Page 3 of The Heartstrings of Harry
“Gotcha!”
Binky shrieked, startled and scared, but safe.
Below, Mrs. Dinkle clapped with excitement and cried with joy.
I slipped the stunned feline inside my jacket, then ever so carefully scaled my way back down the tree.
When I landed on terra firma, Mrs. Dinkle raced over and scooped the cat out of my jacket and into her arms. “Binky Dinkle, you naughty little thing, you gave Mommy the fright of her life! Oh Harry, how can I thank you?”
“It’s nothing,” I said, trying to subtly stretch out a pinched nerve or two. “I’m just glad he’s okay.”
“And I’m so glad you happened to drive past when you did. You’re a hero. So big and brave. How is it you haven’t found yourself a nice wife yet? If it wasn’t for Mr. Dinkle, I’d snap you up myself.” Her tone shifted discreetly. “He’s away on business at the moment, you know… Mr. Dinkle, that is. Would you like to come in for a drink?”
“Oh! Thank you, but I really should be going.” I took a step toward my truck.
“Are you sure? I’ve just opened a nice bottle of chardonnay. Seems a shame to drink it alone, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Thanks again, but I really have to go. You enjoy your wine.” I took two more steps toward the truck and waggled a finger playfully in Binky’s direction. “And you make sure you stay out of trouble, mister.”
Mrs. Dinkle took Binky’s paw in her hand and made him wave to me, saying in a baby voice, “I sure will, Harry. Thanks for saving my patootie!”
She kept waving the cat’s paw as I climbed into the truck and pulled away from the curb, grinning my farewells until Binky and Mrs. Dinkle were out of sight.
As I drove past the park, I caught the scent of jasmine from the trees down by the river. I realized I hadn’t had flowers in the house for years. Suddenly I was taken by the idea to buy a bouquet. After all it was kind of a special day.
I crossed Main Street Bridge then turned onto the promenade, pulling up in front ofBud’s Bloomswhich was still open… just. Out front Bud was emptying buckets and preparing to move the outdoor displays inside for the evening. “Hey Harry, how you doing?” he said with his always-sunshiny smile.
“I’m doing okay, you?”
“I can’t complain one iota. Spring is in the air, the flowers are blooming, and Pascal has promised to cook me some fancy French specialty for dinner. You ever tried something called ‘escargot’ before?”
“I don’t think you’re supposed to pronounce the ‘t’, and no I haven’t. Not sure I ever want to.” A shiver ran down my spine. Like I said before, I’m a guy of simple tastes. “You do know what escargot is, don’t you Bud?”
He shook his head, eyebrows arched with curiosity.
“Let me give you a hint. They come in a shell.”
Bud’s face lit up. “Like lobster? I love lobster. God, that Parisian pastry chef of mine sure knows how to spoil me.”
The puppy-love shimmer in Bud’s eyes was so sweet I didn’t have the heart to tell him he was about to be served up a plate full of snails. Something told me it wouldn’t matter anyway. Bud and Pascal had been together almost a year now and they still both walked around with a honeymoon glow about them. You couldn’t help but feel your heart swell at the sight of it, like a reminder that good things did happen to good people, that the world was still capable of conjuring up something hopeful and wonderful when it needed to. But by the same token, I pined for the day I might be lucky enough to experience it for myself.
“I should take some flowers over to Pascal’s tonight.” Bud’s eyes were already dancing excitedly. “And candles. I’ll take some candles in case things get romantic. And ice cream! I’ll pick up a tub of Clarry’s new Pink Champagne Sherbert. I can almost taste it now.” He licked his lips, then his nose caught a whiff of something else entirely. Like a truffle pig he sniffed his way down his sleeve and lifted one arm. “Woof! Note to self, I probably need to take a shower too. Do I smell to you?”
I raised both hands in surrender. “Not from where I’m standing, but let’s not get any closer just in case.”
“Shit, I’m sorry, I haven’t stopped talking since you pulled up. I’m sure you didn’t come here to listen to me yammer on. So, what can I do for you, Harry? You after some flowers? You got a hot date tonight? Don’t tell me, it’s Madeline Montgomery, the new math teacher at the school. Apparently, she moved here for a fresh start after her divorce. She seems lovely. And smart. And very polite.”
“Bud, the flowers aren’t for Madeline Montgomery. I’ve never evenmetMadeline Montgomery. The flowers are for me.”
“Foryou?”
I gave a casual, one-shouldered shrug, intent on not making a big deal of it. “Sure, why not? I need a little color in the house, something to brighten things up.”
Bud smiled. “Then a bunch of flowers is exactly what you need. Why don’t you head on inside. Maggie can help you out while I keep packing things up out here.”
As I walked through the door of the flower shop, the bell dinged overhead, and Maggie looked up and beamed at the sight of me. “Harry, you great big beautiful lug! Come here and give me a hug, I wanna lick your face, you gigantic lollipop you!”
As Maggie dropped what she was doing—like, literally dropped a bunch of daisies and pruning scissors on the floor—and charged at me, I braced myself like a running back about to get pummeled, then grunted as she slammed into me, arms around me in a death squeeze and tongue lapping at the air, trying hard to reach my face.
