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The next day as usual she received the pink rose and card, but today there was no email address on it. After a few more days of only the flower and card Amy decided to contact her mysterious flower person under the assumption that he was letting her set the pace by not pestering her with his email address. Amy finally relented and sent ti_amo_molto, who ever the heck that was an email. Over the next few weeks notes were occasionally exchanged. The conversation was light, the admirer didn’t press her at all in a sexual or romantic way. But also the flower person gave no information about himself, either on purpose nor did he let slip any information by accident. Amy still had no idea who it might be other than the fact she was certain is was someone on campus. Val had made it her mission to intercept the delivery of Amy’s daily pink rose, but when she finally nabbed the guy placing the flower it was just a florist deliver person with no information as to the purchaser’s identity. Then. She took him home each night, afraid that he’d crash into a telephone pole on purpose, if she didn’t. He had servants who could take care of him at home, and who resented the questions of this interloper they didn’t know. They resented her so much that they took extra care in doing their jobs, just so she would have nothing to harp about.She talked to him, and listened to his stories about his wife, and all the things they’d done together. They were childless, which was another nail in his coffin. He had no one to pass the company on to. She sat with him while he cried, and patted his hand, handing him tissues.Basically, while everyone else around him pulled back, for fear of getting personally involved in his grief, Felicity put herself close to him, because she felt sorry for him, and liked him.There was never any hanky panky. Felicity wouldn’t have thought of doing it in the first place, and Chester couldn’t bear to think of soiling the memory of his wife. No one could say they’d.
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