“And yours said not to overdo anything today, but to leave your mind open to meeting a potential mate at the workplace,” added Sheila.
Gabriel cleared his throat. “Um, how do you know what sign I am? Anyhow, what do we have planned for today?”
“You have a telephone conference at 9:00 a.m. with the New York firm and appointments on the hour after that until 4:00 p.m.” Sheila beamed.
“You left time for lunch?”
“Of course, sir. Do you want me to order in some Joe’s or Legal for lunch?”
“No, I’ll go out for lunch. I would like you to order some flowers, instant delivery. The biggest bouquet of purple ones you can get. Spare no expense. I’ll e-mail you the address and the message.” Gabriel remembered Sally’s favorite color. Her romantic side would love the flowers. He couldn’t go wrong.
“Purple? Okay,” said Sheila. She had trouble hiding her disappointment but answered a call. “Desk Job Consultants, how can I help you? Sure, would you please hold? Desk Job Consultants…”
Gabriel went to his office on the eleventh floor with a view overlooking the Common. He chucked his empty coffee cup and looked out the window. He had an hour before his meeting. He loved the view of the shiny golden dome of the State House that marked the hill, his home.
What would he say in the message to Sally? He needed to stop apologizing and let the flowers speak for themselves. He turned on his computer and e-mailed Sheila the same To/From tagline Sally had written in her signed copy of her book to him. Then, he added, “Lunch in China?” Gabe knew Sally would know where to go and what time to be there. He also gave Sheila the delivery address and hoped she wouldn’t turn into some scary stalker and try to contact Sally in a jealous fit of rage. Bitches could be crazy. Then he would have to fire Sheila, all one hundred pounds of her.
Fifteen minutes later, Sheila replied back that it was done. The girl was efficient, he could give her that. Why else did he hire her?
Then, after asking interviewees the same questions for years and weeding through dozens of misaligned and misspelled resumes to find the few that were proofread, Gabriel was tired and hungry. He went to the restroom, flossed his teeth, and made sure his hair was right. Then he went to Chinatown to get back his girl.
Chapter Six
A fit African-American male flower delivery carrier, Darius Arrington, was making great time with his deliveries. Gone were the days of the Big Dig. Hardly any traffic jams afflicted Beantown, surprising before a holiday weekend. Yet the tourists rode around in the Duck tours at full hilt.
Despite the very windy day, the cool breeze felt refreshing. However, too bad Darius did not notice the little card placed loosely on the flowers. It flew away as he rode full speed ahead up to Sally’s apartment on Garden.
Meanwhile, perhaps if Sally Rubino’s love life was as interesting as that of the characters she wrote about, Sally would not have eaten the whole pint of chocolate ice cream from DeLuca’s in one sitting while writing. Why did she continue to write about dashing dukes and handsome viscounts marrying reformed wallflowers? Perhaps it was because she still believed in chivalry. Someday, her prince would wake up, smell the roses, and save her from her misery. She wasn’t so sure, however, that Gabriel O’Brien would ever live up to the code.
Buzz! Was that her door again? Buzz! “Shit.” Sally hated interruptions when she was almost done with a Chapter.
She peeked out the blinds and saw a delivery bicycle. Again, she didn’t bother responding to the buzzer and just went to the main door. Darius held the enormous bouquet of purple flowers. “Sally Rubino? Apt. 1A?”
“Yes, that’s me.” Sally nodded.
“Special delivery. Please sign, here.” Sally signed Darius’s little electronic receipt device and accepted the flowers.
“Thank you so much,” she said, as Darius rode toward the Freedom Trail for another delivery.
Sally admired the gorgeous mix of purple tulips, orchids, lilies, and even daisies. What a sweet, aromatic fragrance. Sally looked for a card but found none. It must be from Gabe. He remembers how much I love purple. He really does still care.
She carefully put the giant bouquet on her tiny kitchen counter. She had no room for a kitchen table in her studio. Yet she had always wanted to live on the Hill, even if it meant she had to sacrifice and live in a small apartment. Her dresser and TV fit in her closet to give her more floor space. At least she had a tiny, separate bathroom with an itsy bitsy shower. She texted Kimmie.
