Alice Brown's Lessons in the Curious Art of Dating Page 0,110
out of the kitchen window into Eversley Road. Alice followed her gaze. Sure enough, the flower delivery man was still there, sitting in his van, the windows beginning to steam up.
“He’s probably just programming his GPS for his next delivery.”
“Mmmm, probably.” Ginny wasn’t convinced.
And sure enough, five minutes later he still hadn’t moved.
“Something tells me you’re going to be getting his next delivery.” Ginny frowned.
“Don’t be silly. I don’t even know who these two are from.”
“Of course you do!” Ginny scoffed.
Twenty minutes later there was another knock at the door. This time both women scurried to answer it.
“Here you go,” the delivery man grinned.
“Definitely for me?” Alice asked in confusion. There was still no card.
“You are Alice Brown, aren’t you? Yes, definitely for you!”
“OK, Columbo: what do this lot mean?” Ginny pounced the moment the front door was closed.
The women examined the colorful, rustic bouquet.
“Irises are a faith flower,” Alice explained. “Roughly translated, they mean ‘Don’t give up; have faith.’”
“And the little pink ones?” Even Ginny sounded excited.
“They’re dogwood,” Alice replied, her eyes beginning to shine. “Dogwood’s all about love and durability. It means something along the lines of love lasting the distance . . .” She faltered. Her face began to fill with color, a soft hue of pink spreading across her cheeks as if in sympathy with the colorful blooms.
Suddenly she shot out of the front door, not bothering to stop and put on her coat. She sploshed along the path and rapped on the van’s window. The electric window wound down with a gentle hum.
“But who are they from?” Alice asked breathlessly.
“Can’t say,” the delivery man smiled. “Florist/client confidentiality.”
“Well, why aren’t you moving?” she demanded. “Don’t you have other deliveries to make?”
“I’m under strict instructions.”
“Instructions for what?”
“A bouquet—for you—every thirty minutes.”
“Every thirty minutes?” Alice echoed incredulously. “How many bouquets have you got?”
He checked his sheet. “Seven.”
Alice’s mouth fell open. “All from the same person?”
The delivery man grinned knowingly.
“Can’t you just give the rest to me now?”
He shook his head. “Strict instructions, remember?”
“So, it’s a message from John, right?” Ginny said slowly when Alice returned to the apartment. “He’s sending you a love letter, isn’t he? A love letter through flowers.”
Alice nodded tightly, too dizzyingly intoxicated with the romance of it to speak. She knew she shouldn’t want this, shouldn’t let herself be excited, but she couldn’t stop herself. A message through flowers . . . it was the most amazing thing she could ever have imagined. It was literally beyond her imagination.
Ginny exhaled noisily. “I’ve got to hand it to him; that’s seriously classy!”
Half an hour later, Alice rapped on the van window again, this time armed with a cheese sandwich and a mug of tea.
“Here.” She pushed them through the open window. “If you’re going to be out here for the long haul, I might as well make sure you’re fed and watered.”
“Cheers!” The delivery man grinned as he took Alice’s lunch and placed it on top of the dashboard. He checked his watch. “Right, well, I’d better sort you out with your next bouquet.”
He got out of the van and opened the back doors, carefully positioning them so Alice couldn’t see inside. And then with a flourish he pulled out a single sprig of mistletoe.
“Easy!” Ginny appeared magically at Alice’s elbow, her coat held over her head as a makeshift umbrella. “Even I know this one. He wants a snog!”
“No, that’s not it,” Alice’s voice was quiet and distant.
“If you don’t mind me saying . . .” the delivery man interjected with a smile. He was clearly enjoying the floral mystery that was unfolding, “. . . that’s just the idiot’s idea of mistletoe; too many Hollywood movies and Christmas cards . . . No, what mistletoe really means is . . .”
“... I surmount difficulties,” Alice finished softly, the rain falling around them.
The delivery man grinned and hopped back into his van.
“So, he’s saying he’ll beat this; that he’ll get you both through it,” Ginny surmised as the girls walked back into the apartment and closed the front door behind them. She pointed at the first three bouquets, now arranged in vases and lined up in chronological order along the kitchen worktop. “First he said he was telling the truth. Then, that he was innocent. And then the third bunch said Don’t give up ...”
“... have faith in me,” Alice interrupted, her voice filling with wonder. “In us.” She looked at Ginny wildly. She felt like she was going to burst.