She left, and I approached my desk, staring at the flowers. Daisies, asters, Queen Anne’s lace, and bachelor’s buttons mingled with carnations, alstroemeria, baby’s breath, and tiny roses. Lacy grasses and a multitude of greens made it a stunning creation. The vase was beautiful, the mix of colors in the glazed porcelain setting off the flowers. A card was attached, and my hands shook as I stared at my name written in a bold, masculine script. I opened the envelope, reading the simple words.
Amy,
Regret is a small word for what I feel.
I’m sorry is inadequate.
A conversation is what I beg for.
Please.
Yours—Simon.
I touched a soft petal, stroking the velvety texture. All the flowers were my favorites I had listed at dinner. He had listened and remembered. Gone to a great deal of trouble to get them for me. It occurred to me that he had ordered them from the local florist, not a nearby town. Although Ella wasn’t a gossiper, I knew a few of her staff liked to talk among themselves. They would notice this unique arrangement and who sent it to me. It might start unwelcome chatter about us.
Except there was no us—was there?
I reread the card. Yours—Simon.
Was he mine? Did he want to be? Did I want to talk to him?
I rubbed my eyes. I did want to talk to him. To find out why. Have him explain to me what happened.
But was I ready for it? Was he?
I picked up my phone and sent him a text.
Simon,
Thank you for the flowers.
They are beautiful.
Busy at school with open house.
Perhaps a conversation can happen after it is done.
I had hardly set the phone down when it buzzed with a reply.
Amy,
Not as beautiful as you.
When you’re ready, if you’ll listen, I’d like to talk.
I’ll wait.
I smiled at his words, unsure how to reply, then decided it was best not to. I had to concentrate on the task at hand. Simon and his pretty flowers would have to take a back seat for the time being.
It was a busy, productive afternoon. I met some of the children who would be in my classroom, talked with their parents, sat with the little ones and did an easy craft so they would be excited to come back. I answered questions, soothed the nerves of a few parents and children alike, and thoroughly enjoyed the time I spent with them. My heart had raced when a familiar set of shoulders walked past my door, the deep cadence of Simon’s voice catching my ear as he led Mia toward her classroom. I should have known he’d be there. It was Mia’s first time attending this school, and he was very involved in her life.
He glanced over his shoulder, and for a second, our eyes locked. He said so much with one brief look that it stopped me, and I stared after him, feeling off-kilter. It took me a moment to find my voice again and carry on acting as if everything was normal.
The flowers on my desk were admired, most people thinking I had brought them in to brighten the room. The sender and the reason, I held close to my heart. I smiled at the compliments and never elaborated.
The afternoon wound down, the halls emptying and the building getting quiet. I tidied the classroom, putting away the craft supplies, smiling as I cleaned up glitter and markers, glue and paper bits. It was rare I allowed glitter in the classroom since it got everywhere, but today was a special day. I stood, ineffectually wiping down my skirt, when a soft knock made me look up.
Framed in my doorway was Simon. In front of him, Mia stood, small and sweet, smiling at me. Simon looked nervous, his anxiety showing as he gripped the edge of the doorframe and waited for me to speak. Our eyes locked, emotions flowing between us in a silent river of unspoken words. I stood, clearing my throat.
“Hello.”
Mia bounded in, happy and at ease. “Hi, Ms. McNeil!”
I crouched in front of her, meeting her eyes. “Hello, Mia. Did you enjoy your introduction to your classroom and the school?”
She bobbed her head. “It was terrific! I met some new kids, and we’re gonna be great friends—I just know it,” she enthused. “They never did this at my old school. It’s awesome.”
“I’m glad you had a good time.”
“I know where the lunchroom is and the bathroom. I won’t have to worry about it now.”
I nodded in agreement. Kids settled better if some of the unknown was removed. I liked the idea of the open house for the day.
Simon followed her in, standing behind her as she spoke. I rose to my feet. “Hello, Simon.”
“Amy,” he replied. “I hope your day was a good one?”
“Busy.”
“I see the glitter has been out.”
I grimaced. “Only for today. It gets everywhere.”
Mia giggled. “Daddy says he farts glitter when I use it.”
I felt my eyes widen, and a burst of laughter left my mouth. “Is that right?”
His eyes crinkled, joining me in my amusement. “I swallow enough of it. It does seem to settle everywhere—including the bottom of my coffee cup.”
“I see.”
For a moment, the room was silent, and Simon ran a hand through his hair, looking nervous and unsure.
“So, ah, Mia and I made dinner for tonight. Our specialty.”
“Lasagna!” Mia added.
I smiled. “How nice.”
“We, ah, we were wondering, since you were busy all day and everything, if you’d like to join us.”
“Join you?” I repeated, surprised.
“For supper,” Mia interjected, looking between us as if we were inept. “You had a date, and you liked Daddy and he liked you, so now you have to come for supper and see if we all like each other. I told Daddy he was silly—I already like you. You smile with your eyes.”
I tried not to laugh at Simon’s horror at Mia’s word vomit. The tips of his ears turned pink, and he looked more uncomfortable than earlier, which I didn’t think was possible.
“Mia,” he admonished. “That was private.”
She shrugged, not at all put out. “You said it, Daddy. And you never said it was a secret. I’m not a mind reader.”
This time, I did laugh. She was direct and honest. I liked the fact that Simon had talked to her about me. And maybe dinner with the two of them was a good idea. Then Simon and I could talk.
I bent down again. “That would be a big treat, Mia. I love lasagna.”
“Daddy and I make the best. I help with the layers, and he says I do a great job.” She smiled widely. “And we always have garlic bread. I love garlic bread,” she added in a low voice.
“Me too.”
She clapped her hands. “So, you’ll come?”
I straightened, meeting Simon’s eyes. He was watching us closely, waiting for my response.
“Yes.”
He visibly relaxed, his shoulders dropping, his smile easier. “Can we walk you out?”
I shook my head. “I have to tidy a bit more, and I want to stop home and drop off my flowers and change.” I smirked. “I wouldn’t want you farting glitter because of me.”
He chuckled. “We can help.”
Mia headed to the flowers, investigating them as I stepped closer. “People would see, Simon. Probably not a good idea. I’ll come once I’m finished and go home and change.”