“August 29.”
“What’s Monday?”
“September 1.”
“What happens on September 1?”
“It’s Labor Day, but on Tuesday my staff goes to work on the quarterly report.”
Carmella handed him the vase of roses. “A wise man who had a quarterly report due would want his executive assistant at her desk on Tuesday morning. Sarah looked pretty mad when she left. You don’t want her to spend her long weekend brooding and be too tired or too upset to come in.”
Matt groaned.
“Take these flowers to her, make her understand that it doesn’t matter who sent them. What matters is that somebody cares about her.”
Matt shook his head, as affronted as Sarah. “Then why couldn’t he sign his name?”
Carmella shrugged. “Haven’t you ever been so tongue-tied with someone that you watched from a distance because you couldn’t go up to her and talk?”
Matt swallowed. He did know what it was like to be so tongue-tied with someone that he watched her from a distance rather than make real contact. It wasn’t a lover or potential lover. It was his mother. And he had been ten at the time.
“Think of this guy like that. Somebody who is inexperienced or somebody who likes Sarah so much that he’s afraid to make a mistake.”
Matt stared at the flowers. His situation wasn’t anything like the situation Carmella was describing, but she had struck the right nerve. The feeling was the same. He’d never approached his mother back then because the fear of rejection was stronger than the hope that she’d welcome him with open arms. He knew this flower-sender’s emotions like the back of his hand.
“When you give the flowers to Sarah explain that somebody who doesn’t know how to admit it likes her and she should be flattered.”
“And you think that will cheer her up?”
Carmella and Penny simultaneously said, “Yes.”
“Fine,” Matt said, turning to go into his office for his briefcase. “Get me her address.”
Forty minutes later Sarah opened her apartment door and there stood her boss, holding the purity flowers he had sent her because he felt sorry for her. Heat scalded her cheeks as her blood pressure and anger rose.
“Hi.”
She drew a long breath, not sure what to say that wouldn’t contain a curse word. Pure. Ha! If he pushed her she would show him pure.
“Carmella was right. You can’t just leave these at the office over the weekend.”
“Sure I can.”
“Well, it’s physically possible,” Matt agreed, “but it’s not right.”
“Sure it is.”
“No, it’s not. Let me in so I can explain these flowers to you.”
For three seconds Sarah only stared at him, blown away by his very casual admission that he had sent the roses. How else would he be able to explain them?
Too curious to hear what he had to say to reject him out of hand, she said, “All right. Come in.”
Sarah saw him glance around as if trying to waste some time before delving into the explanation he probably suspected would get him punched. As he looked at the solid khaki sofa and chair, accented by fat floral pillows and thick wood end tables with brass lamps, she didn’t say a word.
He set the roses on her coffee table. “I figured out why you’re mad about these.”
She tossed her head and crossed her arms beneath her breasts, shifting her braid over her shoulder and bunching the bulky material of her skirt at her waist. She felt like Mother Hubbard. “Did you?”
“Yes. You’re upset that someone can like you but be too cowardly to sign his name to a card when he sends you flowers.”
Though that wasn’t it at all, Sarah considered his explanation. At the core of it was an admission that he liked her. Of course, he could be saying that he liked her as a friend, but if that was all it was, he could have signed his name.
“What else?”
Matt shook his head. “What do you mean? What else?”
“You’re the expert here. I’m just the person who got the flowers.”
“I’m not sure I’m an expert, but I do understand this guy’s feelings.” He caught her gaze. “Haven’t you ever liked somebody enough that you stood across the street and stared at their house, too afraid to approach them?”
“I grew up on a ranch.”
“Okay, have you ever called somebody and then hung up when they answered?”
“Not since caller I.D.”
“You’re not helping, Sarah!”
“I don’t want to help you. I want to understand.”
Matt sighed. “I’m not sure I understand it myself.”
“Well, if you don’t understand,” Sarah shouted, angry again. “How the hell am I supposed to understand?”
Matt’s face lit with enthusiasm. “Now, see, there’s one thing right there. Saying hell isn’t such a big deal, but it reminds me that you grew up with a bunch of men, and when you get angry you can curse better than most of my friends.”
“And that’s a reason to send me purity flowers?”
“Maybe the person who sent the flowers sees there’s another side to you?”
Because Matt was still talking about the flower sender as if he were a third party, Sarah realized that there had to be an explanation for why he couldn’t talk about this directly. She fell to her sofa in exhaustion, and decided that for now, going along would be the easiest thing to do.
“I’m confused. He doesn’t like my cursing so he sent me flowers to let me know he thinks I’m pure?”
“No, he sent you flowers because he’s telling you that he sees something about you that nobody else sees.”
“Why not just tell me with words?”
“Maybe he’s shy.”
Sarah narrowed her eyes at Matt. “Shy?”
“All right, you don’t like shy,” Matt said, clearly exasperated, further confirming that he hated talking about this directly. “How about this? To have your name and business address, this guy has to be somebody you know. Probably somebody you work with.” He caught her gaze. “That means there’s a relationship of some sort already in place that
