The Perfect Gift

One man's quest to find the perfect gift for his girlfriend

The Perfect Gift

 

Have you ever spent any time in line at a department store during the summer rush for back to school, it can be a night mere? Now that the rush is over, and the kids are back at school, I am now in search of the perfect birthday gift for my girlfriend, Angela, her big day is exactly one day over two months from the Fourth of July, and I have no clue what to get her. I checked every store I knew that she might like something from, but nothing caught my eye.

  Well, there I stood in line at Precious Stone Jewelers in Orlando, waiting to be helped by a young woman who did not look to be any older than twenty-two.

“How may I help you?” The young woman asked the man two people in front of me.

“I’m looking for a necklace for my granddaughter.” He replied,

“How old is she?” She asked, opening the glass display case that she stood behind.

“Twelve,” He answered,

“We have a nice selection of silver chains and an array of silver charms.” She said, then placed a black velvet display board of chains on top of the glass case, and then produced a second matching board filled with charms and placed it next onto the case.

“Let’s see,” He said, bending over slightly to get a better view.

That was when I knew that I could be standing here all day long. I glanced around the small store and noticed that all the sales clerks were busy with customers and each had three people standing in line waiting their turn. While the old man tried to make up his mind about a charm, shaped like a music note or a charm shaped like a grand piano, I grew even more impatient. I began to shift from one foot to the other starting to feel frantic.

This year was supposed to be different; I did not want to get Angela anything that would remind her that the day of her birth was the end of the summer or the beginning of fall, the symbolism of death. I wanted to find the perfect gift that would always remind her that September fifth was her day. I always believed that kids, as well as, adults, whose birthday fell within few a months of the big holidays got rooked out of their big day. Friends and relatives always bought big presents for the holiday, then gave something small for their birthday, and secretly blame the issues of money that was spent on the major holidays to justify the small simple gift.

That is not what I wanted for Angela, I wanted to make her birthday special. I wanted a gift that represented her day. What is that gift? I had yet to find it. So the search continued for the right present, something that only she would have, something that she could hold in her little hands and call all hers. I wanted to give her something that meant just as much to her as it will to me when I discover it. That was the biggest question, what do you give a woman whose beauty surpasses any model that walks any runway around the world? Then the jewelry idea came to mind, but if I bought something mass-produced then would it truly be hers?

Damn!

The old man still had not been able to make up his mind, ten minutes had passed, and the more he stared at the charms, the more worried I became. I thought about a possible gift certificate from her favorite restaurant, but that seemed like an after thought; people give those out when they have to give someone a gift, non-personal. No, a gift certificate would not do for this present, I needed to find the right gift and it had to be soon. When the old man picked out the music note charm, I thought he was done. Well, that was a misguided notion; because that was only one of eight grandchildren, he wanted to buy jewelry for. The middle-aged woman in front of me moved out of our line and slid into a line where she would be the next customer helped. If I had been paying attention and not wondered about Angela’s gift, I would have seized the opportunity to move to the next line.

“That is for Lisa.” He droned, staring at the sparkling silver, “Now I need a charm for Donna.”

I had to give it to the young sales woman; she still had a broad smile set upon her face. Although other people were making purchases for the up-coming holiday season and seemed to be in a hurry, the old man produced a list that seemed to be longer, than the scroll Santa carries. I glanced at my watch and noticed that it was getting late and I wanted to be home before Angela arrived. Tonight we planned to order pizza, watch a movie and cuddle up on the couch and just be together. That was our plan; but lately, every time we plan a night together it doesn’t seem to work the way we want.

Just as I turned around to leave, the door chimed and then opened, and in walked Angela, she looked as if she had come from the beach, she wore shorts and one of my Boston Red Sox T-shirts and pink and white Reeboks. Her brown hair pulled into a French braid, just way, I like it, and she walked straight toward me. Who could miss me? I was wearing a bright red Boston Heart Walk T-shirt in honor of my niece Catherine, who at five years old had open-heart surgery, and survived, a pair blue jeans and my work boots, I look as if, I belonged in a homeless shelter instead of a jewelry store in Orlando, Florida.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, strolling up to me.

