Ginnie was pulling laundry out of the dryer when the
doorbell rang. Pepper raced around barking as usual, so she was trying to keep
a hold on his collar as she opened the door.
The flowers hid the delivery man’s face. It was a huge spring
bouquet of daffodils, tulips and hyacinth, wreathed by delicate baby’s breath.
Ginnie could hardly wait to see who it was from as she wrestled with the dog,
the vase, and handing a tip to the rather cute delivery man before he jumped back in his van
and hurried away.
Inside, she set the vase on the counter and pulled out the
card.
“You deserve beautiful things to make you smile every day.”
That was it. No name. Written in the neat, feminine script
of the shop clerk, no doubt. Ginnie felt a whiff of irritation, but she swept
it aside, looking at the flowers. They were so beautiful and fragrant. But who
had sent them?
All day, Ginnie waited for a call from her benefactor. She
had a hard time concentrating on her work, because she kept running through the
list of people she could imagine might have sent them.
“Hi, Deb, it’s Ginnie. So, um, did you send me flowers? No,
I know, I just don’t know who did! I got a beautiful bouquet delivered, and
there’s no name on the card. Oh, that’s a good idea. I’ll call the shop.”
When she called, the clerk was very friendly. She remembered
writing the note, but she was otherwise unhelpful. “I’m sorry, ma’am. The
purchase is marked anonymous. We don’t keep credit card details on file. I
don’t have a name or anything more to tell you.”
Ginnie hung up, gazing thoughtfully at the flowers. She
pulled a few crisp petals from the tulips and pressed them in wax paper in her
grandmother’s Joy of Cooking.
She wondered if her mother had sent them, but she didn’t
want to call and ask. Ever since she and Brad had broken up last year, her
mother had been so anxious for her to
find “another nice young man.” Ginnie was enjoying living on her own, and while
she didn’t want to disappoint her mother, she didn’t feel the need for a man in
her life for awhile. If her mother hadn’t
sent the flowers, she’d go on and on about them, and Ginnie just didn’t want to
hear it.
She took a photo of the bouquet and posted it with her
thanks on Facebook, figuring the sender would step forward. She kept seeing the
flowers out of the corner of her eye while she worked that afternoon, and when
she took a deep breath, she could catch the floral scent. But by dinnertime,
she still didn’t know who had given her the beautiful bouquet.
She set them on the table while she ate dinner, and before
she went to bed, she pulled a few blooms to set on her bedroom dresser. Her
eyes shuttered closed and she drifted off to sleep looking at the flowers. The
thought kept whispering through her mind. “But who sent them?”
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Dogs in house:
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Houdini
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Music:
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Sarah Chang, Selections
for Violin, 2009
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February word count:
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11172
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