The Birthday Gift

Today was her birthday.  It was a sunny, pleasant day, not as muggy as yesterday. Too bad she couldn’t treat herself an iced tea.  She was late, thanks to a delay on the tube. It was ten minutes after nine.  She hurried down the sidewalk and arrived at the office building seven minutes later.  She took the lift instead of the stairs.  As she walked through the work area to her cubicle, she caught a few people staring and smiling at her.

She stopped short when she got to her desk and saw the white box tied with a red ribbon lying in the center.  There was an envelope tucked underneath the ribbon.  She pulled it out and opened it.  She took out the card.  It was a pretty card with a bird and flowers on it with the words, “Happy Birthday.” She opened it and read the neat handwriting which simply said, “Best wishes on your birthday”.  There was no name.  Curious, she opened the box and gasped when she saw a dozen beautiful orange roses.  She had never seen roses this color before.  Their sweet scent filled the air.

By now, a few of her co-workers had gathered around her desk, admiring the roses and teasing her about having a secret admirer when she told them that she had no clue who gave them to her.  “Are you absolutely sure that you don’t know who sent you these?” Stella asked.

She shook her head.  “I honestly don’t know who sent me these.”

“You know I read somewhere that orange roses express admiration and attraction,” Ruth commented, looking enviously at the roses.  “These are definitely from an admirer.”

She stood there trying to figure out who it could be.  There was one person she wished they were from but dismissed the thought.  When everyone returned to their desks, she went to the kitchen to fill a vase with water.  She took the roses out of the box and put them in the vase.  She set the vase on the shelf above her desk.  It was hard concentrating on her work as she kept wondering who sent her the roses.  The card offered no clues.

When her friend Irene called to let her know that she was on her way to pick her up for lunch, she asked her to come upstairs.  She wanted to show her the roses and the card.

After Irene wished her a happy birthday, hugged her and gave her a small gift bag, she showed her the roses and the card.  “I have no idea who sent me them.”

Irene read the card and then handed it back to her.  “I do,” she said.

She looked at her.  “You do?” she asked, incredulous.

“Those roses are from my garden and this is Edward’s handwriting.”

She shook her head in disbelief.  “No, that’s not possible.  You’re pulling my leg.”

Irene looked amused.  “I assure you, I am not.  I saw him in the garden this morning, picking the roses and when his pants leg got caught on the thorny bush.  Then, I saw him get into his car and drive off.  He didn’t even bother to pop his head in to say hello.”

She looked at her friend dazed.  “I can’t believe it,” she murmured.  Well, you wanted the roses to be from him, didn’t you?

“Come along now, my Dear.  We will talk more about it over lunch.” She took her by the arm and escorted her out of the office.

“Why would he send me roses for my birthday?” she asked when they were sitting in the restaurant.

“Why do men usually send roses to women?” Irene asked dryly.  “Obviously, he is besotted with you.”

“But, he can’t be,” she protested.  “He’s never let on that he is.”

“Edward was always good at hiding his feelings, too well, if you ask me.  He’s the male equivalent of Elinor Dashwood.  I had no clue that he harbored any feelings for you until this morning.”  Just then their orders arrived.  Irene raised her glass in a toast.  “Here’s to many more happy birthdays,” she said.

She raised her glass, her mind still reeling from what she had just learned.  The plate of flavorful Chicken Biryani sat in front of her but she hardly tasted it.  Could it really be true?  Did Edward have feelings for her?  How she hoped that were true.

“Edward’s coming over to my place this evening,” Irene informed her.  “Why don’t you come over and thank him personally for the roses?”

Her heart did a somersault at the thought of seeing him.  “Won’t he wonder how I know that they are from him?

“Leave that to me.  Come around 7:30.”

“All right, I’ll come.” Knowing that the roses were from Edward made them even more precious.  She would take half of them home with her.  They would look lovely on the mantelpiece and definitely brighten up the flat.

They spent the rest of lunch talking about other things and then Irene gave her a ride back to the office.

