Coffee in Common (7 page)

"A letter? You wrote a letter?"

"Well, I do have some skills in that area."

"What did you write?"

"None of your business."

Paul turned from the window to stare at his friend. "You know this may be your last chance."

He continued to stare until Rob relented.

"I basically told her I was an idiot, that I've been thinking about all the things I did wrong, or didn't do, or should have done, that I miss her a lot, and all the things I miss about her, and that I really hope she'll give me one more chance."

"That's it? Didn't you forget something important?"

"No, I didn't forget," Rob said with a pained expression. "I told her how much I love her and all that."

Paul nodded. "Good. I hope it works, I really do. I like you two together. You fit. So, when are you sending them?"

"I figured I'd call as soon as we get to work. There's a florist over on Newbury Street that opens at eight. I'll have them stop by the office first to show me the arrangement and so I can attach the CD and note."

"Very nice plan," Paul said, formulating one of his own.

"Come on, man. She's not coming. If we don't get our asses in gear, we'll be late for work."

Paul took a last peek at the sidewalk.

"Maybe she went in early or didn't want coffee today," Rob offered.

Paul sighed again, nodded, and followed his friend out the door.

As they crossed West Street on the way to the office, Rob asked, "So what's up with you and Jillian? Did she put a spell on you or something?"

"I think so. I don't know what it is. I mean I've only talked to her three times, but I feel like I've known her forever. Remember when you and Lisa first hooked up? Remember how you couldn't think or talk about anything else?

"Well…"

"Don't even try to deny it. Nobody could stand you for the first month."

"What do you mean?"

"Rob, it was bad enough that all you did at work was talk about how great she was, and that she was all you talked about on those suddenly rare occasions after work when you found time for your friends, but man, once you even brought her to the poker game. Even
she
thought you were nuts that time."

"No way. She…"

"She left after twenty minutes. Why the hell would she want to hang out with five guys drinking and playing cards? And then, after you spent fifteen minutes in the hall saying goodbye, you came back in and spent the next three hours telling us how much you missed her."

"Okay, okay, so what's your point?"

Paul came to an abrupt halt, grabbing his friend's arm. Turning to face him, with an almost forlorn look on his face, he said, "I think I have it worse than that."

10:10 AM

The eight foot square that defined Jillian's workspace at Metro Magazine was lined with file cabinets, bookcases, a drafting table, her desk, and a long table that held her computer and the other state-of-the-art electronics a graphic designer uses.

It was one of eighteen work, storage, and utility spaces that filled the cavernous graphic arts room, along with an office for the Design Manager, and a break room that doubled as a meeting room. Jillian's desk and computer were arranged to face away from the goings on, allowing her to focus on her work.

Her reputation for concentration was legendary in the workgroup, so it was no surprise she didn't hear the deliveryman call her name.

After the second call, several heads popped up and the occupant of the space nearest the door indicated where Jillian could be found. Half-a-dozen people, including Shandra and Marie, Jillian's closest work friends, followed him down the aisle.

"Jillian Marshall?"

"Yes?" She didn't look up from her computer screen.

He placed the vase in the center of her desk and held out a clipboard and pen. "Sign here please."

Jillian turned, saw the flowers, then the clipboard, then the deliveryman. "Those are for me?

"If you're Jillian Marshall they are. Sign on line two please."

Jillian took the clipboard, signed and asked, "Who are they from?"

"As if you didn't know, girl," said Shandra.

"There's a card." He plucked it from the holder and handed it to her as he retrieved the clipboard, said "Enjoy the flowers," and turned to leave.

The crowd in the aisle had grown to an even dozen, including her boss, Cathy, who had been lured from her office by the commotion. Comments and questions were coming to Jillian from all sides.

"Open the card."

"Nice flowers."

"No one ever sends me flowers like that."

"What's his name, Jill?"

Finally, Shandra said, "Come on girl. Don't keep us all in suspense. Open the card."