I looked at her and smiled, “Oh, looking for a gift for Catherine,” I lied, trying to divert her away from the true reason for my being there, “What are you doing here, I thought you had to work all day?” and then I took her hand, leaned closer and kissed her on the lips.

When our lips parted, Angela looked around the small store and noticed the crowd of people waiting for a sales clerk, then turned back to me. “Well, to be honest with you, I took the rest of the day off to go see that new movie with Brad Pitt, Love Italian Style” She replied,

“How about we get some lunch?” I asked nervously, not knowing what else to say.

“All right, but after that I want go see the movie. It starts at one o’clock.” She said,

“Deal,” I replied, then led her away from the jewelry store.

The sun shone through the white puffy clouds and not a threat of rain to be seen, it was still early yet, come two o’clock in the afternoon you have to watch yourself or you might be caught in a downpour. Downtown, Orlando is where all the business people work and hang out. The working-man works anywhere but downtown because of the image factor. Its not a written rule its just one of those rules that you learn quickly here in O-town. Now if you are shopping in this area, its like being in one of the major cities, north of the Mason-Dixon Line, its fast paced. The shoppers who walked by us, carried bags with expensive names printed along the side Bloomingdales, Macy’s, and a few others that are known around Fifth Ave in New York, Newberry Street in Boston, and Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills. As I watched the shoppers stroll by, I still had an issue with my problem, Angela’s birthday gift.

We made our way to the Italian section of O-town, and now seated in my favorite restaurant, The European. Angela ordered a meatball sub and a glass of soda. I on the other hand am not going to miss an opportunity to have one of my favorite Italian dishes, tripe with meat gravy, and a glass of red wine straight from the vineyards of Sicily. Now that’s what I call comfort food.

“What did you want to get Catherine?” She asked,

 “Oh I don’t know maybe something she could use for school.” I replied, taking a sip of wine.

“You were looking for something that your ten year old niece could use for school, in a jewelry store?” She said, “What were you going to buy her a jewel encrusted gold pen?” She replied, as the waitress placed our meals onto the table.

My face began to burn red, I didn’t really know what to say, the only word that came to mind I let roll off my tongue, “Maybe,” then bent my head down, picked up my fork and dug into my meal.

I would not make eye contact with her and she knew that I was hiding something, but she would not lead on because she wanted to see her movie. All through our meal, we talked about our work, she worked for Pièce de resistance restaurant as a pastry chef in Kissimmee, and I worked as freelance writer going where the wind and words take me, all right maybe the wind doses not blow very far in Orlando but I do have a way with words. Once our business cleared, we settled on a subject that we never tire from, us, and how we compare ourselves to the characters in the stories that I write. The topic of the Saint Anthony’s feast, the Italian holiday, came up, and what we were planning to do for those two weeks.

“Are you going to your sister’s house?” She asked,

“No,” I replied,

“Why not?”

“We can’t afford to me flying to Boston.”

“Sure we can.”

“Are you going with me?”

“I don’t know I have to see if I can get time off.”

“Sure you can, just ask.”

“We’ll see,”

You know we were all invited,”

“I know, Amy told me that Marie Elena will be there.”

Just knowing my daughter was to be at the feast was enough to brighten up my spirits.

“I see that struck a nerve.” She said, smiling

“Is she really going to be there?”

“That’s what your sister told me.”

“We’ll see what happens.”

“You are stubborn, let by-gones-be-by-gones.”

“We’ll see,” was the only answer I gave.

“Okay, but you know if Marie Elena was there and you didn’t go, you’ll kick yourself in the a*s for the rest of your life.”

“I know,”

The waitress came by and placed the bill onto the table, then instructed the young bus-boy to clean off the dirty dishes. I dug into my pocket and extracted the bills needed for the amount and handed it to her along with the bill along with her tip.

“Well, I have to run I want to pick up a few things we’ll need for tonight. I’ll see you when you get home.” Angela said, “Please don’t be late.”

“I won’t be too late,” I said, then kissed her on the lips.

