Shopaholic and Sister
Page 72
“From you?” Luke stares at me.
“Yes! I thought I’d like to send you some flowers. And… er… fruit. Here you are, darling! Happy Saturday!”
Somehow I manhandle the enormous bouquet and basket into Luke’s arms, then kiss him lightly on the cheek.
“Becky, I’m very touched,” he says, looking bewildered. “Really. But… why did you send me all this? Why did you send me a fruit basket?”
“Do I have to have a reason to send my husband a fruit basket?” I say at last, managing to sound a little hurt. “I just thought they could be a token of our marriage. You know, we’re coming up to our very first anniversary!”
“Right,” says Luke after a pause. “Well… thank you. That’s lovely.” He peers more closely at the bouquet. “What’s this?”
I follow his gaze only to see a set of gold plastic lettering nestled inside the flowers, spelling out Get Well Soon.
Shit.
“Get well soon?” Luke looks up, taken aback.
My mind races frantically.
“That… that… doesn’t mean get well soon,” I say with a laugh. “It’s… in code!”
“In code?”
“Yes! Every marriage needs a secret code between husband and wife! You know, for little loving secret messages. So I thought I’d introduce one!”
Luke has the same expression he had in Egypt when I said I thought we should take a couples’ belly-dancing class.
“So, what does ‘get well soon’ mean?” he inquires. “In our secret code.”
“It’s actually… er… very easy.” I clear my throat self-consciously. “Get means… I. And well means… love. And soon means…”
“You?” offers Luke.
“Yes!” I say. “You’re getting the idea! Isn’t it cunning?”
My hands are clenched by my sides. I have no idea what Luke is thinking.
“And the florist wouldn’t have sent the wrong package by mistake?” he suggests.
Oh.
Now, that’s a much better explanation. Why didn’t I think of that?
“You’ve rumbled me!” I exclaim. “Drat! How did you guess? You just know me too well. Now… er… go and have some nice breakfast and I’ll get ready for the supermarket.”
As I put on my makeup my mind is going round and round in circles.
What if Nathan Temple phones up to see how Luke is? What if he sends more flowers? What if he wants to come and visit Luke’s sickbed?
OK, just… stay calm. Let’s go through all the options.
Option 1. Tell Luke everything.
No. No way. Just the thought of it makes my stomach churn. He’s so busy with this Arcodas pitch. It’ll just get him all hassled and angry.
Option 2. Tell Luke something.
Like the edited highlights. Maybe tweaked in a way that leaves out the name Nathan Temple.
Oh God. Impossible.
Option 3. Manage situation in discreet Hillary-style manner.
But I tried that already and it didn’t work.
Anyway, I bet Hillary had help. What I need is a team, like in The West Wing. Then I’d just go up to Allison Janney and whisper, “We have a problem — but don’t let the president know.” And she’d murmur, “Don’t worry, we’ll contain it.” Then we’d exchange warm but tense smiles and walk into the Oval Office, where Luke would be promising a group of underprivileged kids that their playground would be saved. And his eyes would meet mine… and we’d flash back to the two of us waltzing in the White House corridors the night before, watched only by an impassive security guard—
The grinding motor of a dustbin truck outside brings me back to reality. Luke isn’t president. I’m not in The West Wing. And I still don’t know what to do.
Option 4. Do nothing.
This has a lot of obvious advantages. And the point is… do I actually need to do anything?
I reach for my lip liner and start applying it thoughtfully. I mean, all that has actually happened is that someone has sent Luke some flowers. That’s all.
Plus he wants Luke to work for him. And reckons he’s owed a favor.
And is a gangster.
No. Stop it. He’s not a gangster. He’s a… a businessman with a former criminal conviction. It’s totally different.
And anyway — anyway — he was probably just being polite in that note, wasn’t he? Like he’s really going to hold up an entire hotel launch so Luke can do it. What a ludicrous idea.
The more I think along these lines, the more reassured I feel. Nathan Temple can’t seriously be expecting Luke to work for him. He’ll have found some other PR company already. The whole thing will be under way and he’ll have forgotten all about Brandon Communications. Exactly. So I don’t have to do anything at all.
