Bond Street Blues

Nida_Shaaz · #1 (**permalink**) 14-03-2008, 11:16 AM

A short story of unrequited love...
As she stepped out of the taxi on Bond Street, Isobel glanced towards Barclay Square and winced. Every time she saw that beautiful, tree-filled place, she thought of the years lost, the love long gone and how everything that had happened in her past had formulated what was now her present. She gave the driver the fare, and briskly walked to the florist shop where she worked. Spring was definitely in the air, she mused, as she opened the door of Blakemore's.

"Good morning!" she said cheerily, belying the real state of her mind, which was, this morning, filled with unhappy memories.

"Good morning back to you," answered her boss Alan, busily arranging a delicate Japanese bouquet. "When you've put on your apron, would you hold this box open for me? Thanks, love." Isobel did as he asked, carefully closing the box after stuffing it with delicate white tissue to protect the precious contents.

"Who's this going to?" she asked as she prepared the wrapping. "It's rather grand, isn't it?"

"Yes, it's from the Duke of Marlborough for his wife's 60th,"answered Alan, preoccupied with bandaging his finger. He was always getting poked or cut while arranging the flowers, and invariably had at least three or four plasters on his fingers.

"60? I can't believe it, she looks great. For her age, I mean," Isobel added. People said that she looked great for her age, too; at 43 she looked a good ten years younger and knew it, but felt her real age every morning. Since her divorce six months before, and her complete life-style change, Isobel realized that she had only one option: to work again after years of living the life of a lady of leisure. Her ex-husband, a high-roller in the City, had gambled their savings away, then left her high and dry. He escaped to somewhere on the Continent. Even though Interpol had succeeded in finding him to bring him back for the lawsuit brought against him, he never actually appeared in court. The divorce went through but there was only enough left to pay for the proceedings. Knowing when she was licked, Isobel moved to a small flat in Manchester Square and applied for the job of florist's assistant. She always said a prayer of thanks that they didn't have children, although she had desperately wanted at least one before she grew too old.

While she was deep in her thoughts, the door opened and in walked a very distinguished gentleman. He was tall and dark, very well turned out, very handsome and very ***y. Isobel was nonplussed for a moment before asking if he was looking for anything in particular.

"No, not really. I saw you come in here and wanted to know who you are," replied the mysterious man.

Isobel's heart skipped a beat. NO! This couldn't be happening to me! I don't want this!! I don't need this now!!! These thoughts spun around in her head until she finally blurted out, "I'm sorry---- I hate to say this, but that's a new line." As she said this, she suddenly felt churlish and undignified, not what she wanted to come across to this obviously affluent and worldly man.

"I'm sorry, too. I didn't mean to startle you, but you are so beautiful, I just had to meet you, Miss---?" He waited until Isobel introduced herself.

"My name is Isobel Sebastian, I'm 43 years old and have been divorced for six months. I have no children, and I've worked here for three months. There, now you know everything about me!" She turned around and grabbed the broom and dustpan to sweep up some rose thorns.

The gentleman burst out in laughter. "HO HO HO HO!!! Isn't that taking honesty a little too far?" he said with a slight grin. "I didn't ask you for your personal history and the tragedy of your life, just your name." At the sound of his mirth, Alan stepped into the showroom, a quizzical look on his face.

"Lord Baltimore, how nice to see you again!" oozed Alan, who insisted on ingratiating himself with every duke, earl, lord, and viscount up and down the length of Britain.

"Mr. Goode, how are you? Obviously flourishing by the looks of it." He spread his expansive arms to envelope the empirical display of flowers, bonsai and other botanical wonders.

"Can't complain, life's great at the moment," answered Alan, removing his apron. "Can we help you with something?"

"Oh, your assistant Miss Sebastian is taking care of me. Thank you, "replied Lord Baltimore. Isobel stared helplessly at Alan, but he had already gone back to tend to a delivery at the back of the shop.

Isobel crumpled the piece of paper she had been holding, and threw it into a nearby waste bin.

"Please, Miss Sebastian, I didn't mean to embarrass you. It's just that you caught my eye. There aren't too many beautiful women walking around London these days," stated Lord Baltimore, languidly lighting up a cigarette.

