by J. J. Murray
“Okay,” Hope said. “Kiki, you know best.”
Kiki waved a finger. “And do not ever forget this.”
Chapter 11
At noon, Hope saw Dylan pushing Aniya in a wheelchair to the front door.
I didn’t know Aniya was so weak. The poor girl!
Hope ran around the counter to open the door, and as soon as Dylan lined up the wheels in the doorway, Aniya threw off her coat, leaped off the wheelchair, and ran inside.
Hope looked at Dylan.
Dylan shrugged. “She likes to go fast.”
“So she doesn’t need . . .” Hope whispered.
Dylan shook his head. “She has never needed it. I thought it would be fun to take her for a ride.”
While Dylan folded up the wheelchair, Hope watched Aniya wandering the store in jeans, a rose-colored shirt, and an oversized Yankees cap. Aniya also had an intricately painted pink-and-red rose on her forearm.
“Hope, meet Aniya,” Dylan said. “Aniya, this is Hope.”
Hope went around the counter and returned with Kiki’s stool. Aniya climbed onto the stool, and it was just tall enough that Aniya could rest her elbows on the counter.
“Is anybody hungry?” Dylan asked.
Aniya rolled her eyes.
Hope rolled her eyes.
Aniya smiled.
“I’ll just get the food ready then.” Dylan pulled the food out of a little purple cooler: peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches, grapes, sliced oranges and cantaloupe, and three wild-berry juice boxes.
“Hello, Hope,” Aniya said in a tiny voice.
Oh, my heart! Such a sweet, soft voice, and her accent is so lilting, so sugary.
Aniya turned to Dylan. “Does she talk?”
“I’m sorry,” Hope said. “I was admiring your flower. Hello, Aniya.”
Aniya looked up at Hope. “I love your hair.”
“Thank you,” Hope said. I wish she had some! I’m sure it was long and beautiful, too.
“I will have hair that long one day,” Aniya said, grasping half a sandwich and taking a bite.
“Dig in,” Dylan said, taking a slice of cantaloupe and holding it up to his mouth like a smile.
Hope smiled. “I’d like to see you put that entire thing in your mouth.”
“Gross,” Aniya said.
Dylan took a little bite.
Hope popped a few grapes into her mouth. “Long hair is no fun to take care of, though.” As if I ever do anything to my hair.
Aniya pointed at her shiny brown head. “It’s more fun than this.”
Whoops. Let’s avoid talking about hair. “I wish I had your pretty name.”
“ ‘Hope’ is a pretty good name, too,” Aniya said, grabbing a grape.
“Thank you.” Hope touched the rose on Aniya’s arm. “Did you do this flower?”
“No,” Aniya said, sipping from a juice box. “My Tatie Vadie did. She’s my crazy aunt. I have a lot of crazy aunts, but she’s the craziest. She paints herself all the time to match her dresses.”
A thrifty way to accessorize. “I’ll bet it saves her money,” Hope said.
Aniya shrugged her little shoulders. “She could just get a tattoo, right? She’d save all sorts of money. She thought I’d look cute.”
“You do look cute,” Dylan said.
“With this hat?” Aniya said. “I don’t think so. You never see any of the Yankees with flowers on their arms.”
“No,” Dylan said, “I suppose not.” He grabbed for a slice of orange, but Aniya swatted his hand away.
“My oranges,” Aniya said. She looked at Hope. “He does very weird things with orange peels. Dylan should not be allowed to eat in public.”
She is so cute and precocious!
Aniya finished her half sandwich. “Dylan says you used to be Canadian.”
Used to be? “I’m still Canadian in my heart, but I’m now an American citizen.”
“Do you speak French?” Aniya asked.
“Oui.”
Aniya turned to Dylan. “You didn’t tell me she spoke French, Dylan.”
“I thought she might,” Dylan said. “I haven’t heard her speak it. Not all Canadians speak French, you know.”
Aniya rolled her eyes. “I know.” She smiled at Hope. “Say something to me in French.”
“Je suis si heureux de manger le déjeuner avec vous, Aniya,” Hope said. “C’est le rehaut de mon jour.”
“That’s pretty,” Aniya said. “What did you say?”
