Winter Hopes (Seasons of Love) (25 page)

“Oh.” Lydia looked at the children. “Okay, I'll be right there, thank you.”

“Sure thing,” Mrs. Garland replied.

“Okay guys,” Lydia said to the kids. “I'm going down to the office, I'll be back in two minutes. I know that I can trust you guys to finish reading and start answering your question sheets while I'm gone, right?”

“Right,” chorused the students.

“Great. Okay, be right back, then.” Lydia set her coffee on her desk and left the room, making her way down the hallway of Porter Elementary School as quickly as she could. She didn't like leaving students unattended in her classroom, but knew that nine-year-olds could handle it for a few short minutes.

She breezed into the main office and was hit by the sight of a huge bouquet of colorful, exquisitely arranged flowers that sat on Mrs. Garland's desk. “Wow!” she said. “Those are absolutely
gorgeous!”

“Well, I'm so glad you like them,” Mrs. Garland smiled.
“Because they just arrived for
you
.”

Lydia's eyes widened. “What? You're kidding.”

“Nope.” Mrs. Garland's smile turned into a teasing smirk.
“Guess
someone wants to make sure you're going to have a very happy
birthday today.”

Lydia stared at the bouquet of roses and gerbera daisies, in varying shades of purple and pink. The combination of colors was stunning. “Oh my God,” she laughed in astonishment. “Wow. Um, is there a card?”

“It's in there somewhere,” Mrs. Garland said. She had a slightly quizzical look on her face as she looked at Lydia.

Lydia could easily guess what the head secretary was thinking:
Isn't she divorced? Who would send her such a tremendous bouquet of flowers?
Lydia lightly pressed her lips together as she located a small card tucked in with the flora. She opened it and read:

Happy Birthday, Lydia. Hope this makes you smile.

Can't wait to see you tonight. Love, Sam

Lydia felt her cheeks flush slightly as she replaced the card in its tiny envelope. The smile that spread across her face felt too bright to be contained. She felt for the base of the bouquet and picked it up. It was actually quite heavy. “Thank you so much,” she said simply to Mrs. Garland, and left the office. She could barely see around the flowers, but managed to make it down the hallway, back into her classroom, and to her desk, where she carefully placed her gift.

“Woooow!” “Oooooh!” the students cried. “Look at that!” “Who sent you those?”

“It's my birthday,” she told the children. “This was an
unexpected surprise. Aren't they just beautiful?” She stood back to admire the arrangement once more. The bouquet was so big, she hoped she’d be
able to get them into her car without damaging any of them. Warmth flowed through her, and a deep sense of delight. She couldn't
remember ever receiving such gorgeous flowers in her life.

“Keep reading,” she told the students as she reached for her cell
phone. She quickly dialed Sam’s number as she went to the far
corner of the room, turning her back to the children.

“Sam Forrester,” came his voice.

“You are amazing,” she purred quietly.

“Aha,” he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. “You got them?”

“You didn't have to do that,” she said, trying to keep her voice low.

“But you're glad I did,” he teased.

She laughed. “Are you kidding? The flowers are beyond
beautiful, easily the prettiest ones I've ever gotten. That was so sweet, thank you so much.”

“You're very welcome. I wanted to surprise you. I'm glad you like them,” he said in a velvety tone. “Happy Birthday, sweetheart.”

She felt her insides warm at his tender words. “Thank you.”

“Listen,” he told her. “I’m answering a few emails, then I'm going straight to the airport. I should land at JFK around three-
thirty. So text me if you need to reach me from, say, eleven o'clock on.”

“Okay,” Lydia said, still trying to speak quietly. “Jane's holding Andy for me from after school on, like I told you. So I'll be home, all by my lonesome, just waiting for you to call and tell me you've landed and are on your way.”

“I like the sound of that,” he said, his tone turning slightly
wicked
as he added, “Will you be naked as you wait by your lonesome? That'd be a great mental image to get me through the rest of the day.”

She giggled. “I still don't understand why you won't let me pick you up at the airport.”