"Oh, I'm sorry Lord Baltimore, but smoking isn't allowed in here---flowers, you know," warned Isobel.

"Sorry about that, just a bad habit I'm trying to break," replied Lord Baltimore. "By the way, my first name is James. And I would like to invite you to dinner tonight. Are you free?"

Isobel was taken aback by this invitation and looked around the room for help before answering: "Well . . . seeing that you know Alan, and vice versa, I suppose it's all right, as long as I meet you at the restaurant. I never go out with strangers as a rule."

"Of course, that's fine. Shall we meet at 8:00 at The Ritz? We'll have drinks first in the lobby bar. I'll book a table," offered Lord Baltimore, and whipped out his mobile phone, phoned the Ritz. That done, he said good-bye and left Isobel staring at the door. Did what just happened really happen or was she having a dream? she asked herself. Alan, whistling in the back room, came back out to see Isobel deep in thought.

"You all right, love? You seem far away. Did Lord Baltimore frighten you?" Alan teased her incessantly.

"No, he didn't frighten me, he asked me out to dinner tonight," said Isobel.

"Did you accept?" asked Alan.

"Y-yes, I did. You two seem to know each other, so I thought it was all right. After all, I have been divorced long enough and haven't been out anywhere for ages. It will be wonderful to be treated to a nice dinner for a change instead of eating some Marks and Spencer microwave meal," explained Isobel, tidying up stray bits of ribbon and cut leaves.

"Oh dear, I hope I don't lose you to Lord Baltimore. I can see it now: Society Wedding Weekly: Lord Baltimore Marries Beautiful Unknown Shop Girl." Alan was being particularly clever this morning.

"Oh, do be quiet, Alan! " quipped Isobel. "He's not going to marry me, he just wants dinner! Honestly, do you think I'm 16?"

That afternoon, Alan let her leave early, knowing how women need time to get ready for a special evening out, especially a first date. She decided to wear her favorite little black dress she picked up at Selfridge's last October, and topped it with a lightweight short black wool coat. Ready to go into battle, she left the flat and hailed a taxi.

To her dismay, Isobel arrived to the Ritz exactly 8:00, and not wishing to look too eager, proceeded straight to the ladies room to check her make-up and hair. It occurred to her that she was having dinner with probably the most eligible bachelor in the country and this realization made her suddenly panic. What if he didn't like her? Found her boring? What if she became tongue-tied? All was fine in the comfort and familiar surroundings of the florist's, but now she was faced with the stark reality of being in a very intimate setting in one of the most intimate restaurants. Oh well, thought Isobel, here goes, and out she walked into the lobby and saw Lord Baltimore already ensconced at a small table.

"I was wondering how long it would take you to come out of the ladies' room. I saw you come in, and decided that you needed a few moments to gather yourself together," said Lord Baltimore, with a twinkle in his eyes. This assumption of her general state of mind infuriated Isobel, and her eyes flashed for a moment, then common sense took over, and she calmed herself down.

"Yes, I'm afraid you are right. Good evening, Lord Baltimore," said Isobel, blushing profusely. She was about to shrug off her coat, when he swiftly came around to do it.

"Please, sit down, Miss Sebastian. And do please call me James." Suave and sophisticated, he never missed a beat. Isobel dutifully sat down across from him and picked up the drinks menu. A waiter was hovering nearby, anxious not to intrude on this couple before they had decided what to order. Both Isobel and James put their menus down at the same time, which caused them both to laugh. The ice broken, James asked her what she would like to drink.

"I think I'll have a Bellini. I haven't had one of those in ages," answered Isobel. James chose a scotch on the rocks, and ordered their drinks.

"So, tell me, Isobel-- if I may?-- what is a simply gorgeous woman like you doing hiding away in a florist's? I'm sure with your looks, you should be modeling somewhere." His words surprised Isobel and she choked a little on her drink.

"Oh, well . . . after my divorce, I had to do something that kept me busy. You see, I did go to university and trained as a legal assistant, did that for a while, and then I married a rather well-off but irresponsible man. I could have gone back to legal assistant, but the 9 - 5 life just doesn't suit me. When I applied for the job with Alan, I knew I had found something that suited my schedule and life-style. My hours are flexible and Alan is ever so nice. He also pays well, but I do work very hard for my supper." This last little sentence was said with a wry smile, giving Isobel the opportunity to take a sip of her drink.