“I said that I am so happy to eat lunch with you, Aniya, and that this is the highlight of my day,” Hope said.
“How do you say ‘I am happy’?” Aniya asked.
“Je suis heureux,” Hope said.
“Je suis heureux,” Aniya said perfectly.
“Très bon, Aniya,” Hope said. “Very good.” She’s quick.
“Not that good,” Aniya said. “My parents speak Kreyòl. It sounds a little like French, but it’s got other languages mixed with it. I hear ‘Tout bagay anfom?’ and ‘Ou byen’ a lot. Are you okay? Are you okay? They ask me that to death.”
I will never ask this child if she is okay. She is obviously okay.
Aniya ate a grape. “If I say ‘Mwen malad toudi cho,’ they come running. That means ‘I’m sick, dizzy, and hot.’ I sometimes say it when I can’t sleep. I even say it just to get some attention.”
“I respect your honesty, Miss Aniya,” Hope said.
“Thank you, Miss Hope,” Aniya said, smiling. “So did you have fun on your date with Dylan last night?”
Hope looked straight at Dylan, who turned away, his eyes searching the ceiling. “Did Dylan tell you that we had a date?”
Aniya nodded.
“Well,” Hope said, “it wasn’t really a date. It was more like a business dinner. Dylan and I are business partners, and business partners have business dinners.”
Aniya looked at Dylan.
Dylan shrugged.
“That’s not what you told me, Dylan,” Aniya said. She turned to Hope. “He said that you two had a date last night. He didn’t say anything about business.”
“Well, we are business partners,” Hope said. “We make greeting cards together. I’ll show you.” Hope pulled an assortment of cards from the bags under the counter and placed them near Aniya.
Aniya looked at each card, giggling occasionally, but she mostly wrinkled up her tiny lips. She looked at Dylan. “These are Christmas cards?”
“Yes,” Dylan said.
“Are they all supposed to be funny or something?” Aniya asked.
“Yes,” Dylan said.
Aniya closed several cards. “Well, they’re not.”
“Good thing she’s not in our target audience,” Dylan said. He pulled out a Ziploc bag filled with pill bottles. “Time for your meds.”
“Yuck,” Aniya said.
So many! Too many!
After Aniya took and swallowed seven different pills, she sucked on an orange slice. “I need lots of Vitamin C. I can’t get an infection.” She set the orange slice aside and yanked on Dylan’s sleeve. “Dylan, why did you tell me you had a date with Hope when you didn’t have a date with Hope?”
I like this girl! Yes, she asks many questions, but she’s asking the right ones.
“But it was a date, Aniya,” Dylan said. “I took Miss Hope out to dinner, then we had coffee, and then I walked her to her door. We held hands almost the entire time.”
Aniya shrugged. “I hold your hand nearly every day, and we’re not dating.” She blinked her eyes slowly.
This child is an actress. I cannot believe she’s five.
“Did you kiss her, Dylan?” Aniya asked.
“Well, no,” Dylan said. “You see, we—”
“Then it wasn’t a date,” Aniya interrupted.
I agree.
“We did share a nice, long hug, though,” Dylan said. “The hug was nice, wasn’t it, Hope?”
It was, but I’m not getting in the middle of this fas
cinating argument.
“It’s still not a date,” Aniya said. “I hug you before I leave every day.”
Every day? That’s so unfair. Wait. I got a hug this morning. But I have a long way to go to catch up with Aniya.
Dylan waved a crust of bread at Aniya. “Let me get this straight, Miss Aniya. Are you telling me that for a date to be a date there has to be a kiss?”
Aniya nodded. “Everybody knows that.”
Dylan put his face next to hers. “What if I kissed Miss Hope right now?” he whispered. “What if I walked around that counter and laid one on her?”
I would probably cry!
“Why would you kiss Hope now?” Aniya asked. “You have crumbs on your lips.”
Dylan brushed crumbs from his lips with his napkin. “How about now?”
I’m waiting! Me! Over here!
“But why would you kiss her now?” Aniya asked, this time with a little whine.
Oh no, child. Don’t get in the way of my first kiss in eight years!
