merriment saying yes, she had brought the roses here while I slept.
“They arrived before dawn,” Marilisa said. “The concierge couldn’t get over their fragrance.” She looked at me questioningly. “Where did he buy them?”
“You know it’s a ‘he,’” I said with a smile.
“Of
course
it’s a ‘he.’ It’s traditional to send roses…” She stopped, and now it was her turn to blush.
“I don’t know where,” I said, but I suspected he had done some extraordinary magic with the international flower marketers. These roses were the essence of India.
“If you find out, I must know,” she said. “They are so incredible.” And then she looked at me, suppressing a wider smile. “Can I do anything for you?”
“No, thanks Marilisa.” I realized that she had seen me asleep in my clothes, and I left her to her imaginings.
“Okay, call if you need me,” she trilled on her way out. Her work here was her dream job in many ways, and she was very well paid. The man who had arranged all this for her was, yes, Bredon. She was in love with him and in awe of him, so clear from her reactions the few times I had seen them in the same room. Thus I was her special charge. Bredon had picked well. She was wonderful.
I went and enclosed the vase in my arms, inhaling the fragrance of the roses. The traditional small white envelope sat amid the stems, which had been stripped of their thorns. Highend florists did this routinely, as I had seen, with a small stem-hugging collar that clamped under the blossom; pulling the collar straight down, the thorns came off in a shower. The art was to take the thorns but leave the stems looking green and untouched. There is an art to everything, I thought. Especially love.
Rand’s note in the envelope said, “Soon, my Darling. R.” And I marveled again at how he had managed to send these, wondering if he had flown to India. I would ask him when he got back, when I thanked him with words and kisses and my body…I was growing heated just imagining it.
A message light blinked; Robin’s voice. “Dray, I’m in town passing through, quick lunch? Call me if you can meet me.”
I hit the return-redial. “Yes, yes,” I said, still half crumpled, my robe not fully on; I was so happy she was back, even for a day.
She laughed at my eagerness. “I can’t wait to see you either. First we visited my mother’s family. Now we fly out to visit my father’s family. Then I can return to the city and live a normal life. I think.” Her dry, resigned recitation of her duties had me giggling. But then she grew serious. “I shouldn’t be so cavalier,” she said. “I
hope
I’m coming back here in two weeks or so. It’s open-ended.”
“Are you worried? What’s happening?” I asked.
“The health of the oldest members of both families is iffy,” she replied. “I’m hoping they hang in there. But I don’t want to be too definite about it. You know the old saying, if you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans for the future.”
“Or you can tell
Her.
Maybe She’ll be more understanding,” which got an appreciative chuckle from Robin.
“I’ll pick you up and we can eat near your place, okay? We’ll have maybe an hour, and then I’m off to the airport.”
“Yes, come up,” I urged, wanting to share the glorious roses and news of Rand with her.
She knew immediately that something was afoot. “You want me to come to your
apartment
to get you?” she enunciated, and at my giggle she said, “Oooh, now I really can’t wait. Noon. See you then,” to my laughing, “yes, yes,” and I felt that happiness of a best friend coming to share news and heart secrets.
I finally got myself into the shower, and into another set of clothes, rushing now so that if Robin did have more time, we could sit here while I told her about Rand. I turned on my computer, did a cursory scan of my e-mails, nothing pressing, and closed down. I also buzzed down to Marilisa, whose cleaning
“They arrived before dawn,” Marilisa said. “The concierge couldn’t get over their fragrance.” She looked at me questioningly. “Where did he buy them?”
“You know it’s a ‘he,’” I said with a smile.
“Of
course
it’s a ‘he.’ It’s traditional to send roses…” She stopped, and now it was her turn to blush.
“I don’t know where,” I said, but I suspected he had done some extraordinary magic with the international flower marketers. These roses were the essence of India.
“If you find out, I must know,” she said. “They are so incredible.” And then she looked at me, suppressing a wider smile. “Can I do anything for you?”
“No, thanks Marilisa.” I realized that she had seen me asleep in my clothes, and I left her to her imaginings.
“Okay, call if you need me,” she trilled on her way out. Her work here was her dream job in many ways, and she was very well paid. The man who had arranged all this for her was, yes, Bredon. She was in love with him and in awe of him, so clear from her reactions the few times I had seen them in the same room. Thus I was her special charge. Bredon had picked well. She was wonderful.
I went and enclosed the vase in my arms, inhaling the fragrance of the roses. The traditional small white envelope sat amid the stems, which had been stripped of their thorns. Highend florists did this routinely, as I had seen, with a small stem-hugging collar that clamped under the blossom; pulling the collar straight down, the thorns came off in a shower. The art was to take the thorns but leave the stems looking green and untouched. There is an art to everything, I thought. Especially love.
Rand’s note in the envelope said, “Soon, my Darling. R.” And I marveled again at how he had managed to send these, wondering if he had flown to India. I would ask him when he got back, when I thanked him with words and kisses and my body…I was growing heated just imagining it.
A message light blinked; Robin’s voice. “Dray, I’m in town passing through, quick lunch? Call me if you can meet me.”
I hit the return-redial. “Yes, yes,” I said, still half crumpled, my robe not fully on; I was so happy she was back, even for a day.
She laughed at my eagerness. “I can’t wait to see you either. First we visited my mother’s family. Now we fly out to visit my father’s family. Then I can return to the city and live a normal life. I think.” Her dry, resigned recitation of her duties had me giggling. But then she grew serious. “I shouldn’t be so cavalier,” she said. “I
hope
I’m coming back here in two weeks or so. It’s open-ended.”
“Are you worried? What’s happening?” I asked.
“The health of the oldest members of both families is iffy,” she replied. “I’m hoping they hang in there. But I don’t want to be too definite about it. You know the old saying, if you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans for the future.”
“Or you can tell
Her.
Maybe She’ll be more understanding,” which got an appreciative chuckle from Robin.
“I’ll pick you up and we can eat near your place, okay? We’ll have maybe an hour, and then I’m off to the airport.”
“Yes, come up,” I urged, wanting to share the glorious roses and news of Rand with her.
She knew immediately that something was afoot. “You want me to come to your
apartment
to get you?” she enunciated, and at my giggle she said, “Oooh, now I really can’t wait. Noon. See you then,” to my laughing, “yes, yes,” and I felt that happiness of a best friend coming to share news and heart secrets.
I finally got myself into the shower, and into another set of clothes, rushing now so that if Robin did have more time, we could sit here while I told her about Rand. I turned on my computer, did a cursory scan of my e-mails, nothing pressing, and closed down. I also buzzed down to Marilisa, whose cleaning
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