It was 7:30 and she was walking up driveway to Irene’s quaint cottage.  Her eyes fell on the rose bush.  She tried to picture Edward picking twelve roses from it, getting pricked and entangled but it seemed so fanciful.  She rang the doorbell, her heart pounding.  She heard footsteps and then Irene opened the door.  She smiled at her.  “Come in,” she said.  “Frank and the kids are at the playground and Edward’s out in the backyard.

“Thank you for the lovely scarf and funny card,” she said, hugging her friend.

“You’re welcome.  Would you like something to drink?”

“Not right now, thanks,” she said as she stepped into the foyer, thinking what a lovely and cozy home it was.  It was warm and welcoming.  She removed her sandals and carried them.  She followed Irene through the living-room and through the kitchen.  Her heartbeat accelerated with each step and when she saw Edward sitting in a chair with his back to the door, she felt nervous.  She put on her sandals, feeling three inches tall again.  Irene stood at the door while she went onto the deck and down the steps.

“Hello, Edward,” she called as she approached him.

He turned around at once when he heard her and then got to his feet.  His eyes were wary as they met hers.  “Hello, Anne,” he said quietly.

She rested her handbag on the table and put her hands behind her back so that he wouldn’t see that they were shaking.  “I—I wanted to thank you for the beautiful roses,” she stammered.

“You’re welcome.  It was rather remiss of me not to sign my name in the card. It would have saved you the trouble of trying to figure out who sent the roses.  I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize.  Everyone thought that they were from a secret admirer…” her voice trailed off as she immediately wished she hadn’t said that but she was so nervous and he seemed so rigid.

“Do you know why I chose orange roses instead of red?”

She shook her head, her eyes wide as they met his.  Her mouth went dry as he moved closer, looking intense.

“Not only do I feel a deep love for you but a wild passion.  I know that to you I may seem stiff and aloof but that’s just on the surface.  Underneath, I am like a volcano, ready to erupt.  Am I scaring you?” His eyes were dark now and stormy with the emotions he was feeling inside.

She shook her head again, moving closer.  His words shocked and thrilled her at the same time.  She never imagined that beneath that reserved exterior such feelings existed.

He reached up and cupped her face between his hands and his lips covered hers, moving passionately on them, not seeming to care that they might be seen.  He kissed her like a man who had long been restrained from showing his feelings and was now breaking free from those restraints.  She responded to his fiery kisses, her arms tight about his waist.  This continued for several minutes until the sound of voices reached their ears.  Frank and the kids had returned.  They broke apart. Edward pushed his fingers through his hair as he tried to steady his breathing while Anne gripped the top of the chair next to her, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath.

“Let me take you out for dinner,” he asked, his eyes earnest as they met hers.  “I want to celebrate what’s left of your birthday with you.”

“I’d like that very much,” she managed to say.  What could be more perfect way to celebrate her birthday than a romantic dinner with Edward?  She walked around the table to where her handbag was.  Opening it, she took out her lip gross and with a trembling fingers, applied it to her lips.  After she placed it back in her bag, she went back to where Edward stood, waiting for her.

As they walked toward the house, the children came bounding out, followed by Frank and Irene.   While the two girls chatted excitedly with Uncle Edward about their afternoon in the playground, Irene came over to her.  She put her arm around her shoulders.  “How did it go?” she asked.

Anne smiled.  “He’s taking me out for dinner,” she said.

“Well, have fun,” Irene said and hugged her.  “I’ll call you during the week.”

Anne went over to Edward who was talking to his brother-in-law.  The children had darted back inside the house.  Frank smiled at her.  “Happy birthday,” he said, hugging her.  “How was your day?”

“Thank you.  It has been a wonderful day,” she remarked, looking at Edward.

Frank gave them both a knowing look.  “Well, enjoy the rest of it,” he said.

“I will.”  She turned and waved to Irene before she and Edward walked away, his hand reaching for hers.

