fine.”
“You might want to get that cough checked out, Betty. Just in case it means that you’re sick.”
Crazy Betty waved a hand in her direction. “The card, child. Read the card.”
Marissa plucked the card from the little plastic holder, slid her finger under the flap , and extracted the beautiful contents. The fiber-specked paper appeared handmade. The cover read, “A birthday is a wondrous day. Yours is especially wondrous. It’s the day we met.” She swallowed as she read this and then opened the flap. A thick, folded piece of lightweight, handmade paper fell from the card. Marissa caught it between her fingertips before it floated to the floor. “I want to read this one in private, if you don’t mind,” she said to the two women before her.
“Can you read us the big card? When I was a young gal, Mr. Sondheim – he was my first husband – he would leave me notes in my mailbox. It was so romantic. Did I ever tell you about the first note ne ever sent me?”
“Yes, I believe you did.” Six times, so far. Marissa stared at the elegant script before her. It says, “Mi corazón, we have met at last.” Her face reddened. “That’s it.”
“That’s it?” Crazy Betty said, fanning her face with her hand. “Child, you’re going to give me the vapors. He’s telling you that this is destiny. You two were meant to meet right now.”
“Maybe,” Marissa began.
The door to the back swished open, and Cara stuck her head out. She shot a laser beam glare at Marissa, tapped her watch, and disappeared.
“I’ve got to go next door and get a sandwich before I faint.”
“I’ve got me some leftover pork chops you can have.”
“Thanks, Betty , but pork chops aren’t my thing.”
“You kids these days and your diets. When I was your age, I ate nothing but meat and potatoes. It kept me from getting the vapors on the farm. I didn’t make it this far because I ate like a rabbit, I can assure you of that.”
“I just don’t like pork. But thanks.”
Marissa hustled next door to buy lunch, zipped back to her office, and chewed on the sandwich at her desk. The card and insert were kept tucked inside her purse until she could spare a moment. The beautiful flowers sat next to her monitor while she worked. An exquisite array of colors and blooms, she imagined him choosing each stem. The thought made her smile. From time to time, she’d ascend from her swamp of tasks, ponder the flowers, grin, and resume working. She had to get this stuff out the virtual door by end of day.
At three, Cara stuck her head around the cubicle. “I’ve got a meeting until four, then another meeting at 4:15, then a dinner meeting with a client. I trust you to get this to me today whether I’m here or not. I’ll check my email before I go to bed. Any changes will have to be done first thing tomorrow . ” Without waiting for a reply, she whirled away.
“Whew,” Marissa said. When she heard the door to Cara’s office shut, she withdrew the card. Her fingertips moved slowly on the rough paper. “Handmade paper is so cool,” she said. Savoring the moment, she opened the card and unfolded the three page insert. Her eyes soaked in the elegant script. “How do people write like that?” She fingered the words flowing down the first page. Then she read.
The Beckoning of Beautiful Things
What person does not a beauty love?
Mine eyes except me not.
When beauty called I sought to please,
Until my heart was shot.
Of bronze and gold my yard explodes,
The images of love gone past.
But now my heart rejoices once more,
For love returns at last.
Marissa puzzled over the poem which hinted at heartbreak and hope. The tiny birds within swirled in a typhoon of sensation. Want. She swallowed and closed her eyes for a second. Taking a deep breath, she read further down the page. A list of flowers and their meaning followed.
Alyssum (Lobularia maritima) – Worth beyond beauty (you)
Baby’s Breath (Gypsophila paniculata)