When Angela left the restaurant, I ordered one more glass of wine and thought about what would be the perfect birthday gift. Right away, my mind filled visions of long lines, like the ones at the jewelry store, and realized that Halloween was a month after her birthday then Thanksgiving then the big one Christmas. Therefore, I decided to get her jewelry for Christmas not her birthday. What to do, what to do? Then it hit me: a mink coat. I quickly drained my glass, paid the bill, and then left the restaurant in search of a warm mink coat in Orlando. Before I was able to walk three blocks on Orange Avenue, I ran into a friend of mine, Mike. He stood five feet eight inches tall, with dark brown eyes, and dark brown hair. He had a football player build, and had more connections around the city then the mayor or his staff.

“Hey Mike, what’s up?” I greeted,

“Buon giorno, Butch!” Mike said, “What are you doing here?”

I chuckled to myself, Mike was like me and a few others we grew up with, we spoke broken Italian, never able to form complete sentences from our heritage language, but we got our point across.

“Well, I started out the day, going to buy Angela a birthday gift, one that is only for her, but I ran into her here in the city, so I had to change my game plan.”

“Compleano che cosa? (What birthday?) Why don’t you buy her, zucchero candito (candy)?”

“To impersonal,”

“Give her the gift that keeps on giving all year round.”

“Money?”

“No, mutismo (dumbness), sudiciona maschio (male s**t).”

”Trcete, (shut up) Mike!”

“Hey I’m only trying to aiuto (help).”

You’ve aiuto enough. Now where can I go and find a giacchetta visone (mink coat).”

“Per che fare? (what for?)”

“Compleano? (birthday?)”

“Why don’t you see my zio (uncle) about the giacchetta?”

“No, no…” I replied quickly, “I’ll go and find one myself.”

“Why don’t you try il bene e il male (good and evil), in Daytona. If they don’t have a giacchetta you like they’ll order you one for you.” Mike said, watching me walk away shaking my head.

When I was almost at the end of the street, I turned toward Mike, and he made his way across the street to greet another man in front of the small café. I greeted some people who recognized me from Boston, but I did not stop to chat. I had a mission; I had to find the perfect birthday gift. I turned right when I arrived at Campoli’s Pizzeria and all of a sudden, I stopped when I heard a female voice call out to me. “Scossa (jerk),” She stood ten feet behind me.

I slowly turned around, and came face to face with a woman, I have not seen since my days in the streets of Boston, Gina Macchi.

 

“Gina,” I said,

“Did you think you able to walk through little Italy and not say hi to me?” She said,

“I was hoping,” I muttered under my breath.

“What did you say?” She demanded, flipping her long raven hair off her shoulder.

“Nothing,” I replied, “Buon giorno!”

“That’s better, buon giorno, e tu?”

“Bene…” I stammered, knowing that my Italian speech is not what it should be, “e tu?

“Bene,” she replied, “Che hai? (What’s the matter with you?)”

“Nothing, I am on a mission.” I said, looking around to see if there was any one, who could take Gina away from me.

“What type of mission are you on?” She asked, “Since you insist on speaking English.”

“I need to find a perfect birthday present for my girlfriend.” I said, staring into her dark brown eyes.

“Oh!” She exclaimed, “And what did you have in mind?”

“I was thinking about a giacchetta.” I said,

“Oh, what kind?” She asked,

“Pelliccia, (fur).”

“Aren’t we the umido micino (wet p***y)?”

“Qualunque, (whatever).” I replied, shaking my head.

“What kind of Pelliccia are you looking for?” She asked, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her tight jeans.

“I was thinking about a mink,” I stated proudly

“Whoa, a visone,” She said, her eyes growing wide. “Why not buy cioccolata, (chocolate), gioielli, (jewelry), or profumo (perfume)?”

“Because all those things are impersonal, I want something to show the world that she is a vision of bellezza, (loveliness).” I replied sharply.

“Relax, relax,” She said, holding her hands up in front of me, “I’m only trying to aiuto.”

“Qualunque,” I said, “you’re just geloso, (jealous).”

“Geloso, geloso!” She declared, raising her voice, “You are out of your ever loving mind if you believe that I am geloso of you. When have I ever been geloso of you?”

“Ever since we stopped dating twenty years ago,” I shot back, “And now I must be going I have a lot to do!”