“I told you,” he said. “It's my first time setting foot on Long Island, I want to see the lay of the land. It gives you a little time to
unwind and relax when you get home from work, instead of having to rush to the airport to get me. Hey, I'm still thrilled you're even letting me come to your apartment, much less letting me stay there tonight—remind me to thank Jane when I meet her, I owe her one.”

“I will,” she whispered.

“Why are you so quiet?” he asked. “I feel like this chat is some sort of covert operation.”

“Because I'm in my classroom,” she murmured pointedly. “And I have five fourth-graders sitting here, trying to eavesdrop on my conversation. I just wanted to thank you for the flowers.”

Sam released a loud laugh. “I love it! Okay, I'll let you go, then. Have a great day, okay birthday girl?”

“I will. Have a safe flight. And thank you again.”

“My pleasure. See you soon.”

Lydia snapped her phone shut and turned around. Sure enough, the students were all watching her, with grins on their little faces.

“Who were you talking to?” one of the boys asked.

“None of your business,” Lydia said very sweetly. “Now get back to work.”

***

Lydia looked around and gave her apartment one final sweeping
inspection. Everything looked clean, nice, and presentable. She couldn't believe that she was nervous about Sam coming to her
apartment for the first time. But she wanted everything to be perfect. She wanted
him to like it, to like her taste—his being an artist, a visual artist, made her feel slightly unsettled by what he might think. She felt flustered, expectant, excited, giddy… she finally shook her head and
released a good, caustic laugh. “Get a grip!” she reprimanded herself aloud.

The buzzer from the lobby went off, and her heartbeat started to accelerate. She went to the wall and pressed the button that would unlock the main door in the lobby, then rushed to the bathroom. She checked her appearance in the mirror one last time. She grabbed a paper cup and took a sip of water, ran her fingers through her hair to
fix it again, and headed for the door. Just as she opened it and
looked down the hallway, the elevator door slid open and Sam came out, rolling a small black suitcase along behind him.

“Hey, handsome,” she said, so he'd know which way to go.

He turned her way, saw her, and instantly a wide, radiant smile lit his face. That smile was like pure sunshine to her, warm and bright. She couldn't help but smile back just as broadly as he approached.

“Hey,” he purred when he reached her. He took her face in his
hands and kissed her tenderly several times before releasing her. “Happy Birthday.”

“Thanks,” she smiled. “It's great to see you.”

“It's great to see you too.”

“You got here okay?”

“Yeah, everything was fine,” he said easily, caressing her cheek. “The car service was right there waiting for me, we didn't hit much traffic. I didn't realize you lived relatively close to JFK. I guess I expected a longer trip from the airport to here.”

Lydia glanced at her watch. It was only four-thirty. “Wow, yeah, you made good time.”

“Yes, I did.” Sam grinned and joked lightly, “Well, it's a nice building you've got here, but are you going to invite me in or what?”

“Oh!” Lydia laughed and flushed with embarrassment. “God, I'm sorry. Come in.” She grabbed his arm and pulled him through the doorway into her apartment. He pulled his suitcase in and closed the door behind him.

“Here, let me take your coat,” she said, helping him off with his
mid-length brown leather jacket. “Wow, this is gorgeous. And
heavy!” Her fingers brushed the thick shearling lining. “Mmm, soft.”

Sam grinned. “You approve?”

“Yes. You look sexy as hell in this coat.” She gave him a beguiling smile and a quick kiss before going to the closet to put it away.

Sam stretched his arms over his head and turned to survey the space before him. It was a little small, as she'd told him it was, but welcoming, comfortable, and pleasant. He looked around: hardwood floors, cream colored walls; framed pictures on the walls, both of art
and of Andy. A few feet from where he stood was a dark brown
tweed couch, adorned with a few dark brown throw pillows; an attractive area rug with varying shades of brown, beige, and tan; a television, an end table with a phone on it; and in the corner, a small wooden desk with a computer on it. Next to the desk was a blue bean
bag chair, and a thick purple wool blanket folded neatly on top of it.

Lydia had returned to his side, watching him in curious silence as he examined her apartment. “So?” she finally asked. “Is it at all like you pictured it?”

