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This week I’ll throw myself into work and not think about anything else. I’m not a big fan of SPAM or any animal meat, but I’m less thrilled to find my next assignment is Celery, the Unsung Kitchen Worker.
Tuesday, I’m down to the last SPAM recipe test: SPAMtastic Canine Treats. The recipe has been approved by my co-worker’s dogs, but it hasn’t been presented to any royalty. Tonight I’ll see if the biscuits pass the Princess test.
I leave work with a bag of samples, retrieve Princess from home, and drive to Sandy’s. In the back yard, we present a sample to our testers. Snuggilicious scarfs hers down in a flash. Princess sniffs, ventures a dainty lick, shakes her head, and steps back. Snug looks to Princess, who nods, then Snug makes short work of Princess’s rejected biscuit.
“I’d call that a success,” Sandy says.
“I don’t know.”
“Princess passed but didn’t reject it outright. She would have if she’d deemed it inedible. Seriously. Once Snug pulled chicken bones out of the trash, and Princess was there and wouldn’t let her eat them. It was so odd that I wasn’t sure what I was watching, but after the biscuit trial, I’m certain. Princess is one smart dog with excellent communication skills.”
“That’s what people tell me. We’ll get going because it’s a work night. Thanks for letting Snug be a tester.”
On the drive home, my phone rings. The call is from a blocked number and therefore easy to ignore. Twenty minutes later, Princess and I are at home, and the blocked caller rings again. I check but find no messages. Thirty minutes later, it’s the same caller and no message. When the phone rings for the fourth time, I decide to mess with the salesperson for fun.
“Internal Revenue Service,” I say.
“Good evening, Beverly.” A familiar feminine voice, the FAB concierge, says. “I’m calling on behalf of Fabio. Are you available to attend a wine tasting and reception on Thursday evening at The Tower Club? The dress is cocktail attire.”
What the heck? I’m dumbfounded.
“Hello? Beverly, are you there?”
“Yes, I’m here.” And now I’m angry. “And why should I want to attend a wine tasting or anything with Fabio?”
“Excuse me. I must not be communicating effectively. Fabio wants you to be his plus-one this Thursday.”
“You can tell Mister Fabio I’m busy Thursday night, but even if I wasn’t, if I wanted to attend an art museum or wine tasting by myself, I could do that without him.”
“I see.” The voice goes quiet. Maybe I was rude, I know she’s just doing her job, but then she asks, “Is the issue not enough advance notice?”
Really? They must think I’m lonely and desperate. Although that’s true, I’m not that desperate. “That’s a secondary issue. The primary issue is Fabio shouldn’t ask out a date if he’s going to ignore her. Oh, and another thing, he shouldn’t use an intermediary to set up his dates. He should make the calls himself.” I’m shaking and my voice sounds shrill to my ears.
“Oh. I understand. Thank you for your time. Good evening.” The voice is gone.
With my eyes closed, I sink into my egg chair and take deep breaths. Princess, who has ignored me since the biscuit debacle, lays her head on my knee. Cautiously, I stroke her fur and she sighs. Oh my goodness, we’re bonding. I grab the opportunity to connect with her. “Princess, do you think I did the right thing?” Princess tilts her head and looks at me as though I’m an idiot. She walks away. Oh well, this is progress.
I did the right thing. At least I think I did. I’m tempted to call the girls, but the concierge conversation zapped my energy. Thank goodness SPAM, Reimagined for Millennials wraps up tomorrow, and I have a coffee date with Austin to look forward to this Sunday.
***
CELERY ROCKS. THE VEGETABLE turns out to be amazing and versatile. It’s rich in vitamins A, K, and C, and minerals like potassium and folate. It's low in sodium and low on the glycemic index. Adding celery to a diet improves a person’s sex life by increasing the pheromone androsterone, a natural aphrodisiac in male perspiration. Celery also contains chemicals that dilate blood vessels, increase sex drive, and enhance climax.
No wonder celery juice drinks are popular. After learning of these momentous benefits, I suggest changing the title from Celery, the Unsung Kitchen Worker to Celery, the Unsung Kitchen Hero. I think Celery, the Well-hung Kitchen Hero might inspire even more sales, but our cookbooks are G-rated.
Driving home from work Friday afternoon, I stop at the grocery store and buy three humongous heads of celery. I’ll gift these to my BFFs Sunday night at dinner, and everyone will thank me.
At home, there’s a notification about a delivery taped to my front door. The package must be too large to fit in the mailbox if it needs to be picked up at the management office.
I put my groceries on the table and the leash on Princess. We head to the office. It’s ten minutes until six, but the door’s already locked. Well, I don’t begrudge anyone for locking up early on a Friday; besides, I’m not expecting anything. It’s probably not important.
***
SATURDAY MORNING, WHEN Princess and I get back from the dog park, it’s after 10 a.m. We find the management office open, but empty. A gigantic floral bouquet sits on a table, aromatizing the air. A note scribbled on the message board reads: Enjoy a cup of coffee, back in ten minutes. As soon as we sit down, an office staffer hurries in. “Sorry. Mr. Marple bought a new car and forgot. He got upset because he thought someone had parked in his covered space. What can I do for you today?”
“Hi, you must be new. I’m Bev from Unit–”
“Oh,” she interrupts. “These flowers are for you. They must have cost a fortune. By the way, I’m Dora. Nice to meet you.”
“For me?” I stare at the mass of flowers, then at Princess, who looks on curiously. The card reads: Please forgive me. I was a terrible date. Sincerely, Fabio.
The day turns fuzzy. I must be in a trance because when I place the flowers on my dinette, I have zero recollection of the walk home. Princess watches intently. I imagine the gears turning in her brain as she works to uncover the mystery. I don’t have a clue.
The day’s to-do list has nothing pressing on it, and that’s a good thing. My concentration is shot. In the evening, I join several girlfriends for a movie, and when I get home, I can’t recall the plot. For the second time in eight nights, I indulge in a healthy dose of allergy medication. I hope my brain reboots overnight because in the morning I meet Austin. Tomorrow evening, maybe Jodi and Sandy can help me figure everything out.