Page 2 of Willows and Waterlilies

“The way you talk, Mr Earl Grey,” I giggle, “you have to admit, I chose the perfect nickname for you.”

“Wait till you hear yours,” he says, then walks away before I can answer him in any sort of way.

Jonathan, I am with Jonathan. Safe, safe Jonathan.

Elijah

Lenora Woods was a creature of habit. She pretended to enjoy the simple things in life; she put on a façade of a ditzy female who was only ever fit for getting married, having babies, and being completely predictable in everything she did. She had always relied on her husband, Harrison Woods, to make the important decisions in life, and to be the main earner and provider for the family. One could hardly blame her for this was how she was raised to be. However, Lenora was a liar, an impersonator, and a damn fine actress. The woman was far from stupid; she was an intelligent person who, if she put her mind to it, could shock you with the most interesting of facts and trains of thought. Had she the confidence, she could argue you under the table until you were nothing more than a quivering wreck, wondering how the hell this woman who wore the perpetual smile of a teddy bear, fashioned cardigan sets that lacked any sense of style, and who normally chose to remain silent, had come to bring you down with a mere few words of her hidden intellect. To many, she was non-descript; to me, she was my mother, the most wonderful one in the world. I’ve always had the greatest respect for her, even if no one else took much note of her. This included my late father, who had been endearing in his own way, but by no means as fascinating as Lenora Woods.

This is why every Valentine’s Day, without fail, I come to the only florist I ever use and buy her a bouquet of white roses and agapanthus. Simple, yet elegant; understated, yet irresistible to the eye; modern, yet classic. My father, when he was still alive, used to buy her pink carnations, always pink carnations, from the very day he had decided Lenora Woods was the girl who he was going to one day, marry. The man had been infatuated with her, for she was a stunning woman who had garnered many a man’s attention. Pink carnations had been his mother’s favorite, and being a simple fellow, he decided this must be the preferred choice of his would-be wife. Lenora never told him she preferred roses, nor did she argue when he came out with the most ridiculous of ideas, nor when he came home with lipstick on his collar. She would merely roll her eyes over how cliché her situation had become. Even on the day of his funeral, when a long-standing mistress of his turned up to pay her condolences to my mother, she never openly acknowledged his infidelity. The pain was there, in her eyes at least, but she remained composed until the very last cucumber sandwich had been consumed. It was only when she retired to bed that she let the tears escape. It is a shame the man forgot how much he had once loved her.

“Morning, Mr Woods,” Carol, the friendly florist smiles at me; the fact that she knows my name is part of the reason I always use this florist. “Roses with the agapanthus?”

“Need you ask?” I tease as I lean over the counter with my trademark smirk. She rolls her eyes just as my mother would, laughing over my need to flirt with any female I happen to cross paths with. It is harmless and costs nothing to make a woman feel good about herself.

“Anything else for you today? Perhaps something for somebody who isn’t your mother?” she asks with hope in her voice. Carol has been trying to couple me off with someone since I turned twenty-five, six years ago. “I’m beginning to think I should offer myself as a possibility. It would be a hardship, but for a young, successful, and extremely handsome man like you, I’d put myself through it.”

“Now, come on, Carol, you’re making me blush,” I smile, complete with dimples. At least they’re covered by enough stubble to pretend I don’t look like a little boy every time I offer a grin. “Besides, I think you would be too much for me to handle, if you know what I mean.”

“Tsk, more like the other way round, you wicked boy!” she laughs as she wanders out back to gather my order.

While she is making the order for all I know, for she’s taking that long, I begin to meander about the place, taking in the different scents and shades of reds and pinks in the Valentine’s Day display. I wonder if I should buy a bouquet for my long-suffering PA, but then think better of it in case she gets the wrong idea. However, another voice from behind the desk picks up the phone to take an order and I find myself eavesdropping for no other reason than there isn’t anything else to stimulate me.

“So, you would like two bouquets of two dozen roses,” she repeats with an air of disapproval in her voice. I smile to myself, knowing that this can only mean Mr Romance obviously has a couple of partners on the go. “One for your ‘Darling Wife’ and another for ‘Miss Ellie Russo’. Do you want me to add your name?” A pause ensues and I find myself eagerly awaiting the name of the cad who is tacky enough to order his wife and his mistress’ Valentine’s gift from the same florist, at the exact same time. “Right, Jonathon Beck.”

The name has me wandering over to where she is still holding the phone to her ear. She notices me, seemingly recognizes my face from previous trips, and offers a smile in greeting. She then points to the phone and shakes her head while mouthing the word ‘asshole’. I can’t help but smile, being that I am in complete agreement with her.

“Can I take the addresses?” she asks at the same time as she grabs the pen stuck behind her ear and positions it in a perfect tripod grip to begin scribbling. She doesn’t seem perturbed by my watching as she writes down the two addresses, one of them being an office building not too far from here. Carol comes out with my usual order while the girl, her name being something along the lines of Gabby, takes the adulterer’s credit card details.

“Stunning, as always, thank you,” I beam at Carol as she takes my card.

“It was him again!” Gabby calls over to Carol as soon as she hangs up.

“You know him?” I ask with a curious raise of my brow.

“Oh, yeah, he’s been buying his new squeeze flowers for about three months now. Sometimes he gets his poor wife flowers too, but more often than not, it’s all for the girlfriend. I make him repeat all the details every time because I know how uncomfortable it makes him,” she says with a devious grin.

“What a creep!” Carole declares as she hands my card back.

“Three months, ay?” I ask as I shake my head with a whistle. “Must be very cunning to have kept it from the wife for so long.”

“Sly as a snake,” Gabby agrees with a shiver, “and I bet he looks like the back end of a bus. Bet the girlfriend is nothing more than a gold digger because one thing’s for sure, he must have plenty of dough, the amount he spends in here.”

“You put the extra twenty-five percent on?” Carol checks at the same time as she gives me a cheeky wink.

“Of course,” Gabby confirms as she begins gathering what she needs to make the new order.

“Carol,” I ask in a leading way, “you know how much of a valued customer I am?”

“Yes,” she replies with suspicion in her voice.

“And I bring joy to your life at least once a month?”

“What do you want, Elijah?” she asks, getting to the blunt point with her arms crossed and a smile on her face.

“How would you like to let me do you a favor and deliver the girlfriend’s flowers?” I ask politely.

“For what reason?”

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