He grinned down at her. “I guess, pretty much. Only it's cozier. Definitely the benefit of a woman's touch.” He reached out to brush her hair away from her face, just wanting to feel the thick copper strands beneath his fingertips. “Give me the tour?”

“All thirty-eight seconds that it'll take?” she joked. “Sure.” She extended her arm. “Living room, as you can see. The bean bag is
Andy's, and it's usually here, in the middle of the floor, on the rug, so he can watch TV.”

“Open space, no coffee table,” Sam noted. “Not toddler friendly, I guess?”

“Good guess. But I don't have room for one in here anyway,” she shrugged. “It would take up the whole area, make it feel smaller in
here than it already is.” She made a sweeping gesture with her arm to the modest open space just beyond the living room. A small, round, light wood table and four chairs were arranged by the large
window. A booster seat was attached to one of the chairs. A sizeable colorful bouquet of flowers was centered on the table, brightening the whole room with its vibrant hues.

“That's the dining room, if you're generous enough to call it that,” Lydia said dryly. “And those are the stunning flowers you sent me. It was actually hard to fit that in my car to take them
home,” she added with a chuckle.

“They
are
nice.” Sam went to the bouquet to examine it more closely. “They did well. Lots of purple. Good. I'm satisfied.” He turned around and saw the tiny kitchen area. He pointed. “Kitchen,
obviously.”

“You figured that out all by yourself?” she teased.

“Yeah, I'm a rocket scientist in my spare time.” He smirked, went back to her, and took her hand. “It's a nice apartment, Lydia. Show me the rest.”

“Come on.” She led him by the hand down a short hallway. “Bathroom,” she said, pointing to the door on the left. She leaned
over and pushed open the door on the right. “This is Andy's room.”

Sam followed her inside. The room was tiny, but Lydia had made it cheerful. The walls were a soft shade of robin's egg blue, the thick carpet a dark royal blue. A tiny wooden toddler bed was up
against the wall in the far corner, covered with a blue and red Elmo bedspread. A few stuffed animals were on the bed, and a big blue plastic bin under the window was filled with toys, almost overflowing. A small wooden bookshelf in the other corner was fully stacked.

“It's very cute,” Sam smiled. “You made it a great room for him.”

Lydia smiled demurely, but was obviously touched. “Thanks. I
tried.”

“You succeeded.” Sam pulled her out of the room and headed
towards the room at the back of the hall. “Your room?”

“Yup.”

They went in together. The room was in shadows; being the middle of December, it was already almost dark outside. She turned on a lamp on her bedside table. The smaller light, as opposed to the brighter overhead light, gave the room a warm, intimate glow.

“This is definitely a woman's room,” he grinned, looking around.

“Well, of course it is. I didn't have to share it with anyone, so I could make it as feminine as I wanted to,” Lydia said plainly. “My colors, my tastes. Mine all mine.”

Sam took it all in: the lavender walls, the plush dark beige
carpet, the lavender and dark violet comforter and throw pillows on
the queen sized bed, the gauzy beige curtain that was delicately draped over the window. Next to the bed, on the right, was a small cherry wood end table, accommodating a phone and the small lamp. The
lamp
looked to be made of stained glass, a pleasant and pretty
combination
of many shades of purple. The light from within seemed to make the mosaic of glass pieces shimmer and glow. “Tiffany?” he asked, pointing to it.

“A fake one, yes,” she grinned. “But I love it.”

“I like it too. It's a nice accent to the room.” A small cherry wood dresser was opposite the bed, with several framed photographs resting on top of it. He went to examine the pictures more closely. There were several: one of her holding Andy when he was an infant;
one of her and Jane, sitting on a grassy hill and laughing; one of her and another dark haired woman he didn't recognize, smiling together at an elegantly set table; one of her with Andy when he was
a toddler, where
he looked to be about two years old; another of her with Andy, apparently taken fairly recently; and the shot of the whole family,
standing on Jane's porch on Halloween, that Sam had seen in an email.

“This is your sister, right?” he asked, pointing to Jane.

“Yes.”

“Same exact eyes as you, it's amazing. Who's this woman, then?” He pointed to the other picture.