Lord Baltimore listened to this soliloquy with rapt attention, all the more difficult because Isobel had the most beautiful dark olive eyes. He was transfixed by their translucent quality and the whiteness of her eyes. Not only was she beautiful, but he could tell she possessed an intelligence and sereneness that probably stemmed from her life experiences. He wanted badly to know this woman much much better than just small talk over drinks. Certain that she also was talented in other areas, he pursued his course with ease and purpose.

"Shall we go to our table?" he asked. He pulled out Isobel's chair with aplomb and an experienced hand. Isobel was aware that this man had been around, and she knew that she was at a disadvantage. She felt like a country bumpkin next to his city slickness. It had been a long time since any man had treated her like a woman, and tonight she was determined not to ruin things by rushing and gushing. She knew she looked great tonight but wanted to also charm this man with her wit. She suspected that he didn't suffer fools gladly and although she knew she wasn't a fool, she also knew that this man was used to getting his way in all things.

Their table was against the wall by the windows. Isobel looked up and sighed as she viewed the friezes of angels, clouds and other celestial beings gracing the ceiling. She thought this was the most beautiful restaurant she had ever seen. James followed her gaze.

"Is this your first time here?" he asked.

"No, it isn't, but it's been years since I've been here. My father took us here a long time ago when I was about ten years old. It was a very special dinner." Isobel eyes took on a far-away look, as she was looking into her past and remembering that evening, so many years ago. The arrival of the waiter broke her reverie, and he handed her a menu first, then gave one to James.

"Good evening, Lord Baltimore. I hope you are well?" asked the waiter.

"Good evening, Gerrold. I'm fine, thank you. Can you give us a few minutes to decide?" asked James as the waiter placed their serviettes on their laps.

"Of course, Lord Baltimore. I'll be back in a short while," said the waiter. "By the way, our special starter tonight is mini pizzas with Romano cheese and dried black olives."

Isobel always knew what she wanted and decided quickly on her choice: Cream of watercress soup, followed by tiny lamb chops, boiled baby potatoes and French beans with almonds. Lord Baltimore chose the mini pizzas, followed by Dover sole and rice pilaf. Gerrold the waiter returned and took their orders in his crisp manner.

"I'm impressed with how short it took you to decide what you wanted. I'm afraid in my experience, women seem to take years to decide, then they invariably change their minds at least five times!" Lord Baltimore chuckled after saying that, hoping he didn't offend Isobel.

"I've always known what I wanted, but some of my choices haven't been so great." Isobel was thinking of her ex-husband. She thought she wanted him and hadn't wavered from her choice, but then sadly discovered his secret vice for gambling. "Choosing something to eat is easier than choosing someone to share your life with."

"My, aren't we getting intimate! Not that I mind, but you are very different from the women I have dated in the past. Most of them wouldn't even expose their thoughts even after several dates, and you have told me in one fell swoop that you made a poor choice of husband," James said, hoping to open up Isobel even more.

"I'm sorry, James--- that just slipped out. I suppose I am still hurting from my disastrous marriage. Shall we change the subject?" offered Isobel.

"Of course, of course; have you seen the latest play to hit London? I believe it's called ' I Spy With My Little Eye'. It's supposed to be very very good; would you like to go one evening?" asked Lord Baltimore.

"I'd love to. I used to go to plays and musicals all the time. It would be wonderful, thank you." And with that, Isobel daintily took up a spoonful of her soup. James popped a whole mini pizza into his mouth, washing it down with the excellent Rose D'Anjou he had chosen. The dinner was going superbly, he thought; he mustn't let this woman slip away from him. There was something mysterious and utterly charming about her, a certain sadness that he would like to blot out of her life. He had never felt so strongly before about any woman, and perhaps Isobel Sebastian could be the one he had been searching for.

