Send Me No Flowers

by Gabriel, Kristin

  She smiled and waved back at him.

  Drew cupped his hands around his mouth. “I said I need to talk to you!”

  She shrugged and pointed to her earmuffs, indicating she couldn’t hear him. “Number nine...equal opportunity for singles.” The crowd hooted and clapped its hands in support, their applause muted by the thick mittens on their hands.

  “Rachel, I need to talk to you right now!”

  “What?” she mouthed, or at least, that’s what he interpreted. The crowd shifted, enabling him to edge a little closer. “I want to talk to you.”

  Either she didn’t hear him or she was ignoring him, and he had a sneaking suspicion it was the latter.

  “And reason number ten...all that candy causes cavities.”

  The crowd exploded with laughter and muffled applause. Somebody started singing a chorus of “We Shall Overcome.” Drew reached her at last, grasping her by the shoulders. “You’re driving me crazy,” he shouted.

  “What?” she asked, leaning closer to him.

  “I’m crazy about you.” He’d just wanted to get her attention. Or at least, that’s what he told himself. He’d never said those words before. To any woman. He just wanted to test them out. Test himself. But instead of panicking at the words, he felt warm all the way down to his toes. Then he looked down at his shoes. Someone in the crowd had dumped their hot cocoa on the ground, soaking his white Nikes.

  “I still can’t hear you,” she said, flipping off her earmuffs.

  He took the bullhorn away from her before she could incite a riot. “I said, are you crazy?”

  This time Rachel heard him. So did the rest of the crowd, judging by the gasps and the sudden hush falling over them. Too late, he realized his mistake. The bullhorn was still on and had picked up his words.

  He turned to the crowd, among them several irate members of the chamber of commerce. “I’ve got this boycott situation completely under control,” he said through the bullhorn. “Now why don’t you just disperse calmly and quietly while I deal with Dr. Grant.”

  “Why don’t you pick on somebody your own size?” shouted a malcontent in the crowd.

  So much for diplomacy. “I’m not picking on anybody. Dr. Grant started this mess...” The sound of police sirens saved him from saying something stupid. While the protesters milled around in confusion, Drew took advantage of the opportunity to make his escape.

  He grasped Rachel gently by the elbow, disengaging her from the crowd. She didn’t look too happy about it, mouthing words that he probably didn’t want to hear. Once they were at a distance from all the pandemonium, he heard her only too loud and clear.

  “Listen, you big jerk, you can’t drag me around like some Neanderthal. Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?”

  He dropped her arm and whirled around to face her. “Yes, let’s talk about my mother. I saw her on television, climbing around on that Cupid statue. Did you brainwash her into joining this stupid boycott?”

  “In the first place, this boycott isn’t stupid. And in the second place, your mother came to me about joining the boycott. But why am I telling you this, you obviously sent her in as a spy.”

  His jaw dropped, his amazement at her accusation quickly followed by chagrin that he hadn’t thought of it himself. Then it all became clear. His mother just wanted to win the bet. She was siding with the enemy for a lousy fifty bucks! “Where is she?” he asked, looking around the crowd.

  Shivering in the bitter cold, Rachel wrapped her arms around her body. “She and Frank Anders went to the coffee shop on the corner to warm up. Crawling around on that stone statue is bone-chilling work.”

  He shook his head. “What was she even doing up there?”

  Rachel pointed to the statue. “Putting underwear on Cupid. Irma knitted him a pair of red drawers because she thinks it’s indecent to have a naked statue in the town square. Especially in the middle of winter.”

  Drew stared in disbelief at the statue, noticing for the first time the bright red boxer shorts hanging off of Cupid’s stone waist. This was a living nightmare.

  “So now you’re protesting naked statues. What’s next? A field trip to the art museum to paint clothes on all the nudes? Don’t you have anything better to do with your time, Dr. Grant? Aren’t there enough lunatics running around to keep you busy?”

  She tipped her chin. “We don’t call patients lunatics anymore. And I happen to think this Valentine’s Day protest is important. See how many people showed up.” She nodded toward the crowd.

  Too many, by Drew’s calculation. He needed to act fast. And the only plan he could come up with was the one Charlie had suggested earlier in the evening. Make Rachel forget about the boycott by rekindling her romance with her ex-fiancé.

  His every instinct screamed against it, but he didn’t have time to come up with an acceptable alternative. Besides, the sooner he got Rachel out of his system, the better. Even now he couldn’t resist moving a step closer to her and rubbing his hands up and down her arms to warm her. “You’re cold.”

  “I’m fr...fr...freezing,” she said, her teeth chattering.

  He opened his bulky overcoat and wrapped it around her so she was pressed up tight against his chest.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, clearly torn between outrage at his presumption and the lure of his body heat.

  “I’m keeping you warm so the crowd doesn’t turn on me. They already don’t like me. Can we just talk like this for a few minutes?”

  “I guess so,” she said, burrowing into his warmth. “Just make it quick.”

