have reviewed your reports and I’m very pleased with your work. Thank you for getting them to me in such a timely manner. I was pleasantly surprised to learn that they were waiting for me when I returned to my office after coming out of surgery today.
I can’t say enough about how much I appreciate your efforts. I hope it’s still okay to send you additional work.
Very gratefully,
S. Marcum
Without hesitation he clicked the “send” button.
* * *
Cynthia was pleased to have his gratitude. It was always nice to get affirmation for her efforts. Good manners and a sexy voice. Two for two as far as she was concerned.
As much as she liked his praise she didn’t want to have to stay up late or work on weekends to get it. Hopefully other work he sent wouldn’t require her doing so. She’d handle that issue when the time came, if it did. She also had to honor her other clients’ needs as well.
Cynthia typed a message.
Dr. Donavon,
I’m so happy you were pleased. Just let me know if I can help out further.
Cynthia
She reread the note twice. It was polite, yet businesslike.
A minute later a message landed in her mailbox.
Thank you! I do, in fact, have more work for you. I will send it through today.
S. Donavon
Maybe she’d offered too quickly. Apparently this grant was extremely important to him. At least he hadn’t put a time period on when he needed these reports returned.
In the middle of the afternoon the doorbell rang. Cynthia answered it to find a delivery man holding a green plant in a blue ceramic pot.
“Cynthia Marcum?”
“Yes.”
“This is for you.” The man handed her the pot.
Dumbfounded, Cynthia was left to stare at it as he climbed into his van. No one had ever sent her something from a florist. There had been flower arrangements when her parents died but never something just for her. What was going on?
She looked down at the full, beautiful plant with broad leaves and a vivid red flower in the center. Tucked under one of the leaves was a white envelope with her name scrawled on it. Closing the door with her foot, she carried the plant to her office and set it on the corner of her desk. Removing the envelope, she pulled out the card inside. Written on it was: “Thanks, Sean Donavon.”
He’d sent her a thank-you plant. Cynthia couldn’t help but smile. That was thoughtful. Dr. Donavon had just earned another point. No matter what he looked like she could fall for someone who took the time to say thank you. She loved her brothers but “thank you” wasn’t something she regularly heard. She didn’t regret her sacrifices or what she did for them but she would like some understanding and appreciation sometimes. She looked at the plant again. Dr. Donavon’s office manager had no doubt taken care of sending the gift.
A short time later the work he wanted done came up in her system.
She opened her email and clicked “compose.”
Dr. Donavon
Thank you so much for the beautiful plant. You shouldn’t have, but I will enjoy having it on my desk.
I received your dictation and will work on it today and tomorrow. I’ll send the reports when they are completed.
Cynthia
* * *
It was almost midnight on Tuesday when she finally finished the last of her work. She’d spent most of the early part of her day typing her other clients’ dictation. Rick had had a basketball game that evening and that had meant she’d made it back to her desk chair late. Still she was determined to have all her typing done so she could start fresh the next day. That meant working late.
Wednesday morning, she opened Dr. Donavon’s normal surgical dictation and listened for the soft cadence of his voice as he spoke through her headphones. Smiling, she reached out and touched the tip of one leaf on her plant. Between his usual work and the special assignment, she was getting to spend many hours with his delicious voice. She was becoming moony-eyed over a man she’d never seen and knew nothing about. He could be married for all she knew. Enough of that—she needed to get to work.
Hours later she punched a key and sent the twenty separate reports she’d finished off to his electronic folder.
Feeling good about what she had accomplished that day, she took a long, hot shower before heading to bed. Having forgotten to turn off the kitchen light, she headed down the hallway. As she passed her office door she noticed the light flashing on her cell phone, indicating she had an email waiting. She received few this time of night so she feared it might be something important. It was from Dr. Donavon.
Had she tried she couldn’t have slowed her rapid heartbeat. What was he doing working this late? She should wait until morning to open it but it would mean she would stay awake wondering what he had to say. Far too eager for her comfort, she double-tapped the key.
Thank you for the reports and you’re welcome for the plant. It was just my small way of saying thank you.
Good night.
S. Donavon
How could a simple business email make her so giddy? She had to get a grip where Dr. Donavon was concerned. More than his voice was starting to get to her. What would it sound like to have him say good night in her ear? A shiver went up her spine. Cynthia shook her head. She’d been up too late. Her mind was beginning to play tricks on her.
She climbed into bed, pulled her quilt over her and smiled before drifting off to sleep.
* * *
Sean didn’t make a practice of sending someone a thank-you gift for helping him with work he was already paying them to do, but he liked Ms. Marcum.
She’d really helped him out. He’d never sent a plant, or flowers for that matter, before. Even after a date. As far as he was concerned they were a waste of money, which was better used on something practical like a power bill or making an investment.
From the tone of Ms. Marcum’s emails, she seemed an agreeable person. Someone he could work well with for a long time. Sean liked to keep good employees happy to prevent having to search for new ones. He’d been successful at it too. His office manager and several of his nurses had been with him for years.
He wasn’t in the habit of taking chances. He’d seen more than once growing up what happened when someone took a chance. He didn’t do it with places to live, friends or when making decisions on which stocks to buy. Only sure things interested him. That was just what the grant proposal had to be: a sure thing. Ms. Marcum was going to help make that happen.
Sean had worked until two o’clock in the morning the night before and still hadn’t
