Page 14 of The Incredible Kindness of Paper
“Good afternoon,” Chloe would say to a woman in a suit marching toward her. “Can I offer you a message of joy to start off your week?” But the woman would ignore her and shove past as she power walked.
“Excuse me,” Chloe would chirp at a man wearing headphones. “Can I offer you a message of joy to start off your week?” And the man wouldn’t even hear her, let alone take a flower from her hands.
No, it wouldn’t work. Maybe for someone else with a bigger personality, but Chloe wasn’t the sort who wanted the limelight, not like the contortionist on the other side of the plaza who was successfully drawing a crowd and collecting tips. Rather, Chloe preferred to work quietly. As a guidance counselor, she’d enjoyed helping her students behind the scenes; she didn’t need credit for the encouragement she gave them. Just making that small difference was all that mattered.
A tall, wispy blonde—probably one of the many aspiring runway models living in New York—whisked by. The edge of her trench coat brushed againstChloe’s basket and caught a paper rose petal, and the flower tumbled out onto the ground. The model unknowingly kicked it with the toe of her stiletto boot, and the rose skittered across the plaza.
It landed at the feet of a pair of college students who were watching the contortionist perform an impossible backbend. The girl had been stealing glances at the boy next to her, but he hadn’t seemed to notice.
The girl picked up the paper flower, cocking her head in curiosity. Then she gave one of the petals a tug, and Chloe could see the surprise lift of the girl’s eyebrows when she discovered there was a message inside. Chloe had no way of knowing which note it was, but the girl looked from the origami to the boy next to her, to the origami again. Then she took a deep breath, nodded once to herself, and kissed him.
He was startled, but as the morning sun filtered through the skyscrapers onto him, his face bloomed as long-bottled hope rose to the surface. His eyes met the girl’s, and then he leaned down and kissed her back. She looped her arms around the back of his neck, fingers clutching tightly to the paper rose that had given her the bravery to set her love in motion.
That, Chloe thought, as joy fizzed across her skin like champagne bubbles.That’s what I want these flowers to be.
She thought about Thelma the Terrier Lady, and Giovanni the Croissant Guy. The origami flowers had found them, just like this one had found the girl and the boy. Chloe loved the idea of serendipity—that seemingly random things could change your life, if only you were open to them.
And perhaps there was a kind of power in kindness and goodness. Maybe if she left the paper roses around the city—like little happiness sprinkles everywhere—a few would find their way to the people who needed them.
Five hours later, legs aching but heart on fire, Chloe had crisscrossed the city and deposited her origami flowers everywhere. She left a few in the Midtown Manhattan Library, including in the paws of Patience, one of the lion statues out front. (Chloe also picked up a few books for herself while she was there.) She put a paper rose in the napkin dispenser at a bagel cart, and on the little tables in Bryant Park. There was a flower left on the seat of an M116 bus, another on the M102, and several in Penn Station and all over Times Square.
She stepped out of the way of the flood of commuters now heading down into the subway on their way home and called Zac.
“Hey! I had the best day,” she said. “I’d love to see you and tell you all about it! Tonight?”
She heard him clicking his mouse, probably pulling up his calendar. “Bloody hell… Okay, yes, but I can’t get away from the office early. Can we meet at my place since it’s closer to my office? Besides, your apartment is so small and Becca’s always there.”
“I thought you liked Becca?”
“I don’t thinkshelikesme. Sorry, Chloe, I have to run. Meet me at my place at six-thirty?”
She checked the time on her phone. It was a little past five now. “Okay, I’ll see you then.”
It was nearly nine by the time Zac got home. Chloe didn’t have a key because they weren’t at that point of a relationship yet—they technically didn’t even have a “relationship” since it had been barely six weeks and they weren’t exclusive—so she’d spent almost four hours at the bar next door until he showed up. Maybe it would have been fun if she were the kind of person who relaxed with a few drinks, but being part Japanese, Chloe had inherited the unfortunate characteristic of flushing crimson after even an ounce of alcohol and she didn’t like when people assumed she was sloppy drunk even though she’d only had a few sips. Also, the cocktails were way out of her budget. So she’d just read one of her new library books and nursed a single nojito all night, much to the bartender’s displeasure. Honestly, Chloe should have gone home.
But as soon as Zac appeared, she forgave him, because he ran his hands through his hair while he apologized, and that plus the well-cut suit plus his accent made Chloe’s knees weak. Maybe it was vapid, but hooking up with a hot British guy was not a terrible way to end a day.
The uniformed doorman nodded at them. “Good evening, Mr. Billings, Ms. Quinn. I have the food you ordered here.”
Chloe frowned, confused, but her stomach growled as he brought over a bag from Sushi-Ya! It was her favorite Japanese restaurant in this area.
She looked at Zac. “Oh my god. You called ahead for dinner?”
“Of course.” He flashed her one of his Jane Austen/Mr. Knightley smiles and Chloe thought she might dissolve in a puddle right there on the lobby floor. “I made you wait and starve while I took much too long at the office. The least I could do was make sure you were fed the minute we walked in the door. Oh, also, this.” He pulled two tickets out of the pocket of his suit jacket.
“What’re those?”
“My company’s sponsoring a fancy gala in a few weeks. I want to take you. And I want to buy you a dress—anything you want—because you’re beautiful and should be shown off. I’ve put in a call to my person at Bergdorf Goodman and they’ll take care of you. All you have to do is show up and pick whatever you want.”
But Chloe didn’t relish the idea of being “shown off,” and Becca’s warning that Zac was a love bomber flashed through her head.
A moment later, though, Chloe dismissed it. Zac might be over the top, but just because someone was affectionate didn’t mean they were secretly a serial killer. In fact, it was refreshing to be around someone who so openly cared. If everyone could be a little more generous with their warmth, humanity would be that much better for it.
“The gala sounds like fun,” Chloe said. “But as much as I love clothes, I don’t need a new dress.”
“Nonsense. You deserve to be spoiled, and Bergdorf’s is waiting for you. But onto more important things—you wanted to tell me about your day?”
They headed up to his apartment, which had been professionally decorated by an interior designer in a style that made Chloe think of an Oxford professor’s study—tobacco-colored leather, richly stained wood, bookshelves full of classic British literature. Over edamame and sashimi, she told Zac about zigzagging all across the city, and how she’d even managed to see a bunch of her paper roses picked up. Sometimes the recipients were people who looked beaten down—heads bowed, life weighing on them—but when they opened the origami and read the message inside, they had smiled. She knew it wasn’t a complete cure for their troubles, but if she could make even a minute of their day a little better, it was worth it.