 

 

Source:  Teleflora

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Dinner for Two

She was in the children’s section, looking at the different books of Nursery Rhymes when she heard someone call her name.  She looked around and her heart leapt when she saw Tyler.   She hadn’t seen him since last week Saturday.  He walked around the people milling about there and came and stood beside her.  “Hello Stacey,” he said, his eyes dancing over her face as if he were trying to capture every feature.   “I was hoping that I would see you again.”

“I’m here to buy a book for my niece.  She’s going to be three tomorrow.”

“I’ve been thinking about you all week,” he told her.  “I wished I had your number so that I could call you.  Have dinner with me tonight.”

“But what about Amy?” she exclaimed.  “She’s enamored with you.”

“And I’m enamored with you.  I have been since last week Saturday when Darnell and I had dinner with Amy and you at Benares.   I’ll never forget the first time I saw you. When you walked over to the table, you took my breath away.  I could hardly take my eyes off you. I wished that it were just the two of us having dinner but if it hadn’t been for Darnell, I wouldn’t have met you.

“Amy’s my friend.”

“And Darnell’s my friend but I can’t help the way I feel about you.  Have dinner with me tonight.”

She hesitated.  Amy would never forgive her.  Just yesterday when they spoke, her friend was wondering why she hadn’t heard from Tyler as yet.  As far as Darnell was concerned, Stacey had made it clear to him, in a tactful way, of course, that she wasn’t interested in him.  After a few attempts to get her to change her mind, he gave up.  So, the only person left to consider was her friend.  “Amy will be very upset,” she told Tyler.

“I’m sorry about your friend but I never gave her any reason to believe that I would go out with her.   It’s you I want to be with.”

Stacey couldn’t deny that she wanted to be with him too.  He had been on her mind all week and it was such a blessing to see him now.  “All right, I will have dinner with you tonight,” she said.

He looked relieved.  “I will pick you up at six-thirty.”

She opened her handbag and took out the address book.  She wrote her address on a blank page, tore it out and gave it to him.  “See you later,” she said.

His eyes twinkled.  “See you later.”  And he was gone.  She turned to the shelf beside her and after examining a few more books, she chose the Mother Goose Nursery Rhyme book.  She grabbed a salad from a deli and headed back to the office.

He picked her up promptly at six-thirty.  He looked amazing in the black jacket, black shirt, black jeans and dressy shoes.  His sleek, auburn hair was combed back, giving him a polished look.   For her part, she was wearing a black dress, with three quarter sleeves and a keyhole neckline.  Her hair was swept back, with several curls framing her face.  “You look absolutely beautiful,” he told her.

“And you look so handsome.”

He took her to a romantic restaurant with a breathtaking view of the city of London. Over dinner he told her about the time in high school when he had to memorize a monologue from Hamlet for his drama class and on the day when he was supposed to do the presentation, he came down with the flu.

She teased him.  “Do you still remember it?”

He smiled.  “I do and I promise I will recite it to you when I am taking you home.”

Dinner was wonderful.  She had a terrific time.  He was so easy to talk to.  They laughed and talked about all sorts of things.  She was sorry when it was time to leave.  On the way home, he recited the monologue as promised and remembered it word for word.  She clapped when he was done.  “Have you ever thought of becoming an actor?” she asked.

“Heavens, no!  I like sitting behind a desk and designing buildings much better.”  That was how she learned that he was an architect.

Twenty minutes later, they stood outside of her flat.  “Would you like to come in for a cup of tea?” she asked.

“I’d better not.  I have an early day tomorrow.  When can I see you again?”

“Tomorrow afternoon.  I will make dinner and we can eat while we watch a movie.”

“That sounds really good.”  He smiled.

Unable to resist, Stacey reached up and brushed the hair back from his forehead.  He caught her hand and brought it to his lips.  He kissed the palm, his eyes darkening on her face.  She felt a bolt of electricity course through her.

He raised his head.  “I’d better go now,” he murmured as he released her hand which was tingling.

“Good night, Tyler” she said breathlessly.

“Good night, Stacey.” He turned reluctantly and walked toward the elevators.