Jillian surveyed the expectant faces, then slid the card from the envelope, read it, and smiled, covering her mouth as she did so.

Marie couldn't stand the suspense. "Well what does it say?"

"I miss your voice," Jillian replied softly.

"That's all?" asked Shandra.

"That's enough. That's perfect."

Reaction among the crowd ranged from rolling eyes to shaking heads as everyone but Shandra and Marie dispersed.

"They're from coffee guy, right?" Marie asked.

Jillian nodded.

"I knew it. You saw him last night, didn't you? You two hooked up late and now he's sending you flowers. You're bad, girl."

Jillian tried to feign offense but was too happy to pull it off. "No. I swear. I was with Liz and Jenna until almost eleven. He called as they were leaving and we talked for about an hour. That's all."

Clearly, the two did not believe her.

"No man ever sent me flowers just for talking to him," Shandra said.

Implication filled Marie's accusing gaze. "Me neither. Just what kind of talking did you two do last night?"

"I told you. It was all completely innocent. Now go away, I have work to do."

Shandra and Marie flung skeptical looks at their friend before they retreated down the aisle, whispering and glancing back at Jillian, who had returned to her computer.

 She stared at the screen for a few seconds, then turned and reached for the flowers.

Callas. He sent me Calla lilies. How could he know?

She was all smiles and dreamy looks as she first studied the vase of creamy white flowers and then the card on which he'd written the note and his work number. She picked up the phone and dialed.

"Paul DiLorenzo."

"Thank you for the flowers, Paul. They're lovely."

"What?"

"Thank you for the flowers. They're lovely."

"Who is this?"

"Jerk," she said, laughing.

"I'm glad you liked them. I thought they might be a bit much since we've only talked a few times, but I really was missing your voice, especially since you didn't show up this morning. I thought the flowers might be a good way to get you to call."

"Show up?"

"At the coffee shop."

"Oh! It never occurred to me to tell you. It was Shandra's turn to get the coffee this morning. Three of us take turns. I hope you didn't wait too long."

"Nah, just long enough to almost be late for work.

"Poor guy."

"But it's okay now that I've heard your voice. Any thoughts on where we should go and what we should do tomorrow?"

"Well, I am partial to food. After that, surprise me."

"Surprise you, eh? Any limitations?"

"Nothing illegal."

"Shucks."

"Or immoral."

"Damn. You're killing all my good ideas."

Jillian laughed again. It was getting to be a habit whenever she talked to him.

"Poor baby. I guess you'll have to think a little harder."

"Now I like the sound of that."

"Bye Paul."

"How about lunch today?"

"Can't. I already have a date…" Jillian paused for a few seconds, grinning as she listened to the silence, "…with my boss and three other people from the department. The publisher wants to do a special issue next week and wants some design suggestions."

"Hmmm. I think I owe you one for that. Call me when you get home tonight?"

"It'll be very late. You might be sleeping."

"Doesn't matter. I can't think of a better way to wake up than to the sound of your voice."

10:25 AM

A happy Paul hung up the phone, grinned at Rob and said, "My flowers worked."

"I could tell." Rob was pleased for his friend, but anxious about his own delivery.

The florist's driver had stopped by forty-five minutes earlier to pick up the note and CD. It had cost him an extra forty dollars, twenty for the pick-up and twenty as a tip to the driver to ensure he placed everything right in Lisa's hands, but he didn't care. It would be worth every penny when the phone rang.

Rob stared at the pages on his desk, hoping nobody noticed he wasn't really doing anything.

Why did I put that song first? Maybe I should have put our song first? What if she doesn't like the mix…or doesn't get what I was trying to say…or doesn't even listen to it! Oh shit, what if she doesn't even read the letter! No, she'll read it. But will it work? Will she want me again? What am I going to do if she doesn't? Hell, what am I going to do if she does? I'll change…I'll have to change…I can do it…

"Earth to Rob." Tom upped the volume when Rob didn't answer.

"What? What's wrong?"

