“There’s a surprise for you in your office,” she said. “I…I’m very curious to see what you think.”
“OK,” I said, a little nervous. The element of surprise wasn’t quite the gift that it had been when surprise parties were the norm in high school and college. “Do you know what the surprise is?”
“Oh, it’s not from any of us,” she said. “You’ll see. But let us know what else there is.”
Now I was just damn confused. I could see what it was, but there was more? I just shook my head and moved past the two girls to my open office door.
I gasped when I turned the corner.
A dozen roses were placed inside a pristine, beautiful vase, with a small card in a purple envelope at its base. I immediately knew such a thing had not come from Malcolm, for he was manipulative but not exactly romantic. I couldn’t ever recall him having gotten me chocolate, and he had never gotten me flowers.
My gut told me who it could be, but that was just a ridiculous thought, the inner thirteen-year-old trying to squeal with delight at a fairy tale story come true. But most likely, it was one of the guys I’d met online in the past few months who thought a dramatic gesture might somehow win me over.
Still, I figured I might as well indulge in this game. I shut the door behind me, went to the table, and opened the envelope carefully. Inside was a card that was surprisingly plain for the elegance of the presentation, as if someone had decided to make something quickly and had not had time to go shopping for a more pristine card.
“Izzy, the minute I laid eyes on you, you had my curiosity. I cannot let this curiosity go without learning more about you. I have booked reservations for eight p.m. this Saturday night at Voltaire’s Steakhouse. I hope to see you there.”
There was no signature. The words were typed out, making it impossible to distinguish who had written them, even though my gut told me who it was over and over. And…
Voltaire’s Steakhouse? As in, the Voltaire’s Steakhouse in downtown Sacramento?
That couldn’t have possibly been true. It couldn’t have been real. To be honest, my general sentiment was one of being a little freaked out. Surprises like this didn’t go well for me. What, the single mother of one was supposed to accept an invitation to a blind date that was offered through a typed letter and an anonymous bouquet?
Everything about this screamed trouble. Everything, that was, except for the hopeful voice in my head that had somehow found the stamina to come back after the utterly exhausting day. All it took was one of the most surreal, unexpected moments of my life for that voice to regain its footing because it sure wasn’t coming back “into the office” before this.
I put the card down and went to the window, looking out over an office complex just a bit southwest of California’s capital. The “early leavers” had already begun clocking out and heading to their vehicles. The restaurants and bars were beginning to buzz a little bit, and the general sense was of a complex shifting from “grinding” to “relaxing.”
But how could one relax when one could either have the best chance ever Saturday or the worst, and there were no clues which way it was going to go?
I put the flowers in the corner of my office closest to the door’s hinges, making it more difficult for people to see them, and stuffed the card in one of my desk cabinets. I gathered my things and decided I would just play it off if Jordan or Rachel were still there.
I opened the door, saw them both standing mere feet away, and knew immediately that the ideal escape was not going to be the actual escape.
“So?” Rachel asked.
“So, what?” I said in my last-ditch attempt to escape without having the gossip train follow me.
“Who sent it? What is it?”
I could tell Jordan wanted to keep it light but was willing to move on if she felt I was becoming stressed by it. I could see that Rachel didn’t mean any harm.
“It’s an invite to dinner, but… I don’t know, got any thoughts?” I said with a weary smile.
“Maybe it’s Brad from downstairs. I think he’s always had an eye for you,” Rachel said. “Or, oh, it could be Tyler. Really nice dude; he’d do something like this. Or…”
Rachel kept spouting off a few names before Jordan finally cut her off.
“Are you going to accept the invite?”
She wasn’t asking for the sake of gossip, I could tell.
“I’m not sure,” I said. “What do you think?”
Jordan gave that parental, loving smile that made me feel so at ease whenever I was around her. I swore that if it weren’t for my actual mother being alive, I could probably confide in Jordan’s presence more than anyone else.
“Anyone who is willing to put a specific time for Voltaire’s is not someone who would suggest something they can’t follow through on,” she said. “It’s a very popular place, so you’re not going to be walking into the parking lot of some poorly lit McDonald’s. But I understand why you would be hesitant. If you go, make sure you tell one of us or one of your friends.”
I nodded. An awkward silence fell. I think Jordan and I wanted the group to disperse but didn’t want to be rude about it, while Rachel couldn’t help her insatiable curiosity to know more about who it might be.
Eventually, I just said thanks and kept walking away, feeling I was the only person who could end the impromptu meeting. I had to admit, as I left the building, I felt like I wouldn’t
