To be her

Chapter 5

Mr who

"Mr. Glanville Bliss?" Her voice trembled slightly with excitement.
I turned to face her, a little taken aback. "Yes, that's me."
Her eyes lit up, and she grinned as if she'd met a celebrity. "I'm such a huge fan of your art. Would it be alright if I took a picture with you?"
"Of course," I replied, giving a half-smile, though the sudden attention made me uncomfortable. It wasn't something I was used to, even after all these years of painting.
She snapped the photo quickly, then hesitated. "I'm so sorry—"
I waved my hand, cutting her off. "No need to apologize. It's fine."
Her face softened, and her voice turned brighter. "You're so kind, sir! Now, what can I get you?"
I looked at her, appreciating the genuine warmth in her eyes. "I'll have a coffee, please." I turned to Mr. Smith, who had been quiet until now. "What about you, Uncle?"
"The same for me," he said with a nod.
As she left to place the order, Mr. Smith raised an eyebrow. "What was all that about?"
I leaned back in my chair, exhaling slowly. "While I was in the UK, I sold some of my paintings. It's not something that happens every day, but every now and then, someone recognizes me."
Mr. Smith looked thoughtful for a moment. "Well, I've always thought your paintings were extraordinary. You've got talent, Glanville. No doubt about that."
"Thanks," I replied, glancing at my watch. Time was slipping away. "I should get going soon. The break's almost over."
I stood up, gave him a quick hug, and made my way out. As I entered the office, a round of applause greeted me. The deal had been finalized. A surge of pride filled me, and I couldn't help but smile. "Great job, everyone!" I shouted. "Dinner's on me tonight. Order whatever you want."
Cheers erupted from the team, and I walked to my cabin, my heart a little lighter, a little fuller.
Once inside, I sank into my chair, the weight of the day settling on me. But amidst the satisfaction of a successful deal, I found myself thinking about her. Malva. I couldn't shake the memory of our walk last night—the way she had spoken so softly about the flower she adored.
Without thinking, I picked up my phone and called Steve. "Hey, Steve, could you grab a bouquet of carnations and bring it to my office?"
"Got it, boss," he replied, and I hung up, a smile curling at the corners of my mouth.
I grabbed a piece of paper and quickly scribbled a note:
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"Dear Malva,
I hope you like this bouquet of carnations. I wanted to share this special moment with you. Today, I sealed the deal I've been working for, and I thought it would be nice to celebrate with my good friends. Please don't think this gesture is too forward.
Yours truly,
Glanville"
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By the time I finished, Steve had returned with the bouquet. I handed it to him with a simple instruction. "Take this to Malva's house. It's just five doors down."

Steve nodded, taking the flowers and note, and left. I sat back in my chair, the warmth of the moment settling around me. A simple gesture. But for some reason, it felt important.