Any slight irritation at their attitudes quickly fled. With her words, I understood why the women had been more or less ignoring me and looking the other way when I walked through a room or passed by their desks.
“Mr. Sanders said that?” I mused. “How funny. It’s just that I really connected with someone. I met him at Mr. Sanders’ house, in one of those dinners where Judy tries to set up anyone single. This man and I clicked. It was strange. It’s like I knew him before, like we’re on the same wavelength.”
The ladies and I took an early break and went for coffee with a bit of gossip on the side, although I’d already gushed too much. I had nothing else to say. (Besides, I didn’t want to spoil my luck.) If the big boss noticed our early and slightly longer social time, he looked the other way. Mr. Sanders was usually like that, a rarity I’d been told, a kind and thoughtful boss.
I was back in my office working again when the next orchid arrived. It was a Rhynchorides Bangkok Sunset. Never had I seen anything as striking. It displayed violet-colored blooms with apricot and orange centers, which sounds rather like a circus tent or a clash of color, but the orchid was honestly not only unique but absolutely gorgeous. It too had to be placed atop the file cabinet, where it shown like a full sunset of color.
In fact, it distracted me — to the point that I couldn’t wait to call Timothy. Although we’d been chatting every evening, either via phone, e-mail, and or visits, this time, I had to insist that he halt his flower gifts.
Timothy was warm and friendly, as always, and assured me that he would attempt to temper the flower arrivals. He even promised no more orchids. Reassured, I finished my work for the day and was just setting off on a pleasant walk to my apartment, only to be confronted by a delivery man at the exit of our building.