Dylan leaned closer to Aniya’s face. “I would kiss her right now to test your theory about dates. You say a kiss makes a date. Therefore, if I kiss her right now, it’s a date. Right?”
“But this is where she works,” Aniya said.
It’s also where she generally hates life. Let him kiss me, Aniya, so I’ll at least have one good memory of this place!
Dylan rested his elbows on the counter. “Oh? So the location of the kiss matters.”
Aniya nodded. “And it’s not nighttime. A date is supposed to happen at night. Everybody knows that.”
Dylan nodded. “So the timing of the kiss matters, too. You have so many rules for dating, Aniya. I mean, according to your rules, if I laid a fat, juicy kiss on Hope right now, it wouldn’t count as a date.”
Aniya shook her head vigorously. “Nope.”
Dylan sighed and closed his eyes. “Then I guess I had better not waste a kiss if it doesn’t count.”
It would too count! Look at my eyes, Dylan. My eyes are saying yes.
“Tell you what,” Dylan said. “What if I took Miss Hope to a show called The Sense of Sound tonight and gave her a kiss afterwards?”
I am going to the show. Kiki does know best.
“Well . . .” Aniya looked at Hope. “Where are you going to kiss her?”
“Does it matter?” Dylan asked.
Of course it doesn’t matter! As long as it’s everywhere!
“If you only kiss her on the cheek, it doesn’t count,” Aniya said. “If you kiss her hand, it doesn’t count. You have to kiss her on the lips for it to count.”
“I do?” Dylan asked.
“You do,” Aniya said.
He does. But if he wants to kiss anything else between my toes and my forehead, he is certainly welcome to do so.
Dylan sighed and turned away. “But alas, dear Aniya,” he said sadly, “there is a problem.”
There is? No problem. I’ll go. We don’t even have to go to the show. He can just kiss me and save twenty-five dollars!
“You see, I am not sure if Miss Hope will go with me to the show,” Dylan said. “She may have other plans.”
My only plan is to get a kiss.
Aniya turned her too-big eyes toward Hope. “Do you have other plans?”
“No, Aniya,” Hope said. “I am free for the entire evening.” And for the rest of the night, and tomorrow morning, and Sunday, oh, and next week . . .
Aniya scrunched up her nose. “They why won’t you go with Dylan to the show?”
I didn’t see that question coming. “Because Dylan hasn’t asked me yet.”
“Oh.” Aniya’s nose relaxed. She looked up at Dylan. “Well? Go ahead and ask her already.”
Dylan smiled.
Hope smiled.
Dylan’s eyes twinkled. “Hope, will you go with me to see The Sense of Sound and then have dinner at The Islands afterwards?”
She looked into Dylan’s eyes. “Why, I’d be delighted to go with you, kind sir.”
Aniya smiled.
“So, Hope,” Dylan said, leaning heavily on the counter, “is it a date?”
Which is another way of saying . . . “Will you allow me to kiss you tonight?”! What a sneaky man! There is only one answer. “Yes. It will be a date.”
“I’ll need proof,” Aniya said. “I will need proof of the kiss.”
Wow. This girl is tough!
“Isn’t my word of honor enough?” Dylan asked.
“Nope.” Aniya shook her head. “I need a picture.”
Dylan laughed. “What if, in all the excitement, I forget to take the picture?”
Hope cleared her throat. “I won’t let him forget, Aniya. I’ll remember.”
Dylan smiled broadly.
What did I say? Oh! I have just said I want to kiss him, too! She munched on some cantaloupe. I just walked into a kissing trap! Time to bring some reality to this situation. “But Dylan, I won’t have time to change. The show starts at seven.”
Dylan scooped up the leftovers and put them in the cooler. “So we don’t change. We go to the show as we are.”
“Gross,” Aniya said.
I agree, but what can I do?
“Dylan is taking me to see The Nutcracker in December,” Aniya said.
“He is?” Hope said. “That’s wonderful.”
“And you have to come, too,” Aniya said.
Here we go again. “But he hasn’t asked me yet, Aniya.”
Aniya threw up her hands. “Don’t you two ever talk?”
Dylan turned away, laughing.
It is kind of funny. “We talk. A lot.” Tonight, however, we might not talk as much.