  He inhaled the herbal scent of her hair, and felt the soft curves of her body pressed up against him. He was more than warm now. He kept his arms wrapped around her, enveloping them both in his thick wool overcoat. “That’s better,” he murmured against her earmuff. “Much better.”

  “I’m not so cold now,” she said, nestling her cheek against his shoulder.

  “Me, neither,” he said huskily, enjoying Rachel in his arms. Enjoying it way too much. He didn’t want Rachel Grant in his life. He couldn’t afford Rachel in his life. And the city couldn’t afford any more of these anti-Valentine’s Day shenanigans. It was time to get his mind back on business.

  “I was hoping,” he said, before his resistance weakened even further, “that you might consider coming to my house for dinner sometime this week.”

  She pulled back slightly to look up at him. “Dinner at your house? That sounds a little fishy. What are you up to now, Drew?”

  He pressed his lips together. They felt chapped from the cold air. For one brief moment, he thought about warming them on Rachel’s mouth. But that wouldn’t accomplish anything except filling his head with fantasies. Impossible dreams that could never come true.

  “Look, Rachel, I know I’ve been kind of a jerk lately. I really want to make it up to you.” That was true. He had been a jerk; ambushing her on television and forcing her into a date. But would reuniting her with Russell really make her happy? Drew didn’t want to think about it.

  “I don’t know...” she said softly, nibbling on her lower lip.

  “How about tomorrow night?” he said, hoping to catch her at a vulnerable moment. “Around seven?”

  He held his breath, hoping she would let down her defenses and agree to dinner. Then Russell could make his move. He tried to ignore the image that evoked in his mind. But the more he thought about it, the more he hoped she refused his goodwill gesture. Maybe he’d made the wrong decision. Maybe he should give it some time, think it over before he did anything rash.

  But Rachel didn’t give him a chance. Before he could withdraw his invitation, she came to a decision.

  “All right, Drew,” she said huskily, stepping out of his arms. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

  Then she turned and walked away, leaving Drew to wonder if it was possible to get frostbite from the inside out.

  GINA SAT ON THE FLOOR in Rachel’s bedroom, her back propped against the foot o
f the bed. “It’s after midnight, Rach,” she said, stifling a yawn. “Can I go home now?”

  Rachel stood in front of her closet, rifling through her clothes. “I know it’s late, but I really need your opinion.”

  “For a date with Drew? I still can’t believe you agreed to it. Don’t you despise the man?”

  “Despise is a strong word.” Rachel drew out a bright red-and-white polka dot dress, then turned around and held it up to her. “Well?”

  Gina squinted. “Makes me dizzy.”

  Groaning, she hung it back in the closet. “Drew and I have had our share of disagreements, but I think he’s really trying to make amends. The least I can do is meet him halfway.” She held up the topaz blue wool dress she’d worn on her date with Gordon. “How about this?”

  “Boring with a capital B,” Gina said, stretching her arms above her head. “I can tell this is going to take a while. Do you have anything to munch on?”

  “There’s a box of Twinkies on the nightstand.”

  “Speaking of Twinkies, how’s Russell?”

  Rachel pulled out a black dress with a long slit up the back, eyeing it critically. It was one of her favorites, but probably too formal for this occasion. “Russell?”

  Gina tore open the cellophane wrapper containing a pair of Twinkies. “You remember him. The tall blond hunk who made your name immortal among beetle lovers everywhere.”

  “Of course I remember him. What about him?” She pulled a peach silk pantsuit from the back of her closet. It had possibilities, but she didn’t have any shoes to go with it. She frowned at the rainbow of shoes on the shoe rack on her closet floor. Why hadn’t she ever bought peach-colored shoes in case of an emergency?

  “What about him?” Gina echoed in disbelief. “Rach, the guy is still crazy about you. Did you read those love letters he wrote to you?”

  “I skimmed them.” She turned toward Gina, holding a pink wool suit in front of her.

  Gina shook her head. “Too old-fashioned.” She broke a Twinkie in half, licking the creamy white filling in the center of the cake. “Well, maybe you’d better take a closer look. I read a couple of those letters and had to take a cold shower. He really wants you back.”

  “I know,” she said, rejecting one outfit after another, until she reached the end of the clothes rod. “He’s called a couple of times.”

  “And?”

  Beginning to panic, Rachel stared into her closet. “And I don’t have anything decent to wear! What am I going to do? I’ve got a full schedule tomorrow so I don’t have time to go shopping.”

  Gina finished off the last of her Twinkie.

  “What’s going on? The last outfit you wore on a date with Drew would have been rejected by the Salvation Army. Why all the fuss and worry about this date?”

  Abandoning her closet for the moment, Rachel plopped down on the stool next to her dresser. “I’m not worried. I just want to look nice. Maybe I can go shopping during my lunch hour tomorrow.”

