sandandwater: (looking down)
Nearly a week and Pippa had yet to send Aryn a thank you note for the flowers her Manhattan area friend sent over in recognition of her birthday. The arrangement was amusing and the flowers themselves lovely, but every time Pippa looked at them sitting on the kitchen counter, she felt a bit uneasy. Birthdays, her own birthdays, were not something Pippa liked to acknowledge.

It had nothing to do with getting older, she was only twenty-six and considered herself young by most standards. Laughably so if she took into account that she just helped Ro celebrate his 113th year. No, it had more to do with the her mother, the last birthday party Pippa had, and her belief that you couldn't much celebrate the child without also celebrating the mother.

However, she couldn't keep putting this off. Aryn had no way of knowing how Pippa felt and there was little excuse for being rude when someone gave you a thoughtful gift. Pippa pulled a sheet or two of her personalized stationary from her writing desk and carried it to the kitchen table along with a pen:

Aryn,

Thank you so very much for the flowers. They are lovely and I've been enjoying their bright colors all week. Ro wants to know if I plan to use the vase to make the mother of all margaritas once the blooms have finally wilted. I haven't
quite decided.

Pippa


She folded the note and placed it in an addressed envelop. It would go into the post the next day.
sandandwater: ([short hair] broken & deceived)
November 5th

On the coffee table, which had been draped in filmy gauze, sat a cake, rich and decadent in its layers of sculpted chocolate. Beside it lay a carefully wrapped box, silver foil paper to reflect the delicate flames of nearby candles.

Tea lights littered the surface of every table, shelf and window ledge. The miniature candles even lined the baseboards of the living room, bathing the entire space in a warm, flickering glow. The shadows danced up walls and over furniture, almost in time to the gentle rhythm of the music quietly playing on the stereo, making the room feel alive. On the floor leaves had been scattered, all the colors of autumn creating a carpet of maple and oak, hiding the firmly woven Berber beneath. Mingled with the artificial leaves were the very real and fragrant blooms and petals of roses and mums, daisies and baby’s breath.

This indoor garden had been extended to the bedroom where in lieu of candlelight, small white Christmas lights had been wound and wrapped over bedposts and draped along the corners of the ceiling. The bed was another blanket of blossoms, carefully spread over satin sheets and pillowcases.

She surveyed her work with a critical eye and then let out a laugh that was full of delighted mischief. This was going to be such a mess to clean up but it was worth it just to be able to imagine the look of surprise on his face. Pippa had effectively turned Rory’s apartment into a fairytale forest, complete with one impish wood sprite.

With another peel of laughter, she removed her dressing gown and donned a pair of pixie wings before reentering the living room. Along with the glittered blush she wore on her face, brushed across her chest, the wire and nylon accent was all the little redhead was wearing as she folded herself onto the center seat of the sofa. Knees to chest, hands on knees and her chin resting on folded hands, she waited.

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sandandwater

October 2009

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