I stared at Gina for a brief moment and she seemed to have calmed down quickly. I slowly turned around and began to stroll along the sidewalk, heading toward the lake. “Scozzese, (Scott),” She called  out to me, I didn’t turn around, “Your signora is a very lucky woman to have some one like you by her side, but take it for what its worth; she won’t like the giacchetta, this is Florida, besides where will she wear it? It’s like an oven down here. You better think of something else!”

By the time I rounded the corner, Gina’s voice was swept away by the blowing wind. I thought hard about the perfect gift. I aimlessly walked through the city’s lakefront watching pigeons chase bread crumbs from the small children who have dropped them along the way to the play area of the secluded park. I stopped at one of the newest lakefront cafés for a cup of ice coffee and a doughnut. After I received my snack, I continued my stroll, heading for the financial district, and ending up at the park and ride across the street from the Farmer’s Market off Orange Avenue, where I parked my truck. I climbed the cement stairs to the third floor and walked over to where my pick up was. I noticed Angela’s blue Ford, Focus was, parked next to the truck, and the back seat was filled with shopping bags. After I unlocked the driver’s door, I climbed in behind the wheel and noticed a small piece of paper trapped under the windshield wiper. I activated the windshield wipers, stuck my arm out of the window, and caught the paper as it slid across the glass. I turned the wipers off, and then unfolded the paper and read it to myself.

 

 

               Hey Sweetie,

This is just a little note to let you know that I was thinking about you. Thank you for lunch, you made it special just like everything you do with me. I am off to the movies and I will see you at home, please do not be late. I have some special plans for us, it’s a surprise. I love you with all my heart and soul. Do not forget your promise to love me forever.

        Love always

                                          Angel

 

The simple note made my eyes water, as I wiped the tears away I thought about how much Angela meant to me and all that did was inspire me to search for a gift that had Angela written all over it. I folded the paper in half and slid it into my pants pocket. I started the engine, then pulled out of the space and made my way to the front gate.

š                            š                                š

 

Time seemed to have slipped by. That night Angela and I had a great time together. We ordered pepperoni pizza from Momma Mia’s and we watched the movie Ghost, cuddled on the couch and commented on the movie if it was possible for it to occur. We talked about the up coming holidays and what our plans included, and the whole night reminded me of the old movies where the stories were about family values and the world worried about keeping each other at peace. Those were the times when families did things like eat together in dining room, not in front of the television set, and they would all pile in the family car, and took a ride on a Sunday afternoon with no destination in mind. Now in the twenty-first century the time people spend together is less and less. They rely on electronics to do for them just like on the cartoon The Jetsons. What ever happened to the days when life was carefree and the whole focus was on family values? The family chemistry that had been misplaced somewhere between 1959 and 1981; I can’t pinpoint where it had gone, but I do know, Angela and I are trying to rekindle that family value and put a little bit of stability back in our home front. When the movie was over, the pizza was gone, and the mess that we created was now the priority to take care of. While Angela picked out our next movie, I cleaned the dishes and began to pop the popcorn, during this whole night of total relaxation my mind still focused on the perfect gift.

 

 

I pour two glasses of wine and brought them into the living room, where I found the woman that I truly loved, curled up on the couch. The movie she picked out was the Christmas classic Miracle on 34^th street, starring Natalie Wood as a small child. I handed Angela her wine and she patted the soft cushion beside her, indicating I should sit next to her. The entire time Santa spent in the courtroom trying to convince the judge that he really was Santa; my thoughts fell upon a present that she might like a new car.

The next morning, after Angela whizzed off to Pièce de resistance, I had breakfast, took a shower, got dressed, and departed the house to continue my quest for the perfect gift. As I sat in my truck; the thoughts of a new car filled my head; however, that only brought on more questions. What make and model? Should it be a car or a truck? What color should it be? What features should be included in this new car or truck? 

Damn!

I pulled out of the driveway and rode around to different dealerships; new cars, used trucks, the list seemed endless. What was I really looking for? I pulled into a Ford dealership in Longwood, parked the truck, and began to look over the array of vehicles they had to offer. It was not too long before a sales representative came out of the building and strolled across the parking lot and stood by my side.

