Page 34 of Sweeter than Honey
“T-Thanks,” I stammer awkwardly.
She leaves, moving quietly like a shadow. But I feel her absence in the apartment after she goes.
“Well, that was odd!” my mother says, dropping down onto the couch again. “She must really appreciate you if she showed up all the way out here, Lily. You should take advantage and ask her for that raise. You know they’ve got newly renovated, two-bedroom suites in the senior’s home now?”
“We can’t afford a two-bedroom suite for you, mom,” I sigh.
She grumbles something, and goes back to watching her show.
I return to the bedroom, and slip back underneath the covers.
My mind is filled of images of Renata. The sound of her voice, her calm presence. She came all the way out here just to check in on me! Even if her feelings are just professional, it’s nice to know that she appreciates what I do, and that she wanted to make sure I’m all right.
I’mnevergoing to get any sleep now.
To my disappointment, my first day back at work is a daytime shift, with only a few nighttime hours at the end of my workday. I feed Eli some lunch (peanut butter toast with fruit loops on it. Don’t ask me why, I’m not a five-year-old boy).
As I’m brushing my hair, I hear my mom come into the apartment.
“Lily, I’m here!” she calls. I stick my head out of the bathroom and see she’s carrying an enormous bouquet of fresh flowers.
And not just any flower…pink peonies.
“These came for you,” she says, setting them on the kitchen counter. “I intercepted the delivery person. Do you have a secret admirer you haven’t told me about, Lily?”
I hurry to the counter and look through the flowers for a card. They smellwonderful.
Who would know that pink peonies are my favourite? Not Dylan, that’s for sure. Or even if he knew, he wouldn’t retain the information for any meaningful length of time. He can recite property case law and basketball statistics like it’s nothing, but the favourite flower of his wife of five years? Nope. They’re definitely not from him.
My fingers find a little card inside the bouquet. The paper is high-quality, and I recognize it immediately. It’s from the hotel’s calligrapher, printed on the Thornblade stationary. There’s an embossed rose on the thick, creamy paper.
To Lily Harper,
We hope you had a smooth recovery. We look forward to your return.
With warm regards,
The Staff of the Respite Hotel
I’m enveloped by a wonderful, warm, tingly feeling. The flowers aregorgeous. Bathed in their sweet scent, I suddenly remember the last time I saw them.
It was the Chiu wedding, last autumn. Peonies were out of season, but the bride loved them, and the entire south banquet hall was covered in them. I was so happy, taking frequent breaks to stop and smell them, to run my fingers along their velvety petals.
Renata noticed. “You seem even more cheerful than usual today, Lily.”
I beamed at her. “I love peonies. Especially pink ones. They’re my favourite flower.”
She had smiled, and didn’t say anything else.
That was so long ago. I’d almost forgotten the interaction. Surely she didn’t remember. She deals with so many details every day.
But I don’t think I told anyone else.
Does it mean that she arranged to have them sent to me? I can’t imagine it could have been Mel, or anyone else at the office.
“Well, who are they from?” my mother snaps.
“Just the office, mom,” I reply, tucking the card gently into my pocket. I want to keep it close to me. Even though it’s not the most personal message, the thought that it could have been from her…