The dinner passed by very nicely, followed by coffee and chocolate dessert mints. Isobel felt quite replete and refused the offer of a digestive. Lord Baltimore paid the bill and they walked out together into the early Spring night. Isobel wondered if the night was over and hesitated at the door of the Ritz.

"What is it, Isobel? "asked Lord Baltimore as he stood beside her.

"Oh, it's just that it's become quite cold during dinner," Isobel lied. What could she say? Please don't send me home yet?

"Well, I thought we'd take my car around to my place, if you'd like. Don't worry--- we won't be alone, all the staff are there this weekend. Usually I spend the Winter months at my ancestral home in the Cotswolds, but this year decided to do the London scene. Well?" Lord Baltimore waited for Isobel to make up her mind. She couldn't resist this invitation and felt safe enough since the butler and presumed maids and other household helpers would be there.

"All right, James. That would be lovely," she finally replied.

A beautiful Rolls Royce Silver Shadow pulled up to the kerb, the driver got out and and opened the door for James and Isobel.

"Hello, Charles. Please take us to the flat," ordered Lord Baltimore.

"Hello, Lord Baltimore. Yes, right away. It's much colder now than this afternoon, so shall I use the heat?" answered the chauffeur Charles.

"Oh by all means, Charles. By the way, this is Miss Sebastian," offered Lord Baltimore.

"Good evening, Ma'am. I hope you enjoyed your dinner?" Charles had a definite twinkle in his eye when he asked that question.

"Yes, yes, it was lovely," answered Isobel shyly.

The drive to the flat took about twenty minutes. It was on Cheyne Walk, right in the heart of Chelsea. The two passengers alighted from the car, and James opened the door for Isobel. She was entranced by the raised dais of the entranceway, all mosaic tiles in a medieval theme. James rang the bell of a ground floor flat and the door was swiftly opened to reveal a very short butler.

"Good evening, sir. Good evening, Ma'am," said Henry. "Would you like drinks?" he offered.

James looked enquiringly of Isobel, and she relented by asking for a Cointreau. He had the same.

"Please, have a seat," asked James. He swept his arms around the vast room, and opened a huge window overlooking the Embankment.

"What a wonderful room!" exclaimed Isobel. "So many antiques! Why, this is an Adams fireplace!"

"Oh, you know something about antiques?" asked James. They stepped close to the balcony and James opened the French doors.

"Just a little, from my Uncle William. He was an antiques dealer in Devon. He passed away and left his shop to his only son, my cousin Ronald. I'm afraid Ronald and I don't get along and I've never returned to Devon or the shop." Isobel had that far-away look in her eyes again, and Lord Baltimore was determined more than ever to get to the source of her unhappiness.

James lit a cigarette and blew a stream of smoke out the open window. "I suppose I should tell you a little about me. I was married for many years, but my wife and I divorced some years ago. She went back to France, and took our two children, Alain and Sophie. They're grown-up now, Alain is 21 and Sophie is 25. I usually see them about six or seven times a year, but since I am involved in my estate in the Cotswolds, they often come here. I tried not to miss too much of their childhood, but, well, you know the plight of divorced parents!" They both moved onto the balcony. He stubbed the cigarette out in an ashtray and continued to look at the Thames, glistening beneath them with that special light only London could produce.

Isobel was taken aback by this admission and took a sip of her drink before speaking.

"You already know about me, well, a little bit anyway. I was married, too, but no children. I would like to have one or two some day . . ."Her voice trailed off as she realized that James was not listening to her, but was still contemplating something in his past. She too looked at the river. "Isn't the Thames the most beautiful river in the world?" she asked, changing the subject and hopefully, the mood.

" Oh---yes, yes it is. Sorry, I was miles away. I love London, but one does get tired of all the noise and pollution. That's why I still keep my home in the country. I couldn't live in London year round, it would drive me mad. Let's go in, it's too cold out here." James steered her inside and closed the balcony doors. Henry asked if they wanted another drink, and they both refused.

"James, I think I'd better go home now. It's getting late and I have an appointment in the morning." Now why did she say that? It was an out and out lie, but she felt it was time to leave.

"Of course, Isobel. Look, we've hardly touched on all the other subjects in the universe, so can we continue our conversation sometime, like tomorrow evening? This time I promise to pay more attention!" There was that special Lord Baltimore twinkle in the eyes, something between teasing and smoldering. "I'm sorry to be so preoccupied, but it's been a long week."