“Welcome to Central Florida Ford, how may I help you?” He said,

“Just looking,” I replied

“If you need any help I’ll be inside.” He said, giving up,

“All right, thank you,” I said, then moved on to look at more cars.

While I was looking over a used minivan, a female sales representative strolled up behind me, and waited for me to turn around. I noticed her reflection in the glass; she had long brown hair pulled into a professional French braid. Her face was true professional; she had sharp features, piercing blue eyes that seem to hold your attention for long periods. She wore a simple purple, woman’s business suit, black leather dress shoes, and carried a clipboard that she held pressed against her chest.

“Welcome to Central Florida Ford,” She said, in a cheerful sounding voice,

I turned around and greeted her, “Good morning,” I said, shaking her hand.

“How may I help you?” She replied,

“I am looking for a birthday present for my girlfriend, and…” I paused, not really knowing how to state my intentions for the gift. “I was thinking of a new car.”

“My name is Teresa and I would love to help you pick out a present for you girlfriend.” She said, as if everyday people came into the dealership looking for new cars as birthday gifts. “What kind of car does she drive now?”

“A two year old Ford, Focus.” I replied,

“A two year old Focus,” She inquired, “Why on earth would you think about buying her a new car? Her car is still new.”

“I don’t know,” I said, in defeat, “I wanted to give her something that was only for her, and apparently I am still at square one.”

Teresa and I gazed out over the vast ocean of colorful vehicles, and then she looped her arm around mine and began to speak as we strolled along the long line of minivans. “What is your girlfriend’s name?”

“Angela,” I replied, staring at a new minivan.

“And yours?”

“Scott,”

“Well Scott, your girlfriend has to be the luckiest woman on earth to have some one care that much to spend un-godly amounts of time on trying to find the perfect gift. Now my husband and I have been married for over fifteen years and he hasn’t put an eighth on a Christmas gift as you put on this gift, just today.” Teresa said, turning to face me, “I earn my living selling cars, if the customer is not really sure about the car, I’m supposed to nudge them along with their decision” she paused, “I can’t let you waste your money on a car that will not be what you are looking for.”

“How do you know I’m not looking for a car for her?” I inquired, cocking one eyebrow.

She stared into my eyes and said, “Because her car is still new, besides buying a car wouldn’t be truly from your heart, that’s more from the wallet.” She paused, “You need to give her something from your heart, something that you can only give her, what that is? I don’t know, but you’ll know it once you find it.”

We made a complete loop around the large parking lot and ended up at my pick up. I climbed into the driver’s seat, started the engine, and thought about what would be the perfect gift. Before I could drive away Teresa tapped on the window.

I rolled the window down and said, “Hey!”

“Scott,”

“Yeah,”

“What is your last name?”

“Cooper, why?”

“Scott Cooper the author?”

“Yes,”

“I thought that was you.”      

“You’ve heard of me?”

“Sure, who hasn’t.” and then paused, “Think about it, have a great day and I hope you find what you are looking for.” She said, and then walked over to a young couple who were in search of a different type of present.

I rolled up the window so my A/C would not be working over time and then put the truck in gear and drove away from the dealership. As I crossed the line of Orlando, I thought about buying her clothes. Which kind, work, play, or bedroom clothes? The choices were abundant and I did not want to insult her in any way, besides that would not be from me. Once again, it would be from the wallet. Those are the present’s people buy for their children; it would be like giving a ten-dollar bill to a dog for Christmas, what would he do with it? Certainly, it wouldn’t taste good. So there I was once again, roaming around town in search of the perfect gift for my angel. As I passed the florist, it hit me like a ton of bricks. I made a U-turn and pulled into the small parking lot. I stepped out of the truck and made a beeline for the front door.

The pleasant sounds of Mozart and the sweet aroma of flowers filled the air as I entered the small store. Every color under the sun was shown; behind a small oak wood counter was Jodie Salvati and her husband Dante, the owners. They were dressed in the uniform of their business, Angel’s Wings Flora, a white tunic with a pair of gold embroiled angel’s wings over the right breast pocket. The older couple has owned this business for more than thirty years, and every major event of my life, since moving to Florida, these two people have been a part of supplying flowers for all the occasions.