SALLY: Gabe sent me flowers. No card.
KIMMIE: WTF?
SALLY: Should I forgive him?
KIMMIE: IDK
SALLY: K
KIMMIE: TTYL
SALLY: Bye
Sally shuffled through the top of her closet and picked out an outfit to wear for the Pops concert on Saturday. She chose a navy blue dress. She wanted to look as patriotic and eye-catching as possible, so she decided she would later go downtown and buy a red and white necklace and earring set.
Sally took out the old photo album of her and Gabriel she had stored away under her bed. Pictures showed them hanging out at the Black Rose and Cheers, ice skating on the Duck Pond, posing at her favorite magazine stand in Cambridge, and skiing in Vermont. Gabriel, a true jock, had taught her how to ice skate and to ski better. She used to hope they would get engaged and honeymoon back at their favorite lodge in Vermont.
She remembered how during their last time at the lodge Gabriel had made love to her on the big handcrafted bed made from knotty pine logs. It even had little stairs. Their excited sex sessions had broken the bed! Fortunately, Gabriel went to the hardware store early in the morning before checkout and bought hardware to fix the bed. He made the frame even stronger than before with a drill and some screws.
Chapter Seven
At noon, Gabriel O’Brien maneuvered his way past Downtown Crossing to Chinatown. He went to the restaurant that stayed open until 2:00 a.m. and served the best lo mein noodles around. Sally and he had spent their first date there. He arrived at their usual time of 12:15 p.m.
“What kind of food do you like?” he had asked Sally for their first date.
“Italian and Chinese,” Sally had replied.
“Well, I could take you to the North End for some fantastic panini or gnocchi, or we could go to Chinatown for lo mein.” She had chosen the latter. Gabriel had stared adoringly at the way she twirled her lo mein like Italian noodles, the way her full lips moved when she ate, talked, and smiled.
She had not been the typical girl he usually went after. Sally was wicked smart and classic. “You’d look good in a Volvo,” he had once told her. He had always dated sorority girls and cheerleaders. Yet when they met in their mutual public speaking class at Harvard their senior year, Gabriel had found Sally’s speeches mesmerizing to the point he would have little bite marks on his pens after class. He liked how Sally’s smarts inspired him to set more goals for himself.
Gabriel looked at his watch and realized time ticked away, but still no Sally appeared. He figured the T made her run late, so he ordered their usual meals. “Two house Lo Mein, a Coke, and water with lemon.”
He had been proud to introduce Sally to his parents. After all, she was beautiful and had graduated from Harvard, too. Before that, she had graduated at the top of her class with a perfect SAT score that helped finance her way to the prestigious school. All Gabriel’s years of education had been at Milton, an elite prep school whose graduating class fed into Harvard. His father, the architect and breadwinner, had invested in his only child’s education. Dad liked Sally in his way. He had sized her up and said, “She’s a good girl. She’s got child-bearing hips.”
Gabriel’s mother, on the other hand, had not liked Sally from the start. His mother had twisted her ruby lipstick into an awkward smile upon meeting Sally Rubino, a sweet and curly, dark-haired Italian girl who looked nothing like the girls Gabriel had previously dated. Sally had come from hippy parents who had met at Woodstock and rais
ed Sally in upstate New York. Sally had lived in trailer parks for most of her life but had had big dreams of attending Harvard and becoming a successful published author. Little did she know that Harvard had been looking for a girl like her, and so had Gabriel O’Brien.
“What are you thinking?” Gabriel’s mother had scolded him in the kitchen when Sally had gone to the bathroom upon her first visit. “I hope you are just friends, darling.” Later, after he had taken Sally home and returned, his mother had a few other choice words to add. “We raised you to marry up, not down. You know this can’t last. Why don’t you go out with one of the Rousseau or Reilinger girls?”
“Mom, will you stop? Sally is going to be somebody,” he had said in defense. He should have said that she already was somebody.
“I’m sure she will be a writer or whatever she said, but the fact of the matter is that we can’t take those chances. Tell him, Joe,” his mom had asked his father to intercede.