"I'd love to, James. Thank you for a lovely evening." Before she could phone for a taxi, James had called his chauffeur to take Isobel home.

"Oh, no, that's too much trouble!" exclaimed Isobel.

"Nonsense, it's the least I can do," replied James. He went out with her, but just as she was about to climb into the Rolls, he kissed her cheek, just brushing against it. It was the most intimate type of kiss and a promise of more to come. Isobel's heart raced as she primly sat in the back seat and Henry closed the door.

"Oh, by the way, what is your phone number? I can hardly tell you what time to be ready if I can't get hold of you! "laughed Lord Baltimore. Isobel dutifully told him her number, which he punched into his mobile phone.

"'Til tomorrow, then."
"'Til tomorrow. Good night." And with that, the car rolled away down Cheyne Walk, into the night.

That evening as Isobel removed her make-up, she wondered if she had done something wrong? Not that she was really complaining . . . she was actually relieved that James hadn't tried to give her a passionate kiss on their first date. That would mean only one thing: that all he wanted was to bed her. That just wouldn't do, she decided. She wasn't the type of woman who had *** on a first date. Or second or third for that matter. She wasn't a prude but she did consider herself a more discerning person than the usual women she met occasionally at the health club, the ones who were always bragging about their latest ***ual conquest, much like men used to do a hundred years ago. As she climbed into bed, she realized that she really, really liked him and wanted to get to know him better. She quickly fell asleep, with a little smile on her face. If she was lucky, she might dream about James.

The next morning, Lord Baltimore phoned her up, asked for her address, and asked if she could be ready by 7:00, as he wanted to have time to drive to their destination, a little restaurant west of London, towards Bristol. It was chic and exclusive, and he knew the owner. The food was superb and the wine only vintage. It was pricey, but well worth it, thought James, as he drove his Jaguar through the London traffic. Tonight he decided not to use Henry as he wanted to be totally alone with Isobel. He wanted to get to know this mysterious woman much much better, and felt that she was not the type who jumped into bed with men, unless she knew them very well. He was prepared to open up to her as much as he could tonight, so she could see that he was serious. She was the first woman in years that he felt had a mental connection with him. He only hoped that the physical connection was just as good. .

Isobel was putting the finishing touches on her make-up and hair when the doorbell rang.

"One moment, please," she yelled through the door of the flat. "I'm just grabbing my keys." Isobel checked herself once more in the mirror, then opened the door. James stood there for just a moment, taking in the vision of beauty before him. Her hair gleamed, her skin glowed, her face was stunningly beautiful. She was wearing a short emerald green dress, that matched her eyes.

"Hello, Isobel. You look lovely," said James. "Are you ready? I think we'd better get going as we have a bit of a drive ahead."

"Of course, let's go then," replied Isobel. She was surprised as James led her to his Jaguar and opened the passenger door.

"What, no Henry tonight?" asked Isobel. James shook his head in answer. "What a lovely car!" exclaimed Isobel. She couldn't resist saying that, hoping she didn't sound like a teenager.

"Yes, it is rather grand, isn't it? I thought Henry needed the evening off," said James with a wry smile. "Don't worry, I don't bite," he added with a devilish grin.

"Oh--- I--" stuttered Isobel.

"Never mind, you'll relax soon enough," said James. They were soon out of London and on the M4. Isobel could hardly relax, though, because she felt that James drove a bit faster than she would like, but he wasn't speeding. She supposed it was just the car fooling her. They made small talk on the journey, and half an hour later they pulled into the car park of the restaurant in the little village. It was one of those idyllic places that one could only find in rural England. The restaurant was a listed building, dating from the 18th Century, definitely Georgian. As they entered the front door, they were met with an inglenook fireplace, with a bright fire burning in it.

"Good evening, Lord Baltimore. Bit chilly this evening, so we lit the fire," explained the waiter.

"Good evening, Michael. I booked a table for 8:00, so can we have a drink at the bar?"