“Yes! I thought I’d like to send you some flowers. And… er… fruit. Here you are, darling! Happy Saturday!”
Somehow I manhandle the enormous bouquet and basket into Luke’s arms, then kiss him lightly on the cheek.
“Becky, I’m very touched,” he says, looking bewildered. “Really. But… why did you send me all this? Why did you send me a fruit basket?”
“Do I have to have a reason to send my husband a fruit basket?” I say at last, managing to sound a little hurt. “I just thought they could be a token of our marriage. You know, we’re coming up to our very first anniversary!”
“Right,” says Luke after a pause. “Well… thank you. That’s lovely.” He peers more closely at the bouquet. “What’s this?”
I follow his gaze only to see a set of gold plastic lettering nestled inside the flowers, spelling out Get Well Soon.
Shit.
“Get well soon?” Luke looks up, taken aback.
My mind races frantically.
“That… that… doesn’t mean get well soon,” I say with a laugh. “It’s… in code!”
“In code?”
“Yes! Every marriage needs a secret code between husband and wife! You know, for little loving secret messages. So I thought I’d introduce one!”
Luke has the same expression he had in Egypt when I said I thought we should take a couples’ belly-dancing class.
“So, what does ‘get well soon’ mean?” he inquires. “In our secret code.”
“It’s actually… er… very easy.” I clear my throat self-consciously. “Get means… I. And well means… love. And soon means…”
“You?” offers Luke.
“Yes!” I say. “You’re getting the idea! Isn’t it cunning?”
My hands are clenched by my sides. I have no idea what Luke is thinking.
“And the florist wouldn’t have sent the wrong package by mistake?” he suggests.
Oh.
Now, that’s a much better explanation. Why didn’t I think of that?
“You’ve rumbled me!” I exclaim. “Drat! How did you guess? You just know me too well. Now… er… go and have some nice breakfast and I’ll get ready for the supermarket.”
As I put on my makeup my mind is going round and round in circles.
What if Nathan Temple phones up to see how Luke is? What if he sends more flowers? What if he wants to come and visit Luke’s sickbed?
OK, just… stay calm. Let’s go through all the options.
Option 1. Tell Luke everything.
No. No way. Just the thought of it makes my stomach churn. He’s so busy with this Arcodas pitch. It’ll just get him all hassled and angry.
Option 2. Tell Luke something.
Like the edited highlights. Maybe tweaked in a way that leaves out the name Nathan Temple.
Oh God. Impossible.
Option 3. Manage situation in discreet Hillary-style manner.
But I tried that already and it didn’t work.
Anyway, I bet Hillary had help. What I need is a team, like in The West Wing. Then I’d just go up to Allison Janney and whisper, “We have a problem — but don’t let the president know.” And she’d murmur, “Don’t worry, we’ll contain it.” Then we’d exchange warm but tense smiles and walk into the Oval Office, where Luke would be promising a group of underprivileged kids that their playground would be saved. And his eyes would meet mine… and we’d flash back to the two of us waltzing in the White House corridors the night before, watched only by an impassive security guard—
The grinding motor of a dustbin truck outside brings me back to reality. Luke isn’t president. I’m not in The West Wing. And I still don’t know what to do.
Option 4. Do nothing.
This has a lot of obvious advantages. And the point is… do I actually need to do anything?
I reach for my lip liner and start applying it thoughtfully. I mean, all that has actually happened is that someone has sent Luke some flowers. That’s all.
Plus he wants Luke to work for him. And reckons he’s owed a favor.
And is a gangster.
No. Stop it. He’s not a gangster. He’s a… a businessman with a former criminal conviction. It’s totally different.
And anyway — anyway — he was probably just being polite in that note, wasn’t he? Like he’s really going to hold up an entire hotel launch so Luke can do it. What a ludicrous idea.
The more I think along these lines, the more reassured I feel. Nathan Temple can’t seriously be expecting Luke to work for him. He’ll have found some other PR company already. The whole thing will be under way and he’ll have forgotten all about Brandon Communications. Exactly. So I don’t have to do anything at all.
