Once November begins, Kowalski’s orders take on a decidedly festive theme and the workload increases. Especially so this year. Months in the planning already, the time was fast approaching for Mimi Sutton’s annual charity Grand Winter Ball. A big title for an even bigger event. While still more than a touch dubious about being a Mimi Sutton Recommendation, I was pleased that we had been given such a prestigious platform.
It had been a busy day at the store and the time Ed and I had earmarked for designing Mimi’s order didn’t materialise. But the work needed to be done so we could order the flowers and draft in extra staff in time. So I suggested having dinner at mine so we could design in more convivial surroundings. Ed agreed.
In all the time we’ve worked together, I think Ed’s been to my place maybe twice. He’s often quipped that I’m hiding a secret there and that must be why he’s rarely invited. Of course, this isn’t true. It’s just that, with Ed and me on opposite sides of Manhattan, when we meet up outside of work it’s normally somewhere in the middle. Plus, Ed has a near pathological dislike of the Upper West Side, which he claims is the preserve of superficial shopaholics with more money than sense. But I don’t see it that way at all. It’s a friendly, intelligent neighbourhood filled with fascinating people and places as varied as anywhere else in New York.
As I opened my front door and turned on the lights, Ed laughed. ‘So, you finally decided to admit me to your Holy of Holies…Do I need to remove my shoes in reverence?’
He soon made himself at home and as I dished out the Chinese food we’d picked up he took out his sketchpad and consulted his notes. ‘I went to view the venue yesterday and I think we’ve got a lot of scope for big displays. There’s an excellent staircase leading from the lobby up to the ballroom—I see fir and bay garlands working well there.’
I sat beside him and looked at his sketches. ‘Mmm, yes. Great. I was envisaging a three-colour scheme—green, white, and red for accents. We can use white gardenias and lilies along with roses for displays and table pieces. I want to avoid poinsettias, though. Way too clichéd.’
‘That’s fine,’ Ed said between mouthfuls. ‘They are so done already. Let’s look for unusual reds then—maybe utilise red foliage, too?’
‘Great.’
‘I want to do some structural stuff around the pillars in the entrance lobby, too. Something bold, showy even. We need to create a sense of awe before people see the staircase,’ Ed said, showing me the sketches he’d made.
‘See, this is why I love working with you—your designs are awesome.’
‘Though I say it myself, they are.’
There was a silence as we ate. Ed looked round my apartment. ‘I like the style in here,’ he remarked. ‘Very homely.’
‘Well, that would be because it’s my home. And I love it.’
‘Well, I love it too,’ Ed replied. He put his plate on the coffee table and sank back into the sofa. He let out a sigh and turned the full force of the blue stare on me.
‘Rosie, I owe you an apology.’
‘You do?’
He nodded. ‘Uh-huh. I’ve not been myself the past month. I’ve been frustrated with my life and I’ve taken it out on you. On more than one occasion. Which is unforgivable.’
‘Absolutely,’ I smiled. ‘Except that I forgive you.’
A broad beam spread across Ed’s face and his hand grasped mine. ‘I’d be lost without you. But you still deserve an explanation.’
I frowned. ‘I thought you just explained. You’ve not been yourself…’
‘It’s more than that. I’ve had a lot on my mind recently.’
‘I know. Karin, Ellen, Mai, Susie, Elisabeth…did I forget anyone?’ I laughed.
He looked genuinely surprised. ‘Didn’t realise you were keeping count.’
‘I’m not.’
‘You remember their names better than I do.’ Shaking his head, he let out a long, heavy sigh. ‘It isn’t working anymore, Rosie.’
‘What isn’t?’
‘The dating thing. At least, not the same as it did before. I don’t know if it’s a certain age I’ve gotten to or something else. I’ve always been more than content with dating and having fun. I never thought I needed anything more than that. But lately, I’ve found myself wanting to belong to somebody. Is that weird?’