  “Skip lunch? Now I know it’s serious.” Gina smiled as she licked cake crumbs off her fingers. “When did it happen?”

  “When did what happen?” Rachel asked, studying her fingernails. Maybe she’d make time for a manicure, too.

  “When did you stop thinking of Drew Lavery as the enemy?”

  Rachel looked at her. “He’s still the enemy. I just think this dinner is his attempt at a cease-fire. Maybe he’s even ready to surrender.”

  “He’s not the only one. Do you realize this is the first second date you’ve been on since Russell went AWOL last February?”

  Rachel started to protest, then realized Gina was right. “But this really doesn’t count as a date. The only reason Drew and I are seeing each other at all is because of the boycott.”

  “Please. If it doesn’t count, then why are you on the verge of a fashion anxiety attack? Why don’t you just admit you’re falling for the guy?”

  “Because I don’t want to fall for him,” Rachel insisted, knowing it might already be too late. “I’m happy with my life just the way it is. I don’t have room for romance.”

  “Spoken like a true coward.”

  Rachel’s jaw dropped. “What’s the supposed to mean?”

  “It means you’ve been pushing guys away ever since Russell dumped you. It’s not healthy.”

  “At least I’m not planning to send him a giftwrapped boa constrictor for his birthday!” she exclaimed, referring to Gina’s latest murder scheme.

  “I’m not going through with the snake plan. It would put a squeeze on my budget.”

  . Rachel reached for a Twinkie. But Gina grabbed the box and held it out of reach. “No more Twinkies until you admit the truth. You’re afraid to fall in love again.”

  “This is silly. I am not afraid of anything. I just happen to believe you don’t have to be in love to be happy.”

  “I know. It’s your mantra. And, I’m actually starting to believe it, too. But believing it doesn’t mean you have to be single for the rest of your life. Maybe being with Drew can make you even happier.”

  “I’d be ecstatic if you’d just please pass me the Twinkies.”

  Gina held up a package in the air. “Not until you admit you’ve been using Twinkies as a substitute for love. When Russell left, you ate them to fill the void. And now, since Drew entered the picture, you’re fighting your attraction to him by turning to Twinkies instead.”

  “I think you’ve been reading too many pop psychology books.”

  “I think I’m right. You’re afraid to fall in love with Drew Lavery.”

  “That’s ridiculous. I haven’t known him long enough to fall in love.” Rachel didn’t want to talk about Drew anymore. She wanted Twinkies.

  “There’s no timetable for falling in love. Some people take months, some weeks, and some only seconds. Why don’t you just admit you’re falling for him?”

  “Because I don’t want to fall for him,” Rachel exclaimed. “I’m not sure I can trust him. I’ve never known a man so focused on getting what he wants. And he really wants to stop this boycott.”

  “Maybe his focus has changed. What if he wants you?”

  Rachel swallowed. Was that possible? Just the idea of Drew wanting her, with no agenda and no ulterior motives, suddenly made her feel all giddy. It was also scaring her to death. “So what should I do?”

  Gina tossed her a package of Twinkies. “I say go for it. If it doesn’t work out, we can split the cost of the boa constrictor and wreak our revenge.”

  Rachel gazed at the package of Twinkies in her hand, now realizing what she really wanted. She tossed the Twinkies back to Gina. “Deal”

  EARLY THE NEXT MORNING, Drew told Russell he had a date with the girl of his dreams.

  “You’re making dinner for me and Rachel?” Russell sat at the kitchen table, his spoon poised in midair over his Fruit Loops.

  “The works, Russ,” Drew replied, spreading cream cheese over his toasted bagel. “It will be a dinner she never forgets.”

  “And she’s coming tonight?”

  “At seven o’clock sharp. Bet you can hardly wait.”

  Russell put his spoon down. “Well, actually, I’d planned to watch a special on PBS tonight. They’re rebroadcasting ‘The Bugs From Brazil.’ It’s a great show.”

  Drew stared at him in disbelief. “You mean, you’d choose a rerun over Rachel?”

  Russell shrugged. “I just think tomorrow night would work better for me.”

  “Tomorrow night? You’re lucky she even agreed to have dinner with you at all. If you cancel on her now, you can just kiss a reconciliation with her goodbye.”

  Russell hesitated, plainly torn by the choice before him. At last he said, “You’re right. Besides, you’ve got a VCR, so I can tape the show.”

  Drew breathed a silent sigh of relief. He never thought he’d have to talk Russell into this date. “Whatever. Now forget about the television show. I need you to help out a little here.”

  Russell
swallowed his cereal. “Gee, Drew, I’m not much of a cook, although I’m pretty good with a campfire. If you’ve got enough firewood and some hot dogs, I can try to start a blaze in the backyard.”

  Drew put down his bagel. Russell was missing the importance of this dinner. “This isn’t a hot dog date. Rachel deserves only the best. This is the moment you’ve been waiting for, Russ. A romantic dinner for two so you can let her know exactly how you feel.”