“Good morning, Scott.” Jodie said, moving a strand of gray hair away from her eyes.

“Good morning, Jodie, Danny.” I replied, strolling over to kiss my mother’s dearest friend.

“Oh, Scott how is everyone?” She said, breaking away from my embrace, and then picked up a single rose wrapped in purple tissue paper, and then handed it to me. “This is for Angela,”

“Thank you I’ll make sure that she gets it.” I replied excepting the rose. “I would like to order some flowers.”

“Is there a special occasion?” Danny asked, putting some final additions on a grand centerpiece.

“These are for a birthday present.” I said,

“Birthday present, whose birthday are you talking about?” Danny asked, cocking his right eyebrow.

“They’re for Angela.” I said,

“Flowers are nice for Valentine’s Day and to accent a much grander gift, but not for the gift itself.” Danny said, shaking his head from side to side. “What else are you planning on giving that beautiful girl of yours?”

“I don’t know yet.” I said,

“A trip to Alaska would be nice.” Jodie interjected,

“That sounds like a great idea.” I said,

It was a great idea until I glanced at Danny; who was now shaking his head again. “What’s wrong with a trip?”

“Well, the thought is nice, but when it’s all over, then what do you do?” He said, “What will she have when it’s all over?”

“A great memory,” I replied,

“And that too will fade away like the flowers you bought.” He said sounding like the wise man I have come to respect him for. “Then what will she have to remind her of her special day?”

While the fragrance of fresh flowers filled my senses, the music changed to Chinese Water Music, I looked around the small shop and noticed some small purple roses, sitting in a white bucket on a shelf in the cooler. I turned back to Jodie and asked, while cutting my eyes to Danny, “Will you make up a bunch of bouquets of assorted roses, to accent a grander gift, that I yet to locate!” Danny smiled at my statement and continued to work on a large centerpiece for some lucky girl’s wedding.

“When would you like to pick them up?” Jodie asked,

“I would like them delivered to my home.” I said, moving my gaze to Jodie.

“When would you like them delivered?” She asked, writing my order on a note pad.

“Angela’s birthday is September fifth; can you deliver them around dinner time?” I requested, pulling my wallet from my hip pocket.

 

 

“They’ll be there.” She said, “Oh! Scott,”

“Yeah,” I replied, placing two one hundred dollar bills on to the counter.

“Please don’t let Danny get to you.” She said, picking up the money, “He doesn’t mean any harm.”

“I know all he did was open my eyes to what I really need to do.” I replied, staring at her.

“That would be?” She inquired,

“To give Angela the only gift that will truly be from me and no one else could ever give her.” I replied,

When I completed my transaction for the flowers, I made my way over to The Merlin’s Coven Bookstore in south Orlando. Years ago when I wrote my first Dutch Winters novel, Mark and Heather, the owners of the bookstore, encouraged me to continue my writing career and to take a couple of Creative Writing classes to help improve my story telling skills. Mark, Heather, and Amy, my sister, put their heads together and helped me prepare a package to send to an agent Mark knew. From that first phone call, the agent told me he wanted to publish the story; Dutch Winters became a household name. The Merlin’s Coven Bookstore featured that first book; Mark and Heather spared no expense on its promotion. Each week since that first sale of With a Lime Twist I have visited the bookstore and spoke to young writers, who hang around and write their stories in peace and quiet. These inspiring young writers hang around, drink coffee, eat pastries, and hope to get a chance to sit down with me, or other writers, and go through a brainstorming session that produces remarkable results. Other writers stop in to have lectures about aspects of story telling, such as R. D. Harper of Belton, Texas, M. D. Gilligan of Boston, Massachusetts, and R. B. Parker of Hollywood, California.

After parking the truck in the back lot of the store, I walked around the red brick building and entered the large store. The store was packed with people, mostly students from the University of Central Florida, standing around a table in front of the café. I weaved my way through the mass of students, who were in line to meet a new writer that Mark and Heather discovered, and invited for a book signing. As I moved around the smiling faces, I reflected on the day that I sat in the very same spot, and signed book after book for the people who enjoyed my story telling talents. By the time, I settled back into the present time, I was sitting in the café at a small table. I looked at the young girl worked the counter, Mark and Heather’s daughter, Tabitha.