“Well,” Aniya said, “talk more.”
“We will, Aniya,” Dylan said, “and I will get Miss Hope a ticket to The Nutcracker.” He rubbed Aniya’s shoulders. “Ready for another wild ride?”
“I guess,” Aniya said. “He nearly ran over someone on the way here.”
“You were navigating,” Dylan said, helping her off the stool.
“Yeah, I was,” Aniya said, “but I said ‘Go right’ and you went left.” She shook her head. “He doesn’t know his left from his right.” She reached up and took Dylan’s hand.
“It was very nice to meet you, Aniya,” Hope said.
Aniya turned. “When my hair comes back, you have to make my hair look like yours, okay?”
“I will,” Hope said. Though your mother might object.
Dylan opened up the wheelchair and set the brake. “Your chariot awaits, good Princess Aniya.”
“I am not a princess,” Aniya said, putting on her coat and climbing in. “I’m going to play for the Yankees when I grow up. Geez.” She flashed a smile at Hope. “Good-bye, Hope.” She pantomimed taking a picture.
“Au revoir, Aniya.” She shook her head at Dylan. “And bye to you, too.”
“Bye.” Dylan released the brake. “A little help here.”
Hope walked to the door, opened it, and stood to the side. Dylan squeezed by her and pushed Aniya out onto the sidewalk.
“Wheelies!” Aniya cried.
“Oh, my back,” Dylan said with a wink, and off they went, Dylan leaning hard on the handles and Aniya holding on tight.
Save something for me!
Hope watched until she couldn’t see them anymore. Then she closed the door, returned the stool to the other side of the counter, and sat.
I must do lunch with that child often. That girl is a gift to this world. She’s young, naive, funny, and shrewd. She’s all the things a child should be.
She’s also a decent little matchmaker.
I’m getting a kiss tonight because of a future professional baseball player named Aniya.
Chapter 12
Two hours later, after Hope had successfully juggled several customers and more orders via e-mail from Dylan, Justin came out of his man cave, his purple shirt untucked and his eyes bleary.
“Where’s Kiki?” he asked.
“She took off a little early today,” Hope said.
“Oh.” He scratched at a reddish fledgling goatee. “Did we have a good week?”
He has no clue. I could tell him the building burned down and we rebuilt it around his office. “Yes. Better than usual.”
He nodded his head. “Good. That’s good.”
He returned to his man cave.
Yet another of life’s ironies: That man makes more money than I do.
While Hope finished ringing up a woman making flyers for Georgie, a lost miniature schnauzer, Dylan threw open the door precisely at five and stepped inside. He pretended to browse a rack of dust-encrusted stationery that had been there for years.
After the woman took her copies and left, Hope moved around the counter and stood beside him.
Look at those bristles. “You need to shave again,” she whispered.
“I’m going for a new look,” Dylan said, not looking at her. “It’s the can’t-get-a-shave-because-I’m-going-to-the-show look.”
“I don’t want you to scratch my tender skin,” Hope said.
He smiled. “I won’t.” He turned to her. “Hi, Hope.”
She looked into his brown brown eyes. “Hi.” Oh, now I’m shy. What is this madness? I was fine when Aniya was here. Now that I’m inches away from him, I freeze up.
Backing away to the register side of the counter, she asked, “Do you want to know the damage?”
“Not really,” Dylan said.
She put a stack of work orders onto the counter, spreading them out. “I haven’t had to work this much in years.”
“And we’re not really busy yet,” Dylan said.
Hope blinked. “You’re kidding.”
“As soon as November begins, people start thinking about Christmas cards,” Dylan said. “Including yesterday, we have to have broken a thousand, right?”
Hope began pulling bags and bags of cards from under the counter. “At least.”
Dylan pulled out his wallet. “Good thing I was paid today.” He took out and held up a check card. “This is the one.” He handed the card to Hope.
Hope looked at the card, “Odd Duck Ltd” staring back at her. “Is this our corporate card?”
“Yes,” Dylan said, “and I’d like you to hold onto it from now on. This way you can ring us up whenever you need to.”
“Are you sure?” Hope asked.
“Yes,” Dylan said. “This will save us time, and we’re going to be busy.”