Pink and Perfumed

I put out the challenge to my women writers group this week to write a story that incorporated certain words in the text.Well, of course, I included myself in the challenge. The assigned words were: magazine, she froze for a moment then, clever, it doesn't matter


Spilling the mail on the floor as she tripped over the entry way rug, Margo cursed under her breath. She watched as the new home design magazine slid across the freshly polished mahogany floor. Flinched inwardly as it ended up against the closet door, cover flipped back, crinkled, and slightly torn.

“Well, aren't you the clever one.” She muttered crossly. “Dan’s bound to be unhappy about that one.” Stomping to the closet, she grabbed the magazine as one would grab an offensive child by his collar. She smoothed the pages down and shoved loose inserts back inside, kicking off her boots as she did so. 

Satisfied with her efforts to restore order to Dan’s precious periodical, she slapped it down on the side table along with her car keys. Shrugging out of her jacket she marched back to the door to gather the rest of the wayward mail. Having grabbed the mail from the outside box on her way up the walk, she’d not yet scanned the contents and now took the opportunity to do so. Flipping past utility bills and bank statements, she smelled it before she saw it. Pink and petite, addressed to Dan in a loopy feminine handwriting, the perfume wafted up and tickled her nose.

She froze for a moment, then using her thumb and forefinger extracted the letter carefully. She flipped it over. No return address. Her golden-green eyes narrowed to slits. What the heck? Margo tapped the letter against the palm of her hand contemplating her next move.

She could set it on the hallway table with the rest of the mail and watch Dan’s reaction when he came home and saw it. She’d be able to tell a lot by his face. Poker-face was not a word you would use to describe Dan by any means. Would she confront him then and demand to know what was going on?

Or she could open it, obviously, and find out just who this brazen woman was and know exactly what was going on. She wouldn’t need to wait for some limp excuse, or worse, something she wasn’t ready to face.

Carefully now she laid the letter down on the kitchen counter and put some water on for tea. Paced back and forth across the tile kitchen as she waited for the water to heat. Picked up the letter. Set it back down. Paced some more.

When the tea kettle began to emit its whistle, Margo snatched the letter back up. Holding the letter in one hand she moved the tea kettle off the burner. What if the seal of the letter just happened to be in the path of hot steam… what then?

Lips pursed, Margo allowed the envelope to dangle in front of the tea kettle. Eyes wide with fascination she watched as the envelope flap curled slightly. Forgetting the tea making, she slipped one perfectly manicured finger against the flap and slightly under. With just a little more pressure the seal would give and the letter would be opened.

Aware she was about to cross a line she forced herself to take a deep breath and reevaluate the situation. Was not her and Dan’s relationship built on trust? Did she really believe something less than honorable might be going on here?

Yes, she reasoned, she did trust Dan. It was the sender of the fragrant letter that she wasn’t sure about. She laid the card back on the counter and crossed her arms.  

Slowly she began ticking off all the reasons she could think of that someone would write to Dan using pink and perfumed wiles.

Perhaps it was a thank you note. Dan volunteered often with Habitat for Humanity. It could be from one of the office gals. Or maybe it was from an aunt. She couldn’t remember Dan mentioning an aunt but she was willing to give the benefit of the doubt here.

After that, Margo was stumped. Suddenly her face brightened. “Oh! I know! Maybe it’s a gift card for me and Dan wants to surprise me with it later!” Then, “But why would they send it looking all girly-girl and smelling like…” she took a closer whiff. “… Vanilla Musk”

She slapped her hand against her forehead. Of course. Vanilla Musk. Her favorite. Available only from the Secret Pantry, where she had added Dan’s name to their mailing list a few months ago to help him remember upcoming events. Like their anniversary.

Her cheeks flushed, she hastened to the hallway table and laid the letter carefully among the rest of the mail.

“And if I’m wrong, it doesn’t matter. I trust Dan.”

Her decision made, Margo returned to the kitchen for her forgotten cup of tea.