She watched him as he waited for the elevator to arrive.  When it did, he turned and waved before he stepped inside.  She opened her door and went inside.  She couldn’t wait for tomorrow to come.  For now, she had the memories of tonight to occupy her.

 

 

Source:  Benares

 

The Dinner Invitation

He resisted the urge to bury his face in her hair and…  Sharon stopped typing and stared at the laptop screen.  She was tired and the thoughts were not coming as they should. Her mind was not on the story she was writing.  She was thinking about Jason.  

This afternoon when she walked into the reception and Lauren greeted her with, “Good afternoon, Susan.  Please let Jason know that I’m here,” she had to grit her teeth to stifle the angry retort that rose to her lips.  Plastering a smile on her face, she said for the umpteenth time, “It’s Sharon.  And, I will let Mr. Armani know that you are here.”  She got up from her desk, grabbed the folder with papers she needed him to sign and walked away.

She fumed as she headed to her boss’s office.  How she detested Lauren Forbes.  She was a beautiful, statuesque and glamorous woman with thick, bouncy strawberry blonde hair.  Sharon felt plain and ordinary compared to her.  She saw the admiring glances that her male co-workers cast at Lauren who seemed oblivious–perhaps because she was so used to the attention.

Jason was sitting at his desk, typing something when she knocked on the door.  “Come in,” he called without looking up.

Sharon went in and closed the door behind her.  “Lauren Forbes is here,” she announced dryly.

He looked up then.  “What’s the matter?” he asked, his eyes searching her face.

“Nothing,” she said, busying herself with the papers in the folder.

“I know you, Sharon.  You’re upset about something.  What is it?” he insisted.  She had his full attention now.

She paused to look at him.  “I can’t stand the woman,” she admitted.  “She gets on my nerves.”

His lips twitched.  “You really shouldn’t let Lauren get to you like this,” he advised.

“I don’t know—” her voice trailed off.  She had been about to say, “I don’t know what you see in her.”   Really flustered now, she stepped back from the desk.  “I will send her right in.”  And she was out of the office before he could say anything else.

“You may go straight in,” she told Lauren who gave her a rather disdainful look before sauntering off.  For the rest of the afternoon Sharon was in a bad mood.

Now she sat in front of her laptop, staring at the screen, unable to concentrate.  What on earth did he see in her?  She seemed so shallow.  He could do so much better.  

The sound of the doorbell startled her.  She glanced at the time on the laptop.  It was seven.  Who could be stopping by now?

She got up and went to the door.  She looked through the keyhole and her eyes nearly popped out of her head.  It was her boss.  What was he doing here?  She drew back from the door, agitated.  She wished he had called to warn her that he would be dropping by. She was in her dressing-gown and her hair was pulled by in a not so flattering hairstyle. She couldn’t keep him standing out there while she changed.  She had no choice.  Taking a deep breath, she unlocked the door and opened it.

She saw his eyes travel over her and she shifted self-consciously from one foot to the other.  “I wasn’t expecting anyone,” she told him.  Least of all you.   He looked so fine in his charcoal grey suit and black shirt with a matching black and grey tie.  He looked like he just walked off the pages of GQ.  She could feel her pulse racing and she hoped she didn’t look as nervous as she felt.

“I apologize for dropping by unexpectedly,” he said.  His eyes seemed to linger on her face which was beginning to feel hot.  “May I come in?”

“Yes, sorry.” She stepped aside and she caught a whiff of his cologne as he passed her.  She closed the door and leaned against it for a moment.  Her heart was beating really fast now.  “Was there something you needed me to take care of?” she asked.  Why was he here?

He looked around the unit and then turned to face her.  “Very nice place you have here,” he commented.

“Thank you.”  He looked really, really good.  She hoped she wasn’t staring.

“This is not a business call,” he told her.

“Oh.” was all she could say.  He was obviously going somewhere.  Perhaps he and Lauren were going out for dinner and for some reason he decided to stop by here before…

“Have dinner with me.”

Stunned, she blurted, “Pardon me?”

