Chapter 25
Gabriel
My dinner last night was boring. There was no laughter, whimsy, or spark to the evening. It was just me and old Mr. and Mrs. Vinton. Sure, I enjoyed their company, but it wasn’t the same. I suspect Gloria Vinton and Lexie would have hit it off. Gloria’s kind-hearted and a tad non-traditional herself. She tinkers in the arts, bad sculpture mostly, but she’s got that quirky vibe that Lexie seems to have in spades.
Sighing, I wait for the elevator doors to open on my floor. When they do, the first thing I notice is the vase filled with a dozen red roses on the receptionist’s desk. I look beyond those to see Lexie. When I approach, she pulls off her headset. “Thank you for the flowers, Gabriel. They’re beautiful.” As I’m about to speak, she adds, “And, I forgive you.”
She forgivesme?What the hell? I should be the one forgiving her. She’s the one who embarrassed me at dinner night before last. She’s the one who slammed the door in my face. But the sad truth is I didn’t send her red roses. That crone neighbor of Lexie’s was right. Red roses don’t suit her. Pink roses would match that sweet little blush she has on her cheeks right now. Fuck! I wish I had sent her roses because now I’m going to pull my damn hair out wondering who sent flowers tomywoman.
“Those aren’t from me.”
She blinks up at me, brow creased, looking confused. “You didn’t send them?”
“Are you sure they’re for you?” Delivery people always leave things like that at reception. Lexie signs for them and calls the recipient to pick them up. I see her blush at my question.
“Yes. The card was addressed to me.”
“What did it say?”
“It said, ‘none of your business’.”
“None of your business? That’s odd… oh,” I nod. “I get it.”
She rolls her eyes. “The card didn’t say anything. It was blank inside.”
“Ah, a secret admirer?”
Her face flushes again, but a small smile appears on her face. “Maybe.”
Maybe my ass. “Which florist sent them?” I'm going to call them and get a name out of them even if it costs me a million dollars.
She pulls the card out of its plastic holder and reads, “Fleur De Lis Florists.”
“Oh, that place is crap.” I want to laugh at myself for saying something so ridiculous. I use them almost exclusively. Not for carnations, though. I bought those at the corner market. Live and learn.
She flinches at my words and shrugs, “I think they’re beautiful. Beats carnations.”
“Touché. You got me there.” When the phone rings, I take the opportunity to head back to my office. “Katya?” She must not have heard me coming because she was right in the middle of a riveting game of Candy Crush. She quickly minimizes the computer screen to reveal our email server page.
“Yes, Gabriel.” I hate it when she uses my first name.
“Get Fleur De Lis Florists on the line for me, please.”
“Right away, Gabriel.”
When the phone buzzes in my office, I pick it up and hear a woman’s voice, “Fleur De Lis.”
“Yes, hello. This is Gabriel Parker.”
“Oh, well hello Gabriel. What can I do for you today? Need to send flowers to some poor woman you’ve tossed aside again?” Margery Fleur cackles into the phone. She’s my mother’s oldest friend and quite an outspoken character. Rude, but a character.
“No. I need to know who sent my girlfriend flowers.”
“Your girlfriend? The one I’ve been seeing on your arm in the rags the last few days?”
“That’s the one.”
“She’s not your typical, uh, well, I can’t say girlfriend since you never date anyone longer than an hour or two. So, I’ll just say she’s not your usual type.”