I smiled but a bittersweet chill reverberated within me. ‘No, mate. That’s just human nature. I guess the real time to worry is when you stop wanting to belong to just any somebody and start wanting to belong to a Specific Somebody.’
‘Ah, yeah. Sure. That’s the time to leave town all right. Bad sign.’ He looked away and embarked on what appeared to be an in-depth inspection of the top of his knees. ‘I don’t know, Rosie. Do you feel like that, ever?’
‘No,’ came my abrupt reply, surprising even me. ‘Never.’ It was a lie: I needed to change the subject; I was feeling cornered again. But the game was up when he lifted his eyes again and I saw his expression. He knew me too well. I relented. ‘Sometimes, then, yes. OK, Dr Steinmann, you have an admission. But tell anyone and you die, understand?’
Ed’s smile had relief written all over it.
Marnie giggled as she held out the phone to me. ‘It’s your regular admirer, Rosie!’
I glared at her and took the receiver. ‘Hello?’
‘Rosie! I got you a gig!’ Nate’s voice was all warmth and humour.
‘Nate, I don’t know if you realised this yet, but I’m not a musician. I’m a florist.’
‘Ha, ha. English sarcasm is so quaint. Now listen up, I got you the commission for a big wedding—and I mean humongous…lavish…huge…’
My heart sank. ‘So you’re finally going through with it?’
Nate’s laugh was so loud that both Marnie and Ed looked up from the other side of the shop and exchanged glances.
‘What are you, nuts? It’s not my wedding, you crazy woman. I’ve only promised to propose to Caitlin “sometime soon”, remember? By my reckoning, that means I’m good for at least two more years. The wedding in question is for my friend. He saw that piece about you in the Times and, when he found out I knew you, I said I’d arrange a meeting. So can you come to my office tomorrow, about eleven?’
‘I…um…don’t know what to say, Nate.’
‘Just say yes, woman! The wedding’s spring next year…it’s gonna be great, Rosie! I’ll call him and confirm we’re good to meet, shall I? Say yes.’
‘Yes. But—’
‘Awesome! See ya tomorrow. You won’t regret this.’
I put the receiver down and jumped as Marnie and Ed appeared next to me like two wide-eyed bushbabies.
‘Well?’ demanded Ed.
The conversation had totally thrown me.
‘I—um—Nate said he…There’s going to be a wedding.’
Marnie squealed with delight. ‘He proposed!’
Ed frowned and elbowed her. ‘Marnie.’ His blue gaze sharpened. ‘He didn’t, did he?’
I pulled myself together. ‘No…He’s got a friend who wants us to do his wedding. It’s going to be big, apparently. So I’ve got to meet him at Nate’s office tomorrow morning.’
Marnie’s widening eyes threatened total face domination. ‘A big society wedding? With movie stars?’
I laughed. ‘I doubt it. But it’s going to be a grand affair by the sound of it.’
‘Ryan Reynolds might be there, though…I mean, it’s possible, right?’
Ed shook his head. ‘Poor, deluded child. Yeah, sure, it’s possible, baby. Maybe he’ll bring Keanu and Brad and Joaquin with him too.’
‘Ooh, Keanu…’ Marnie breathed, undeterred, as she skipped joyfully into her fantasy world. Ed and I retreated to the workroom to discuss reality, neither of us having the heart to bring her back to earth.
Sometimes, it’s easier to dream than be awake.
I didn’t sleep much that night. Once again I found myself in a dream with the face-changing embracer. Then I was running…running scared from an unseen adversary, skidding round dark corners, diving into side streets…all the time deafened by the insistent pace of a heavy beat…When I violently woke in the cold, dark silence of my room, I realised the beat was my own heart. I rose and paced round my apartment, switching on every light and looking in every corner, till my pulse rate eased and the fear subsided. I opened a window, closed my eyes and let the constant hum of the city soothe my soul for a long time. Then, taking a deep breath, I closed the window and extinguished the trail of lights on my weary return to bed.