“I wanted to ask you to have dinner with me tonight this afternoon when you came to my office but you left before I could.”

“You want me to have dinner with you?”

“Yes, that’s why I am here.”

“But I thought that you and Lauren—”

“What did you think about Lauren and me?”

“I thought you and she were going out.”

“It’s strictly business between Lauren and me.  Besides, she’s not my type.”

“What is your type?” the question was out before she could prevent it.

He smiled.  “I will tell you over dinner.”  He glanced at his watch.  “I made reservations for eight.  You had better get ready now.  I will wait over here.”  He turned and was walking over to the table where her laptop was.  She hurried past him and closed the top. The last thing she wanted was for him to see her poor attempt at writing a romance.  He didn’t say anything but sat down.

“I won’t be long,” she promised, all the while wondering what she was going to wear.

Thank goodness she had had a shower around six-thirty.  She rushed to her bedroom and closed the door.  After frantically searching through her walk-in closet, she seized the black dress she had bought just recently.  She hadn’t worn it as yet.  Well, it was about to make its debut.  She got dressed and tried to fix her hair as best as she could.  She was not a make-up person.  A flattering shade of lip gloss was all she needed.  After a quick once over in the mirror, she slipped her feet into a pair of pumps and grabbed her clutch purse.

When she walked into the living-room, Jason’s eyes traveled slowly over her, obviously liking what he saw.  “You look amazing,” he said.  He stood up.

She smiled.  “Thank you.”  As they walked to the door, she was aware of him and that his eyes were on her.  She still couldn’t believe that this was happening.  She had planned a quiet evening, working on her story.  Never did she expect Jason Armani to show up at her door and invite her out for dinner.  This was going to be some evening.

 

Promotion

She got the news that morning and as soon as she got

back to her desk, she texted her boyfriend, Rob.  “I just

got promoted to Managing Editor.  They absolutely

loved the profile I did on Rosalind Spencer, the famous Haute

Couture designer who recently launched her new cosmetic line.

Let’s go out and celebrate tonight.  Pick me up at 7:45”

 

She could barely get through the rest of the day because she

was so excited.   When five o’ clock finally rolled around, she

packed her things in large plastic boxes and labelled them as

well as her phone and monitor for the move.  By the time she

was done it was after six.  She rushed out of the building and

almost sprinted to the subway.  She wanted to get home by seven

because she had to get ready for her dinner date with Rob.

 

The train pulled into the station just as she reached the bottom

of the stairs.  She headed straight for a seat next to the door

because she wanted to make a quick exit.  As train pulled away

from the platform, she began think about how she had gotten

where she was now.  Writing had been her passion since she was

10 years old.  It was born out of her love for reading.  She was always

writing about something or someone so it was a no brainer that

she would go to Boston University it offered great variety of journalism

programs.

 

During the summer, she went to New York where she did an internship

at Modèn Magazine and loved it.  A year later after her graduation

she got an entry job at the company.   She worked hard, pouring her

heart into her writing and churning out article after article, while

learning the ins and outs of the business.  She hadn’t expected  her

writing to catapult her into this new position so soon.

 

She was to start her new position on Monday.  Her heart skipped

a beat as excitement and nervousness filled her.  She went over

in her mind what her responsibilities would be.  She was going to

supervise the day to day operations of the magazine and report

to Jennifer, the editor in chief who had given her this position.

 

“I can do this,” she told herself, quickly squashing the doubts that

surfaced.  She was going to bring to this new job her experience as the

Women’s Ministry leader at her church.  She already had ideas which

she would run by the team she was going to work with.   She whipped

out her notebook and quickly jotted them down while they were

fresh in her mind.   She was so caught up in what she was doing that she

almost missed her stop.

 

“I’ll do some more brainstorming over the weekend,” she decided as she

hurried down the sidewalk to her building.  “Tonight, I just want to

celebrate with Rob over a delicious Pasta dish.”

 

woman writing on train

 

Sources:  Study.com; Work Chron; College USA Today