imagine he’ll want to write the note that goes with the gift?”
She shakes her head. “No, he leaves that to Thérèse.”
I make a sour face. “Not much of a romantic, is he?”
“The Terminator? A romantic?” Ingrid throws back her head and laughs. Two other salesgirls who’ve wandered over join her.
“Oh my God,” I giggle. “I called him Mr. Robot – among other things. The Terminator is so much better.”
They laugh even harder.
Then I feel a little bad, although I have absolutely no reason to. “He does love his niece,” I concede. “He can’t be entirely evil. Do you know if he likes dogs?”
When I was doing my dog-walking gig, he gave my muttley crew a dirty look, but maybe it was because I was the one walking them.
Why am I even asking that? I chide myself. What a dumb question. It’s not as if he and I are ever going to be a thing.
“Dogs?” Ingrid looks puzzled. “Who knows? Other than his sister and niece, as far as we can tell, the only thing he likes is his planner and the sound of quiet sobbing.”
“Loud sobbing would be too disruptive?” I guess.
“Nailed it.”
Who am I working for? I think back to yesterday afternoon when I signed my employment contract. Was there a faint whiff of brimstone wafting up from the paper?
“All right. I have to put something on the note.” I frown in thought. “I’d better stick to something neutral. I guess, ‘Enjoy your special day’.”
I’m a little sad to leave the jewelry department. It’s like walking out of a fairytale garden for grownups. Once I’m out in the hallway, I blink, shake myself, and take a deep breath.
Then I dive back into work. I manage to get almost everything on the rest of the list taken care of by noon. I send a sterling silver rattle to a famous wedding dress designer who’s just had a little boy, I send hand-painted silk neck ties to a Hudson’s COO who has been with the company for five years, and I accompany both gifts with gracious hand-written notes. I pick out a dozen pairs of silk boxer shorts for Blake and send them off to be messengered to his house. And I hardly spare a single thought for the image of him in those boxers and how nicely he’ll fill them out.
I’m almost done, but I’m stymied by two items on the list. Blake’s assistant Henry has his own assistant, Shanice. Shanice has a twentieth wedding anniversary coming up. Shanice is from Trinidad, and she loves Trinidadian food. Last year, for Christmas, Thérèse sent her a gift box of Trinidadian spices and sauces, and the year before that it was dinner for two at a Trinidadian restaurant. Those are nice gifts, but a fancy dinner hardly seems sufficient for a twentieth wedding anniversary.
I’m also having trouble with the doll for Blake’s niece. When I called the toy department to order one, they laughed at me and hung up. So I guess that means no? Weird. But the Sunni Sunni line of toys is a popular one. I’ll track down one of the dolls by this afternoon. If I have to find it at another store, I will.
I manage to solve my second-to-last problem in the elevator as I head down to lunch. I run into Shanice there, congratulate her on her twentieth wedding anniversary, and impulsively say, “It’s such a special occasion that Blake wanted you to pick your own gift. On the house.”
“Blake said that?” she says, eyes widening. “That’s…different.”
I bob my head in an emphatic yes. “Yep, that’s what he wants.”
“Wow!” She beams. “Thank you. You must be a good influence on him. Maybe someday he’ll grow up to be a real boy.” Then she looks around nervously. “I never said that. Anyway, I’ve got an idea, but I’d need to see if my in-laws can babysit.”
She’s probably planning a weekend away with the hubby. Good for her. Working for Blake, I’m more than positive she’s earned it. “Think big!” I urge her. “Twentieth anniversary level of big!”
She nods emphatically. “Oh, I will!”
We step off the elevator, and she’s practically floating, she’s so happy. And so am I. I took care of almost all of Blake’s list before lunch, and I made someone’s day.
I pause in the hallway to call the personnel department and ask after Thérèse. She’s apparently going to have to spend the night at the hospital, but they think it’s just a particularly nasty stomach bug,