"Of course, Lord Baltimore, we have a nice table for you over here," said Michael, and led the couple to a small cozy table in the vast bar area. He took their drinks orders and disappeared behind a wall.

"This is lovely, James. Wherever did you find this place?" asked Isobel, as she looked around the room.

"Oh, I've been coming here for years. My parents used to take us here when we were teenagers, that is, when we were old enough to behave and have a drink or two!" James pulled out his mobile phone, looked at it for a moment, then turned it off. "I hate interruptions when I have important business," he said pointedly to Isobel. She blushed in turn and looked away. Could this really be happening? She felt she was falling in love with this stranger, but it was too fast, too soon. She didn't even know him. Perhaps she shouldn't have agreed to go out with him again so quickly? But it was too late for recriminations. She was here and wanted to be here. She was ready and ripe for romance and more, and knew that she was not getting younger.

Dinner was superb, the conversation light and amiable. James regaled Isobel with stories from his very exclusive childhood, adding now and then an amusing anecdote about his childish pranks. He said he was the naughty one of his siblings, always playing tricks on them. Nothing really harmful, only annoying. Growing up in the stately home in the Cotswolds gave the children loads of freedom to wander about the estate all year round, except when they were at boarding school. James hated it, but put up with it to please his father, who had gone to the same school when he was young. Excelling in maths, he went on to business management, assuming that one day he would be in control of the estate. He was right; his father had died suddenly of a heart attack and the entire estate was handed over to James. His mother felt that she didn't know enough about running such a huge estate and was relieved when James accepted the role of the new Lord Baltimore. They had, so far, avoided the trap that many owners of stately homes had fallen into, that is, opening it up to the public. Fortunately they didn't need the extra financial boost as many others did in order to survive the Britain of the 21st Century.

Isobel listened intently as James rattled on; she was relieved that she didn't have to talk much tonight. Her childhood was dull and unexciting, her *****hood mediocre, and her marriage a failure, nothing to show for it, not even children or a home. The last bite of the excellent steak taken, Isobel could eat no more. She didn't eat much red meat as a rule and found the steak almost too much for one meal.

"Now," said James, "let's talk about you for a while." James was about to light up a cigarette but suddenly remembered that it was no longer allowed. He pushed his chair out a little from the table and took another sip of wine, looking straight at Isobel, waiting.

"Well . . . . there's not much to tell, really. I'm an only child and was brought up in Ashford, Kent, then went to a polytechnic for a while. Then I wanted to be a legal secretary, so took that up for a while. I imagined that working for a solicitor would be exciting, but I was so wrong. It was so boring and uneventful, and then I met my husband, who was actually one of the clients of my boss. I suppose in retrospect, I shouldn't even have gone out with him, but he sort of bowled me over and we ended up getting married. He coaxed me to quit my job because he said I didn't have to work anymore. I believed him. He was dynamic and exciting, all the things that I missed in my life. I thought he was the kind of man that would make a nice balance to my calm and "safe" personality. But I was wrong. Eventually I found out that he was gambling away our savings, and one day he just walked out. Gone. Left me with all the bills to pay, so I had to sell the house and find a job--fast. I hadn't been working for ages and found the job with Alan quite by chance. And that brings us up to date," finished Isobel, carefully folding her serviette and putting it back on the table.

"I think you left out some very important details, but I'll let you get away with it for the time being," remarked James with that twinkle in his eyes. He asked for the bill, paid and they got up to leave.

"We'd better get going, the drive back may take some time. I believe there are some repairs on the M4 heading back into London," James offered. They thanked the owner and left out into the chilly early Spring night. James got the car and helped Isobel into the passenger seat.

He started the engine, and the Jaguar smoothly made its way out of the car park, onto the feeder road to the motorway.

"Thank you, James. That was really lovely," said Isobel.

"It's my pleasure, Isobel. By the way, now that we know each other a little better, I would like to invite you to spend the weekend at my estate in the Cotswolds." There, he said it. He was looking straight ahead, but turned to look at Isobel to see her reaction to this.
"I-- uh---I'm not sure, James. I mean, I really like you a lot and we seem to get along very well, but don't you think it's a bit soon? Isobel was nonplussed and couldn't think straight.

