***************Episode 2**************
Are you OK, Sally?” asked Winston. “I’ve noticed you standing down here in the lobby away from the elevators for the last couple of mornings.”
“No . . . Yes . . . I am OK . . . I’m just waiting for the elevator crowds to die down . . . you know . . . with me being sick and all . . . I just didn’t want to expose others to whatever I had last week . . . .”
“Oh . . . OK . . . I was worried that maybe you were still angry with me . . . I’ll see you upstairs . . . and don’t forget that we have a client call at 10:00 sharp . . . don’t be late!”
#
“Well . . . if I was you . . . I would just go down to 21 and ask for him,” said Nancy. “He sent you flowers! He wrote you poetry!”
“I don’t even know his name, Nancy,” answered Sally.
“You know his first name . . . how many Pierre’s can there be . . . if I was you . . . I would just go down there and ask for “Pierre” . . . he sent you flowers, Sally.”
Sally didn’t respond, staring instead out the window towards the Hudson, clearly consumed in thought.
“It’s been over a week, Sally. You know I am right . . . remember that time at Hollins when I told you to call the cadet from VMI . . . that he liked you? You know I am right, Sally!”
“Yeah . . . I know . . . but I’m not even sure that he works here . . . I’ve only seen him three times . . . twice on the elevator and once in the lobby when I snubbed him.”
“You didn’t snub him . . . you were sick and that jack-ass Winston made you come to work anyway.”
“Pierre doesn’t know that.”
After a few moments of silence, Sally turned to face Nancy. “I will think about it . . . he did send me flowers.”
#
“Welcome back, and Happy Thursday, Pierre . . . et comment va ta famille en Quebec?” inquired Brigitte with an accent that revealed her Canadian heritage.
“Tres bien . . . tres bien, merci . . . et . . . comme toujours, they asked me to pass on their regards to you, Brigitte,” replied Pierre, seamlessly switching between French and English. “Any new office politics that I should know about since I left last week?”
“No . . . but a young lady dropped off an envelope on Monday that I am sure is for you. She said she was looking for a “Pierre” that she had met on the elevator but that she didn’t have a last name. And she described her “Pierre” as, and I quote, “silly, and charming, and smart and handsome.” Afterwards, when I told her there was only one Pierre in the firm, she began to blush! I didn’t put it into the inter-company mail because it looked personal,” Brigitte said, handing him the small, sealed envelope as a smile enveloped her face.
“You’re the best, Brigitte!”
Dear Pierre,
I can’t thank you enough for the beautiful spring bouquet and the equally beautiful verse. I’m not sure which I enjoyed the most!
I was wondering if you might want to meet me for a cup of coffee tomorrow afternoon around 3:00 in the first floor café?
Your elevator friend,
Sally
#
“Dammit,” uttered Pierre in a volume audible throughout the floor. “I’ll be back in a few, Brigitte . . . I need to run over to Papyrus.”
Dear Sally,
I am so sorry that I missed having coffee with you. I went to Quebec last week to visit my family and didn’t get your note until today when I returned. May I have another chance? How about tomorrow – same time – same place?
Until then, I remain,
Your humble servant and caffeine-starved Knight,
Pierre
#
“Where has this month gone?” Nancy asked the receptionist. “We’re already half-way through February!”
“I know . . . next thing the crocuses will be pushing up . . . I love spring flowers!!”
“Has anybody seen Sally?” intervened Winston, sounding in a panic as he rushed past, almost running down the hallway. “She didn’t answer her phone and I have a super important question?”
“Everything is always ‘super important,’” muttered Nancy under her breath.
“What?”
To be continued.
