lovely?”
He watched her, his pleasure more than equal to hers.
“And such a beautiful name,” she added. “Amaryllis,” she recited, reading from the plastic spike implanted in the dirt. She moved to set the pot on the entry hall table. “Wasn’t it thoughtful of Philip to send them?”
When she turned back to the room it was empty. Devlin had gone.
Puzzled, she removed the cone of cellophane from the flowers. As she did so the card that had been folded inside the wrapping fell to the floor.
Angela picked it up. “Happy birthday,” she read. It was signed “Devlin.”
Angela stood with the card in her hands, her throat tightening with unshed tears. She waited until she was under control and then walked down the hall to
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