"No, I don't think it's a bit soon, Isobel. I think both of us have been waiting for something special like this for a long time. We've both had a bad time of it and deserve some happiness now, not in a few more years. We aren't children, Isobel, we are two *****s. We aren't getting younger, either!" James glanced over at Isobel, who was deep in thought.

"I wish you'd say yes. My mother is living there still, and I'd like to introduce you to her. She's a real character." James negotiated the curves of the roads with the aplomb of an experienced driver. Isobel felt safe in his presence and couldn't think up an excuse not to spend a weekend at the estate. It was time to face facts: she liked him and it was fast turning into love, that was clear, but she was so afraid---so afraid of losing her heart to this man and then losing him. That she couldn't bear.

The time passed quicker than they thought and in no time they were back in London and at Isobel' s flat.

"Would you like to come in for drinks?" asked Isobel timidly.

"I'm afraid I can't, I have an early appointment tomorrow. But here's something in the meantime---" and he leaned over and kissed Isobel full on the mouth, a passionate and warm kiss, full of the promise of more to come.

"May I phone you tomorrow afternoon? I should be finished with my business by then," said James.

"Of course, I'll be home," Isobel answered. She did feel a little dejected that he wasn't coming in. James noticed the look on her face.

"Don't pout, little miss. I'll make this up to you very soon," said James, as he looked into her eyes. "You have the most beautiful emerald green eyes. You must be a witch, because you have bewitched me." He got out of the car, walked over to the passenger side, opened the door for Isobel. "Until tomorrow afternoon, then." He walked with her up to her door, then squeezed her hand and left. She unlocked the door and went inside, feeling a little confused. She supposed that he was a true gentleman, but wished he had come in for drinks. That could have led to the intimacy that she craved, but supposed that he was trying hard to be the gentleman that he was. Tossing off her coat and removing her shoes, she paddled into the kitchen, made a cup of tea, and took it into her bedroom. Exhausted by the evening's adventure and long drive, she promptly fell asleep.

The persistent ringing of the telephone brought Isobel in from the little back garden she shared with the other tenants. She had been enjoying looking at the tulips opening up to the Spring sunshine, and quickly run indoors to answer the phone. It was James.

"Hello, Isobel. You sound out of breath," said James.

"Hello, James. Yes, I was outdoors," explained Isobel. "I wasn't expecting to hear from you until this afternoon."

"Oh, I'm sorry! Were you very busy?" James asked.

"No, just admiring the Spring flowers in the garden," said Isobel.

"Listen, something has come up and I have to go to France. It's my ex-wife; I'm afraid that she's had an accident." James' face was grim as he told Isobel the sad news. "She had been driving somewhere in the Languedoc region and ran off the road. She's in hospital now. My eldest son telephoned me last night. I'm sorry, Isobel, our weekend escape will have to wait." James waited for Isobel's response.

"Oh, James, I am sorry, truly I am. Will she be all right?" Isobel was sorry, but she was also sorely disappointed about their postponed weekend together. She wanted to cry.

"I hope so. It's quite serious, several broken bones and a head injury. I'm leaving in a few minutes for Heathrow. I'll phone you when I return. 'Bye--- and take care." Isobel felt her heart sink. She had a bad feeling that she would never see him again. But wasn't that a silly thought?

"Good bye, James, I do hope all goes well." Isobel rang off first, not wishing to prolong the agony. As she contemplated her next move, the doorbell rang. It was a florist, but not the one where she worked. The delivery boy was holding the most enormous bouquet of pink roses, at least two dozen.

"Miss Sebastian? These are for you. Aren't they lovely? 'Bye now." As Isobel took the flowers in her hand, she spied the little note attached to the cellophane wrapping. She took them in and removed the little card. It read: "Dear Isobel, You are the most lovely thing that's ever happened to me. Please wait for me, I will return. Love, James." Isobel's eyes welled up with tears as she searched for a tissue. She slowly and deliberately removed the wrapping, re-cut the roses, filled a vase with water and put them in. Then she sat down and stared at the beautiful flowers, as if she were trying to see the future in them. Now that she found James she wasn't about to lose him. He had asked her to wait for him; she knew that she would wait a thousand years if she had to.