“These days, son, you need a varied portfolio. Good genes help, too.”
“Sally’s got great genes!” Gabriel had clarified.
“She’s a pretty girl in her own way,” his mother had admitted. “But you know that we spent our life’s savings putting you into Milton all those years and then Harvard. We expect you to return our investment by marrying well. You’ve got so many other young ladies to choose from.”
“Just make sure she’s old money and has a place in the Hamptons, right?” he had said to his mom, disgusted.
“Don’t disrespect your mother. Old money or new money, doesn’t matter. Just make sure you add to what we are building here, son.”
Gabriel had still dated Sally for two years, despite the disapproval of his parents. Out of obligation at family functions, he had been introduced to many eligible young women who would flirt with him much to the appeasement of his parents. His mom often nudged the women she thought would be most suited for him.
And Gabriel had slowly withdrawn yet at the same time become closer to Sally during the time they dated. He would feel guilty about their relationship but also want to stay with Sally.
Gabriel looked at the cold noodles and then at the clock on his phone. It was ten minutes until 1:00 p.m. and, for the first time in his life, he had been stood up.
Chapter Eight
Sally rode the escalator to the second floor of H&M. She was happy to have found a pair of blue star earrings and a red necklace. She now wanted to kill some time before heading back to her apartment.
“Sally?” a familiar voice asked as she turned around and saw Gabriel’s cousin smiling at her.
“Oh, hi, Dominick. How are you?”
“I’m well. About to buy these trousers. It’s good to see you.”
“Good to see you again, too.”
“Hey, I apologize about the other night.”
Sally shook her head. “There’s no need to apologize. Gabe was the one wasted. But he did send me flowers.” Sally smiled and noticed Dominick looking at her admiringly.
“Flowers? That’s great.” Dominick sounded surprised. Sally noticed Dominick staring intently at her.
“Can I buy you a cup of coffee, Sally?” Dominick offered as he stood in line with her.
“You don’t owe me anything,” said Sally. She didn’t know if it was a good idea to get coffee with Gabe’s cousin.
“Of course not. But you are keen on getting some coffee, right?” asked Dominick. “Let me guess. You like it with cream and sugar?”
Sally smiled. “How did you know?”
“Because you are sweet,” assessed Dominick. “We could head to Dunkin’ Donuts after this,” he joked. “What do you say?”
“Okay,” Sally agreed with hesitation. She was sure Gabriel wouldn’t mind if she talked to his cousin. Maybe she could find out more about Gabriel’s true intentions.
Dominick and Sally walked up Tremont Street to the Dunkin’ Donuts. Sally laughed at Dominick’s quirky sense of humor. “I find it fascinating how many of these Dunkin’ Donuts you Yanks have here. They should be proclaimed official land markers. If, say, someone lost his way, you tell him take a left at the first Dunkin’ Donuts and then a right at the next one.”
Sally smiled, surprised at how easy it was to talk to Dominick. It reminded her of the good days with Gabe.
“You like to dance, Sally?”
“I’m a horrible dancer,” she confessed.
“That doesn’t mean you don’t like dancing.” Dominick grinned.
They ordered coffee and doughnuts. Sally enjoyed Dominick’s positive energy and outlook on life. “Actually, my best friend Kimmie is a great dancer. She wants to meet you on Saturday at the July 4th Pops concert. You’ll love her.”
“Well. I’m sure she can’t be as great as you,” confirmed Dominick as he chugged his coffee. Dominick smiled at Sally as she habitually bit her bottom lip when she was nervous.
Sally shook her head. “All the guys love Kimmie. She is a lingerie model.”
“I see.” Dominick rubbed his chin. “You know, Sally, I could teach you to dance. We could do the tango or whatever you want to learn.”
Sally felt herself blush. “Two left feet here, sorry,” she admitted.
“Two right feet here. Meet me at the club tonight,” joked Dominick. Sally smiled. “What the hell was wrong with my cousin for letting you go?” muttered Dominick.