"That's what I'd like to know. Priya just asked you a question. Twice. What's wrong with you today?"

"I, ah…"

"He's waiting for a phone call," Paul said. "About the flowers from before."

"It must be pretty damned important for him to be that distracted," Tom said. "When is this call due?"

"We're not really sure. It's…"

Interrupting, Rob said, "Just tell them."

So he did. Paul explained about the break, about Rob's feelings about it, and about his last ditch effort to win her back.

"Geez, Rob," Tom said, "no offense, but you've always been such a player that it's hard to imagine you this hung up on one girl. I mean, I know you've been talking about her for months now, but I never figured…well…I never imagined you getting serious about anyone."

"You're not the only one," Rob lamented. "I hope this works. If it doesn't, I don't know what I'll do. I never realized how, ahh, hung up on her I was and if she doesn't…" He didn't finish the thought, not wanting to make real with words the thought of never seeing her again.

Priya stood and walked over to perch on the corner of Rob's desk. "Look, if a guy sent me what you sent to her, and I had any feelings for him at all, well, he'd be one lucky boy tonight."

Rob smiled. "So you think I have a chance?" He could see the compassion in her eyes.

"Rob, I can't predict what she'll do, but I can say she'd be a fool if she didn't give you another chance."

Paul and Tom voiced their agreement.

"Women are funny, Rob. We like to think we're always logical and reasonable, but the truth is we more often listen to our hearts than our heads when it comes to relationships. We want to know we're wanted, that we're appreciated."

She glanced over at Tom and Paul. "Are you two bozos paying attention? You're not likely to get this kind of lesson again anytime soon."

Turning back to Rob, she continued. "It sounds to me as if you've been taking her for granted. It's not enough to just be there, to go out, get laid, whatever. You have to let her know she's important, the most important person in your life. If you don't, eventually some other guy will.

"When was the last time you sent her flowers, or wrote her a note, or sent her a funny card. We love that stuff. It lets us know you're thinking of us, that you care about us enough to take the time to do something out of the ordinary.

"When was the last time you surprised her with a sexy negligee or a weekend on the Cape or at some pretty little Bed & Breakfast? How often did you give her a pat on the butt or a kiss on the top of her head or stroke her cheek as you were walking by her? Not often, I'll bet.

"Stuff like that lets us know you care. You guys seem to think love is all about grand gestures, expensive jewelry, fancy cars, and such.It's not. Sure, those things are nice, but love is really about the little things, the sweet little intimate things we do for each other. Anyone can plan a vacation or buy a necklace once in a while, but only someone who really cares about you does the little, everyday things.

"As for grand gestures, if you really want to show her how much you love her, next time she's sick or drinks too much, sit on the bathroom floor with her, hold her hair back, and comfort her as she pukes her guts out.
That
is real, true love."

Rob sat mute, stunned for the second time in two days.

Could Paul have been right yesterday? Do I really not know anything about women? Listening to her, it sure seems that way. Oh man, this is not good. What if I really did screw up the note or the CD?

"Maybe I should call her."

"No, give her time to call you. Give her time to read the note and listen to the CD, time to think about it all, to figure out what she's feeling. If she's really the kind of girl you and Paul have told us about, and she still has feelings for you, she'll call"

"And if she doesn't."

"Then you'll hurt for a while and move on, as I'm sure we've all done a time or two."

The men nodded, remembering those painful times in their past.

"I guess this means you won't be worth shit today, eh?" Tom asked.

Rob grunted. "I don't know. Give me something mindless to do, something that doesn't require any heavy thinking."

He smiled at Priya. "Thanks. Why is it that women always know the right thing to say?"

"We don't," she told him with a playful grin as she sashayed back to her desk. "It's just that anything sounds good when it comes from a hottie like me."

12:15 PM

The warm spring sun made Paul wish he were walking with Jillian instead of Rob. They were eating sausage sandwiches as they strolled along the sidewalk.

"Did you know Boston Common is the oldest public park in America?" Rob asked. "Dates back to 1634."