Penelope (continued)
“Simone, I never asked for any of this, and I can’t pay for it. Even if I raided my bank account and completely emptied it out, there wouldn’t be enough to cover the cost of all this. I signed for it, I know, but that was because I was in shock. I need you to send someone to take it back. I’m not rich!”
She cut me off with a laugh. “My darling Penelope. No worries. You will be soon. Timothy is richer than the proverbial Midas. He has already instructed me to buy whatever I think will suit you. This is only the beginning. I’ve got to go. Bye.
She left me stuttering, still holding the phone up to my mouth, even though I saw that she’d disconnected. I was about to call her back and demand her once again to pick up the clothes when the doorbell rang.
Nobody should be at the door. We had a safety feature. The box downstairs was the first inhibitor. I looked through the door and saw a man in livery. In his hands was a huge bouquet of roses, red roses. I shouldn’t have, but I opened the door, expecting to hear that he’d mistakenly come to the wrong apartment. He spoke my name and started to hand me the flowers. Then, when I didn’t reach for the heavy crystal vase they occupied, he said, “Would you like me to carry these inside?”
Alarm bells were going off. That was something that should never happen. I was just about to tell him no when he stepped into the living room and marched forward toward my coffee table. He set the roses on top of a table coaster, from the small basket on the side. The table coasters were the result of one of our art museum visits; each one showed a famous painting.
The uniformed and head-capped man turned about like a military man, said that he hoped I’d enjoy the roses, suggested that I add more water to the vase, then walked out, closing the door behind him. I scurried over to lock it, but that was the only sensible thing I’d done. I was still in shock from the clothing delivery, followed by the arrival of three dozen red roses. How did so many roses fit inside one vase?
Once my brain absorbed my surprise over the bouquet and the unbelievable beauty of so many vivid dark red roses, I realized that I was one gasp away from fainting like the heroine of some old-time melodrama. I plopped down in the chair across from the flowers and simply stared at them.