Sally’s eyes enlarged from Dominick’s question. “Excuse me?” She wasn’t sure if she had heard him correctly.
Dominick looked at his watch. “Come on, we have to get going or we will be late.”
“Late for what?” asked Sally, confused. She threw her empty cup into the trash can and followed Dominick out the door.
“Just trust me.” Dominick grabbed Sally’s hand and led her across the crosswalk to the Common. He found a bench and took out the plain donut he had not eaten. He broke it in half and gave it to Sally.
“We’re sharing a donut?” Sally was puzzled. She didn’t even like plain donuts. They had to be at least glazed or powdered.
“No, silly. We’re feeding the ducks. Here they come.” Dominick pointed at a row of little gray ducks waddling after their mother from the duck pond.
Sally smiled. She couldn’t remember the last time she had fed birds.
“Back in South Africa, there is this place in the safari I wish you could see. It’s a hut full of art, but it takes a while to get to after some rough terrain. The art is vibrant and colorful. Anyhow, on the way there, large buzzards and other animals wait to prey on you as food. So I take along some snacks to kind of throw the scent off myself, appease the beasts, if you will.”
Sally adored how Dominick carried on about South Africa with an innocent looking man-grin. Wait, did he just say, ‘I wish you could see…’? What the hell are you doing with Dominick? He is Gabe’s cousin and you are feeding birds with him. Sally snapped out of it and tore off pieces of her donut for the ducks. They pecked at the pieces with fervor.
“See how the mother lets her little ones eat first? She’ll pick up pieces and feed it back to her babies,” explained Dominick.
“That is so sweet,” gushed Sally. “I love animals. Kimmie wants to talk to you about the wild beasts in your country—”
“Why do you do that?” interrupted Dominick.
“Do what?” Sally furrowed her brows.
“Kimmie this and Kimmie that. What about you? I haven’t even met this Kimmie, but she is stealing the show.”
“Sorry. I didn’t realize I do that.” Sally wondered how they had gotten to a point in a conversation that he could already feel comfortable about criticizing her. But she kind of liked it. Dominick spoke his mind without holding back or putting on a façade. Sally looked at her phone clock. “Thanks for the coffee, Dominick. I’ve had a good time. I need to head to the library for some research today.”
“That sounds fantastic. What are you researching?”
“Various things like Victorian dress and vernacula
r for my writing,” explained Sally sheepishly. She knew she probably sounded like a complete dork.
“Hmm.” He peered at Sally curiously. “Gabe mentioned you write about rakes. So is it true? Do you write about him?” asked Dominick.
Sally gasped, taken aback by how direct Dominick could be, even with a smile.
“Pardon me?”
“You heard me, Sally.” Dominick smiled.
“Um, I guess some of my feelings do spill out onto the page when I create scenes between characters. My heroes have a few qualities that I have found in men from real life,” defended Sally.
“Especially love scenes?” Dominick questioned with devilish delight at Sally’s flushed cheeks.
“I’m not telling,” piped Sally.
“I will let you off the hook this time, Sally,” he offered.
“Dominick, I really should be going,” she said.
As he watched Sally get up to leave, Dominick took a deep breath.
“See you later, Dominick,” said Sally.
“Take care, Sally.” Dominick smiled. “I hope I see you sooner than later.”
Sally wanted to text Kimmie right then and there but decided not to let Dominick see her. He would probably quietly chide her for including Kimmie in everything again. Sally couldn’t help how close she was to her friend. They were more like sisters separated at birth and then reunited, now inseparable.
Chapter Nine
The blistering heat made the Pops concert even more intense as the horns blared in the air by the Charles River. The conductor’s sweat dripped as he shook to-and-fro and waved his little white baton with fervor. The players swayed as they played their instruments, and a large crowd of people soaked in the soaring notes.
Sally Rubino had spent an hour flat-ironing her hair that morning due to the extra humidity. Kimmie had used hair glue to stand her big bump in front followed by a ponytail behind. Together, they looked like a pair of contradictions, which sometimes made them even more interesting for onlookers.
Beacon Hill Beauties (Siren Publishing Allure) Page 3