Not a Flower - A Novel

Chapter 12

She ate another huge bite of ice cream and let the cold trickle down her throat to cool the heat in her chest. It wasn't helping too much. Grace put the ice-cream away and went into her bedroom. She was taking a shower and then getting some sleep. Then tomorrow she was letting Brad know that they should just be friends.

Maybe it was too soon. Maybe he wasn't the person who was going to sweep her off her feet and make her fall madly in love. But at least she had given it a shot.

"Dr. Grace Madison to the front desk please."

Grace looked up from the paperwork on her desk. She debated whether she should just stay and finish the mound of work still left. But they paged her again. With a frown, she pushed the papers aside and stood up.

"There's a package here for you." The receptionist motioned her behind the desk. "You might want some help carrying it though. It took two guys to carry it in."

A wide flat rectangular brown box with international stamps was propped on the floor against the desk.

"What is it?" Grace asked in confusion.

The receptionist—Tammy—frowned. "Didn't you order it?"

"I don't even know what it is." Grace bent down and looked for a return address. It was from London. She tried to think if she had ordered anything that might have come from London. Maybe a book from Amazon?

She shook her head. "I didn't order anything."

Tammy grinned. "Maybe it's a secret admirer. Whatever it is, it's expensive. Anything from Sotheby's is expensive."

"Sotheby's!" She gaped at the package. She knew for a fact that she had never ordered anything from Sotheby's. "How do you know?"

"This card came with it."

Tammy handed her a creamy envelope with embossed letters. Sotheby's.

"Open it then." The receptionist bounced up and down. "I can't wait to see what it is."

Grace nodded slowly. With Tammy's help and a box cutter, she opened the brown packaging and foam padding.

In the box was an absolutely gorgeous oil painting in a heavy ornate gold leaf and bronze frame. About eighteen inches wide and twenty-four inches tall, the painting was of a young girl surrounded by a lush array of flowers.

"Oh my god." Tammy breathed. "That is so beautiful!"

Grace found that she couldn't speak. As she stared at the painting, her throat tightened until she was afraid she would start crying. She recognized the painting now. She remembered.

The painting was of a young girl with the eyes of a lion, of the summer storm. She sat among a riot of beautiful lush flowers and should have faded away, but she didn't.

Adrian's painting. The one he had spoken about that day in his car before telling her about Elizabeth's letters.

What was it called?

"Nest pause on floor?" Tammy read slowly looking at the card from Sotheby's.

"N'est pas une fleur." Grace correct softly. "Not a flower."

"So who sent it to you?"

Grace shook her head and began packaging the painting up again. With the help of two other people, she managed to get the painting to her car.

As pale and shaky as she looked, Grace had little trouble convincing the supervising doctor to let her leave early. She drove home in a daze, unable to think coherently.