Chapter 5
“Amanda?”
“Yes, Nanette?”
“These are for you.”
Amanda looked up and gaped. A giant bouquet, complete with legs and folded arms, was walking toward her. It stopped at her work bench and plopped itself on top, at which point the arms vanished and the legs retreated.
“This is beautiful, non?” said her trainee admiringly with a tinge of jealousy.
Amanda couldn’t stop ogling. She knew who’d sent it even though the trainee remarked on the lack of a card. Part of her was flattered, but a bigger part of her was angry. The hell is he thinking bringing this to my office!? We’re not in high school!
She tried calling Arnaud on his cellphone, but all she got was his answering service, so she hung up. She sat there for long minutes, torn between annoyance and a sense of joy that he would do such a thing. The last thing she wanted were people in the office talking about her, but she had to admit, it had been a while since she’d received flowers.
Fortunately, Savitri answered her phone right away. “So what’s the problem, Mandy? Sheesh a guy gives you flowers and you’re upset about what other people will think? All I get from men are their phone numbers, followed by and a wham bang thank you ma’am spiel as they walk out the door.”
“That’s not true.”
“Yes, it is. And that’s just the way I like it. Oh! I get it now.”
Amanda winced. Her friend could read her like a book.
“Look, Mandy. The guy just sent you flowers, all right? It’s not as if he’s proposing marriage or anything like that. This is France. Guys pride themselves on being the romantic sort and making gestures like that. You meeting up with him later?”
“No. He’s had to fly out of the country for some business meeting.”
“Or so he says, eh?”
“Doesn’t matter, Sav. I wouldn’t have minded so much if he sent it to my apartment. But sending it here? The receptionists must be talking by now. I know my assistant is.”
Savitri snorted. “So let them! They’re probably jealous. I know I am. And since you don’t want flowers, can I have them?”
“Let’s talk over lunch, ok?”
“Yup. And stop worrying. They’re just flowers, ok? By the way, what did the note say?”
“There was none.”
“So typically French.”
“Is it, really?”
Savitri laughed. “I really wouldn’t know. No one’s given me flowers, yet. And I’ve been here a year! Worse luck. Oops, I have to go. Lunch, yeah?”
“Bye.”
Amanda sat back and looked at the bouquet, no longer sure about how to feel about it. She tried calling Arnaud again, but all she got this time was a busy tone. Oh well.
Several colleagues walked in to admire the flowers, congratulating her on having such a generous lover. She was amazed at their casual attitude. Did everyone in France have lovers?! And did French lovers send expensive bouquets to their partner’s place of work?
It made her uncomfortable. Not just the attention, but also this blurring of boundaries between the personal and professional worlds. Back in London, such things were kept strictly separate. In her personal experience, her previous employers would have been neither supportive nor encouraging. And why no card?
“Perhaps,” Nanette suggested, “he believes his intent is obvious, non?” She gave Amanda a wicked smile.
Amanda’s phone rang, but she didn’t recognize the number. “Hello?”
She could hear someone breathing on the other end. “Hello? Who’s this? Hello!? Listen, I can hear you breathing, can you hear me talking? Oh bugger. I’m hanging up, whoever you are. Bye!”
Nanette looked puzzled. “Is it your lover?”
Amanda shrugged as she got back to work. “I don’t have a lover.”
*****
She saw it even before she reached her floor. Hard not to, since her building didn’t have an elevator. She paused on the stairs and sighed, drumming her fingers on the railing as she pondered the thing. Shaking her head, she finished her climb and walked slowly up to her door.
On the floor in front of it was a bouquet of roses set in a pink ceramic vase. She unlocked her door, picked the thing up, and walked in. Crooked in her other arm was the elaborate bouquet she’d received in the office, far lighter now since she’d given some of the flowers away.
She turned the vase around, but nope. No note, as usual. She picked up her phone and tried calling Arnaud again, but again got his answering service. “Typical,” she sneered.
She picked up an empty coffee can, filled it with water, snipped off the stems of her office bouquet, and stuck them in. That done, she changed into her jogging outfit and set out for her evening jog.
As she stepped out of her building, Madame Dimanche approached her with a smile. The woman was both her landlady, as well as the one who took care of the garden in the central courtyard.
“Amanda? You... eh... eh,” the woman waved her hands as she desperately tried to remember her English. She gave up. “Les fleurs?”
“The flowers? Oui, madame.”
“But no... eh... eh... card!” She snapped her fingers, delighted to have remembered the word.
“No, madame. Is it a French custom?” Privately, Amanda groaned to herself. Now my neighbors have something about me to gossip about.
Mme. Dimanche gave her a knowing grin. “It means... eh... eh... you know each other. Why say... eh... why say more. Yes?”
Amanda realized that on top of French language lessons, she also had a long way to go in understanding local nuances and customs. She sighed. “But we don’t know each other, Mme. Dimanche.”
“You will,” the woman beamed. “You will.” She gave her tenant a wave as she set off with a flower pot in hand.
Amanda stood there watching the woman walk off. It had taken her about four weeks to get a smile out of her landlady, and now, all that woman ever did was grin at her. Some guy nearly ran her over, they had sex twice, and now, he kept sending her flowers. But what he couldn’t seem to do was answer her calls for some reason. She stepped out onto the sidewalk, thinking vague thoughts about how difficult it was to crack the French.
Making her way to the Jardin des Tuileries, she hoped to catch the last hours of daylight before the prostitutes and drug dealers reclaimed it for the night. Psyching herself up for a long and enjoyable jog ahead, she vowed not to stop by any bakeries when she was through. And this time, she positively meant it.
She therefore didn’t notice the person who started following her.