Sunflower

❁❁❁

Two vases worth of lily of the valley, three teddy bears, a nice leather bag, a silk scarf, a silver watch, twelve exquisite fountain pens, and earrings with a necklace to match.

What's next, three French hens and five golden rings?

Today's gift is smaller than the last: a slim, grey bag with a shipping label in my name. Rolling my eyes, I grab the package and search my bag for my keys.

For the past two weeks, I've been receiving mysterious gifts from an unknown source. It started with the flowers, then the teddy bears, and as the days went by, each gift only got more and more expensive. My husband, Edmund, is rightfully wary, but I don't mind the free merchandise. It's nice stuff.

"What's the present today, Mari?" Edmund eyes the package as soon as I enter our small apartment.

I toss it on the counter. "You open it," I tell him as I look through the pantry for chips. To my disappointment, I found none.

Cookies will have to do.

"Are you sure you don't know who's sending these?" he asks, poking the bag as if it contained a hive's worth of angry hornets. "Because even if it's just a hunch, I think we should call the police."

I shrug, turning away from the pantry and leaning against the counter with a cookie in my mouth and two more in my hands. "No idea," I say through a mouthful of chocolate chip, "But it's not like it's a big deal anyway, they probably just have the wrong address."

"Your name is on the package," he says with a frown.

"This may come as a surprise, but there are plenty of 'Marianne's in the world." I eat another cookie.

"It's your full name." He's scowling now.

"Maybe I've got a doppelgänger."

"That isn't funny, Mari."

I huff and hand him my last cookie (which he takes), "I know, I know, but you're seriously worrying for nothing. I swear I don't have any stalkers, insane ex-lovers, or creepy old friends who want to somehow seduce me into submission."

"So ... you're not impressed?" he asks, looking from me and back to the package again.

Ah. So that's what it is.

"None of these gifts are as impressive as you, sweets." I brush away the cookie crumbs on the counter before taking his hand, "And besides, I gave most of the gifts to Hilda anyway. You know how she is about free stuff."

He smiles at that and I knew his fears had been properly soothed. However, there's still the matter of the most recent gift, sitting right here on the counter between us.

"Should we open it?" Edmund asks.

I stare at the grey bag and my first instinct is to say no. But why waste a perfectly good gift?

"Sure." I open the kitchen drawer closest to me and hand him a pair of scissors, "If it's another necklace, I'm sure Hilda will be delighted."

He rolls his eyes with a smile as he cuts open the package, revealing a single item heavily wrapped in bubble wrap and an envelope taped to the top of it. We stare at it in silence, unease clearly written on our faces.

"There's a letter," he says, dumbstruck.

"Yes," I reply, equally at a loss for words.

"Has there ever been a letter?"

"No." I pick it up and look it over for myself, "Not once."

The envelope is stained to look ancient, the words "Open me" written in a fancy script where the addressee is supposed to be addressed. The corner for the return address had been left empty. (Of course it was.) Turning it over, I run a finger over the red wax seal keeping me from the envelope's contents. The emblem imprinted in the wax is some kind of beast, but the details aren't fine enough to be certain.