My gaze shifts to the stairs over the cliffs leading to the beach. I haven’t walked that stretch of beach since the one time I walked it with Alan last spring.

I take a sip of my coffee. He’s probably having Christmas morning with Nia in New York. It’s probably snowing outside and they’re cuddled up in that big mahogany bed, with a fire roaring and the candles lit, and Alan being Alan in bed.

My eyes narrow and fix on a pelican skimming the water. Maybe Alan is stuck on the road somewhere. He’s been on an aggressive worldwide tour since last May, and it’s possible he’s not even with Nia. No, Chrissie, no. Be happy for him. That’s the voice of spite in your head.

“What kind of evil thoughts are you thinking, Chrissie? You used to have the same expression when you were little.”

I lift my chin to find Jack standing beside my chair. “No evil thoughts. Just daydreaming.”

Shaking his head, Jack sinks into the chaise beside me. “Nope, not buying it.”

I make a face at him.

He reaches out and takes my hand in his.

“Was Christmas too boring for you this year, just being you and me?”

I smile. “No way. It was great after the craziness of finals.”

“First semester at Cal go well?”

I shrug. “I survived. I’m pretty sure all Cs.”

“Well, Cs get degrees. Who cares what the grade is? It’s all about what you learn. The experience. The experience is as important as the education. Are you seeing anyone?”

That question makes me tense. This overly-inquisitive dad kind of thing still feels weird to me.

“Not really. I’ve sort of a guy I hang out with, but it’s not a dating thing. I don’t really know how to describe it. But I did get asked out by one of the graduate teaching assistants.”

Jack looks at me. “What does the sort of a guy do?”

I blush. Sort of a guy. Jeez, I phrase things so lamely at times. “He’s sort of a janitor in the music department.”

Jack laughs and closes his eyes. His entire face is alive with humor. “Date the janitor, Chrissie. I bet he’s the guy who’s interesting.”

I crinkle my nose. “He’s interesting. He’s from here. He’s from Santa Barbara. I met him when I was in high school. So it’s not as bad as it sounds.”

Jack opens his eyes and turns his head to look at me. There’s a smile in his deep blue gaze. “I didn’t think it sounded bad with him being a janitor. If he’s got his head on straight, well, that’s all that matters.”

“He’s a pretty OK guy.”

Jack smiles. “Good. We’ve decided. Date the janitor.”

I laugh and a sound makes me look over my shoulder. Maria is walking across the grass towards me. What is she carrying? A florist box? Jeez, who would send Jack flowers?

Much to my surprise, she sets the box in my lap. “This came for you, Chica.”

Stunned, I stare at the box. I’ve never gotten flowers before. This has got to be a mistake. The box is so perfect I don’t want to open it. The ribbon alone is expensive: wide, silk, sparkly, and violet, tied into an elegant, elaborate bow.

I search beneath the ribbon for a card. I frown and look up at Maria. “There is no card. Did you drop it?”

Maria shakes her head.

“Are you sure they’re for me?”

Maria nods.

Jack laughs. “I think they’re from the janitor. He probably makes more money than the graduate TA and those look pricy.” His eyes sharpen on me. “Is there something about your janitor you’re not telling me?”

I blush. “Neil would not send me flowers. Neil is more the minimart day old burrito and coffee shop kind of guy.”

Jack laughs again. “An interesting choice, Chrissie. Bring him around the house. I think I want to meet this guy.”

I frown at Jack, shake my head, and open the box.

Jeez! I stare in disbelief. Long-stem magnificent roses, and more than a dozen. I’m not sure how many there are beneath the beautiful violet tissue. At least a dozen red surrounded by… I start to count… three, maybe four, dozen white roses. I rummage beneath the paper. No card in the box either.

I lean in to smell them. “I can’t imagine who would send me these. I don’t know anyone who can afford to buy me these.”

The words clog in my throat before I’m done speaking. Except Alan. Did Alan just send me flowers for Christmas?

It’s been eight months without a call, a letter, or anything. He married Nia, and from all accounts in the tabloids, they sound like a perfect couple. No, it’s too crazy of a thought. After all this time even Alan isn’t weird enough to send me roses on Christmas Day without including a note.

“They’re beautiful, whoever sent them.” I take another sniff and hold them out towards Maria. “Can you put them in some water, please? Two vases. The red in one. The white in another.”

Maria shakes her head. “One vase.”

She says it as an imperative, as if I were doing something terribly wrong, wanting to separate my roses.

My eyes round and I shift my gaze to Jack. He makes a face as if to say he doesn’t get Maria’s reaction either.

“Fine. One vase,” I agree.

Maria smiles. “The note is the roses.”

I stare at the flowers. The note is the roses? What the heck does that mean?

“Is it in Spanish? Can you read it for me?”

I make a playful pout, Jack laughs, and Maria rebukes me with her eyes. Those giant, dark eyes flash at me. Maybe I insulted her with the Spanish joke. My cheeks warm and my contrite face this time is sincere.

“I’m sorry I was rude. How is the note in the flowers?”

Maria turns the box and points. “The red roses are the man. He’s passionate. He burns for you. The white roses are you, Chica. Purity of love. Innocence. Beauty. The man in the center burns for you and wants to be surrounded by you, purity of love.”

My entire body burns red. Jeez, how could Maria say that in front of my father? And how the heck did she get that all from a box of roses?

“Definitely put them in separate vases,” Jack orders, breaking the heavy silence.

He laughs as Maria walks away, shaking her head.

Jack’s eyes fix on me. “I definitely want to meet your janitor now.”

The color on my face darkens. “They’re not from Neil.”

“Whatever you say, baby girl. I still want to meet him.”

I pick up the ribbon from my lap and finger the pretty violet bow. The flowers couldn’t possibly be from Neil. He wouldn’t even think of doing something like this, and he definitely can’t afford it.  Logic says Alan, but my broken heart tells me that’s not possible. But why do I feel suddenly alive and as if I’ve just been touched by him? Why am I suddenly burning in my own skin?

~~~

I pull over in the drop-off loop at the Santa Barbara Airport. Even though it is the day after Christmas, a busy travel day, there are only a handful of travelers in the departure area.

Rene springs from the car. I’m really going to miss her. The first five days of break has flown by and we had a good time together, visiting our local haunts and getting into what I consider only low-key trouble.

I join Rene at the trunk of the car and help her pull out her suitcases. I grab the handle of one of the cases and we roll toward the ticket counter. “I’m really going to miss you.”

“Me too, Chrissie. Three weeks in Georgetown with Dad. Total nightmare. Be happy you don’t have to split yourself between your split parents’ homes.”

I give her a fierce hug.

She steps back and taps on my chest. “Be good to you.”

I nod obediently. “Call me when you get to your dad’s.”

She rushes off to the security area. Once through, she looks back and waves. “You stay sweet,” she yells, oblivious to the travelers around her.

I smile and wave back, “You stay cute.”

I climb back into the car and pull away from the curb. I suddenly feel anxious. I haven’t a single plan for the next three weeks. Not good, Chrissie. Not good at all.