I’m fidgety and bouncy, which are telltale signs something’s going down. “I have a plan for—” I’m interrupted by a knock at the door.
My flower delivery guy is holding a huge bouquet of flowers with a Canadian flag perched between white and red carnations, white lilies, and a bunch of other flowers conforming to the same color scheme. The theme is strictly Canadian. Charlene is right on my heels, looking over my shoulder.
“Hi, Fred.”
“How’s it going, Violet?” He seems nervous. I can’t blame him. The last time he was here, I was pissed off and took it out on the flowers. I also made mention of hockey whores and hookers.
“I’m good. Sorry about last week.” I take the flowers. Charlene is practically piggybacking me to get a look at them. “This is my friend Charlene.”
“Hi.” Charlene waves.
“Hey.” Fred waves back and gestures to the flowers. “I guess you made up?”
“We did.”
Fred nods and looks down at his feet. This is weird.
“Well, thanks for bringing the flowers. Have a good night.” I send him on his morose way.
“I bet Alex would be pissed if he found out the guy who delivers his flowers has a crush on you.”
I put the new bouquet in a vase. “Fred doesn’t have a crush on me.”
Charlene snorts but doesn’t comment further. “Hey, there’s something else here.”
A small box sits in the middle of the bouquet. I open the card first.
I can’t wait to show you around my hometown.
~xo Alex
Charlene grabs the card out of my hand. “What’s this? His hometown? “xo”? Oh my God! What’s going on?”
“Alex wants me to come to his game in Toronto.”
“And?”
“And spend the weekend with him in Guelph.”
“Bless you.” Charlene hands me a tissue. “So where are you spending the weekend? You’ve already said yes, right?”
“Guelph and no.”
Charlene plucks another tissue from the box.
“I’m not sneezing. Guelph is the name of his hometown, you asshole. I needed to make sure I could get the time off work first before I said yes.” I cleared it with the boss this morning. I told him it would be good for networking. It’s not a total lie.
“This is huge. I can’t believe he invited you to his hometown. Does that mean you’ll meet his family? You have to go to this game.”
“If we can convince my mom we need to go to Toronto, she’ll pester Sidney until he agrees, and he’ll get the tickets. The Hawks are doing really well. He’ll want to support Buck.”
“Smart thinking.”
I hand a martini glass to Charlene. “Right?”
Having Alex buy the ticket for me is far too extravagant for a second date. If my parents go, it solves all the issues. I’ll still feel a little guilty about it, but I’ll survive.
The other part of my plan is to convince Charlene to come, too. I’ll need her moral support at the game. It’s a lot to ask since I’m not sure I can get Sidney to spring for her plane ticket as well. “Will you come?”
“Are you kidding?”
“Sidney can probably get an extra ticket to the game and the hotel will be covered.”
Charlene immediately starts searching for last minute flights on her phone. “And I’ll get to meet Darren in person, what could possibly be better?”
I clink my martini glass against Charlene’s. I’ve got her on my side. All I need is to convince my mom and it’s a go.
The deep rumble of my mother’s Mustang and the heavy dance beats signal her arrival at the end of drink number two. As usual, she doesn’t knock. “Is that Char’s car in the driveway?”
“Hi!” Charlene puts down the shaker to accept my mom’s overzealous embrace.
“You look great!” Mom kicks off her shoes and wanders into the kitchen. “Is that a martini? What kind is it? You girls don’t mind if I join you for a drink, do you? Sidney’s got a conference call in an hour, and I’m not in the mood for a quickie.”
I pretend I don’t hear the last part and help Char make her a drink.
“Oh, new flowers!” She waves her hands in the air like she’s ready to break into a dance routine. She sniffs the blossoms. “These are beautiful! What’s this?” She picks up the small box on the counter.
I completely forgot about it, having gotten caught up in explaining the situation to Charlene.
“I’m not sure.” I’m hopeful it’s nothing inappropriate or my mom is likely to overshare her own personal experiences.
She thrusts the package at me. “Well, open it.”
I take it with some reluctance, praying it’s not porn related.
I tear away the red and white paper to uncover a box of maple leaf shaped candies. Huh. This is far from offensive. I’ve grown accustomed to Alex’s mildly inappropriate gifts, cards, and emails.
I pop one into my mouth. It dissolves the moment it hits my tongue. Oh God, it’s heavenly. It’s like . . . maple sugar. Soooooo good. I do the contented moan thing. I don’t want to share them because I’m greedy, but I feel bad moaning my food pleasure while they stare.