“I owe you an apology,” he says, and I stand straighter in my house gown. I meet his gaze and raise one eyebrow. I don’t invite him in.
“Your past is none of my business,” he says. “I transgressed”
Tears form in one eye and then the other, and as I dab them away, I realize I’m flashing my diamonds again. I shove my fist in my pocket.
Dirk fumbles in his own pocket and pulls out an ironed handkerchief, neatly folded. He hands it to me.
“The roses are beautiful, thank you,” I say.
“I don’t know the language of flowers,” he says, as if he should. “But you said you like roses.”
“I do. They’re my favorite. Thank you. What did you want these roses to say?”
He clears his throat, lingers at my doorway.
Seconds pass. A minute; and I go to step back into my apartment, to put the flowers in water, but he reaches out, past the flowers, past my hand, and cups my wrist, gently, holds it a little too long. His hand is warm and dry and in control. I hold my breath.
“I was rude to you, Lucy. It was unforgivable. Your love life and marital status is none of my business.”
I nod, not yet ready to fully forgive him. He insinuated I had many exes, and even if I did, how could he possibly think he would know the circumstances. However famous and respected the great doctor and former sports star might be, he has no more right to judge me than anyone else.
His head is bowed, his contrition seemingly genuine, and his words interrupt my thoughts.
“And I want to ask you a favor.”
“What favor?” I am intrigued. Dr Dirk O’Connell has everything – the penthouse, a red convertible, an invisible housekeeper, two doting independent children and even some grandchildren. What could he possibly want that a retired doctor’s savings can’t buy?
He blushes, and then his words pour out.
“Every time I go home to Franklin I’m mobbed by old patients and Millie’s friends, but if they see me with you, they might leave me alone.”
“You want me as your bodyguard?” I laugh, astonished.
“That’s one way of putting it.”
“Or your fake date? A cunning plan. And why do you want to go back to Franklin?”
“I need to see the house again, to make a decision about selling it or letting it out. Need to check the garden. Dee and Jamison are far too busy, and you said you miss your roses. My roses need pruning.”
I look him up and down. So serious.
“Millie’s garden.” My voice is steady.
He nods.
“But, there must be gardeners ...”
“Please, Lucy.”
“You want me to come with you to your late wife’s garden and prune her roses, and to be your fake date just to keep away everyone who misses you and cares about you?”
“When you put it like that ...”
“You should be ashamed. You should give me more roses, Dr Dirk O’Connell.” I hold his gaze – deeply serious – but then I throw back my head and laugh, and the tension drops away. He shakes his head at me.
“Of course I’ll come, Dirk, especially after a gift like this and your decent apology – which was welcome and called for, by the way. Everyone makes mistakes, but if you can admit them and apologize, you’re a good man. I’m free as a bird today. I’ll just put these in water and meet you in half an hour. Do you know, I just bought some new gloves and rose clippers? There are rose bushes right here at Brighton Court. I’m determined to get this garden under control again. You’ll be able to play ball down there with your grandchildren, Dirk. And I want to install a pizza oven. Everyone will love that.”
I consider mentioning the naysayer in Apartment One, but don’t want to be a gossip. As we leave town, it’s a joy to admire the changing view. Some days, good things happen. As we fly along the highway in the open topped sportscar with the heater roasting my toes, wisps of my hair escape my warm beanie and whip into my eyes. I shield them with one hand and steal a glance at Dirk, so handsome in his dark glasses and warm leather jacket.
