Felix:Care to continue that process over supper?
Felix:I hear there’s a Caribbean feast.
There’s a long pause while she’s typing, then nothing. I worry I’m about to be rejected, until the phone vibrates again.
Hope:TBH, not sure I’m up for a whole luau vibe…
I’m glad we’re typing, so she can’t see my disappointment. But then she adds:
Hope:Would you want to hunker down and order room service instead?
Would I ever.
Felix:I’d be honored.
Felix:Why don’t you come over to mine so we’re not in Lauren’s hair?
Hope:Is soonish ok? I know you’re a European and probably prefer to dine at 10 p.m., but I’m beat.
Felix:Hate to tell you this but Brexit happened.
Hope:Oh, right, sorry for your loss.
Hope:How’s 7?
That’s in forty-five minutes.
Felix:Perfect. See you then xx.
I stand up. “I have to go,” I tell Mum. “I have a date.”
She smiles at me. “Have fun.”
I stand up to go. “Darling!” she calls to my back.
I turn around to see her holding up my work of accidental abstract expressionism.
“Don’t you want to give Hope your beautiful painting?”
I laugh. “I see where Prue and Pear get it from.”
Back in my room I dial the number for Crisanto.
“Good evening, Mr. Felix,” he says.
“Hi there. Can I ask a favor?”
“I’d be delighted to help.”
“I’ll be dining in my room tonight with a friend and I was wondering if there’s a way to track down some fresh flowers.”
“Certainly. Would you prefer roses or tulips?”
“Roses, please.”
“A wonderful choice. Would you like me to come prepare your table?”
“If you wouldn’t mind. Is it possible to set something up outside?”
