Issie glanced up at the single red rose on her desk. A sensation of warmth hit her center. She loved flowers, but she wished she knew who had given it to her. And asking around the office gave her less than satisfaction because no one admitted to leaving it, seeing it delivered, or that they were the bearer. Issie sat back in her chair and smiled remembering she’d suggested this very thing in one of her responses. If she received another rose tomorrow, she’d really be flipping out.
Allowing herself to speculate about who the mystery man might be, she went though a mental list of the guys in the office but came up with nothing. Other than Gary, she wasn’t really friendly with any of them. Perhaps it was the guy who cleaned the offices at night. He always seemed to be around when she was leaving and gave her the customary wink as she exited. His name was Carlos. Or a possible contender could be the guy who ran the coffee kiosk in the lobby. He always flirted with her. Or maybe it was just a silly prank and it would wear off.
She was pleased the column was having such an impact. It gave her something to look forward to every day. The complimentary emails sent to Rory were coming in at a steady rate, expressing pleasure that the Globe had finally hired someone to handle romance issues. Issie laughed when Zeke had shown her the letters. All she kept thinking was how ironic something like this was. She was good at giving advice; too bad she didn’t know how to counsel her own love life.
She tried to visualize how Rory would react to the news that people were making a connection with the column. She thought he might be excited, but that was the old Rory. She wasn’t sure about this new Rory who’d walked out of the hospital last week and taken on a new persona. True, he was distraught, but it just seemed as though something had snapped. She told herself to give the guy a break and brushed it off hoping things would soon be back to normal.
Issie removed a letter from the pile and began to read. Unimpressed with its content, she rummaged through the pile until she found another and gave it a quick scan with her eyes. So many of these letters mirrored her own life. It was comforting to know she wasn’t alone and that’s why she had to take a step back and not take these letters personally by retaliating with a snarky response. Hopefully, some of that advice would rub off on her.
But seriously, what exactly did men want?