“Good day, Mr. Cooper.”

“How are you Tabitha?” I replied smiling.

“Would you like your normal?” She asked,

“Sure,” I said, “Who’s the new author?”

“Her name is Charlene Foster, she wrote a story about growing up in mid-west America.” She said,

“Did you read the book?” I inquired,

“As a matter of fact I did, it was rather good.” She said, pouring my coffee.

“Where is your dad?” I asked,

“He’s on the phone with Uncle Romeo in Italy.” She said, placing a cappuccino and a Boston-cream doughnut in front of me.

“Where’s your Mom?” I asked,

 

 

“She’s with Miss Foster. Do you want me to tell her you’re here?” She inquired,

“No that’s all right I’ll wait for your father to finish.” I said, and then took a sip.

“Are speaking today?” She asked when she stood behind the counter again.

“I don’t think so, why?” I asked, and then took a bite of my doughnut.

“Well if you were, I would get your area ready for you. This is a knowledgeable crowd from the school here today.” She said, “I could also call your faithful students, they would never miss an opportunity to hear you speak.”

“Maybe another time, let the new author have her lime light.” I said, “Will you let your dad know that I need to speak with him.”

“Sure,” She replied, “are you all right, Mr. Cooper?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” I said, “Thank you,”

Tabitha looked a little worried, but what was bothering me was not going to ruin her day. She took it in stride and moved around her work station, behind the counter. As I sipped my coffee, the students talked up a storm about the new book they had just received with the author’s name scrolled across the front end-sheet. By the time I finished my doughnut; Mark had come out from the office and noticed I was sitting by myself. He motioned to Tabitha for a cup of coffee, and then strolled over to my table.

“Hey Scott,” He said, as he sat down, “How is everything going?”

“Couldn’t be better,” I replied solemnly

“What’s the matter with you?” He asked, accepting the coffee from his daughter.

“I’ve been on the hunt for the past two months for the perfect birthday gift for Angela, and everything that I‘ve been able to come up with has been impersonal.” I replied, accepting another cup of coffee.

“What have you thought of?” Mark asked, taking a sip of coffee.

“The list would be shorter if I wrote down what I haven’t thought of yet.” I said, glancing at Heather who was talking with two students.

“Flowers are always nice,” Tabitha said, placing two chocolate doughnuts on to the table.

“I’ve thought of that, and yes I’ve ordered roses to be delivered on that day.” I said,

“What about jewelry?” Mark suggested, “I haven’t met a girl yet who doesn’t like a nice piece of gold.”

“Already tried,” I said ‘It just didn’t feel right; I want to give her something that will mean a lot to her, and she’ll never let go of it.”

“You want something from the heart…” Mark said,

“Yeah, and not based out of my wallet.” I replied, finishing his sentence.

“Let me think about this for a minute.” He said, “When is her birthday?”

“September fifth, I don’t have much time.” I said, almost pleading for help.

Tabitha walked by our table carrying two cups of coffee to a couple of students who sat two tables away. On the return trip, she stopped at our table and said, “It sounds like a romance novel. Man loves woman, woman is the greatest thing to ever happen to man and now man wants to show his appreciation by trying to find the perfect gift for his woman, and the whole time he’s searching, he never realized it was in front of him all along.”

 

I moved my gaze to Mark, and all he did was smile, I turned back to Tabitha, and replied, “What do you mean; it was in front of him all along?”

Her smile grew wider then she pointed to my chest, “It’s in here,” She said, tapping the area around my heart. “That’s the only thing that you can give her that won’t come out of your so-called wallet. The love you have for Angela cannot be beat by any other person that exists in your realm. So now you have to think of something that comes from your heart that only you can produce.”

“I’ve tried that and I’ve drawn a blank so far.” I said, mystified by her knowledge of life.

Tabitha looked at her father, shook her head and said, “I don’t know how you people got along without people my age to tell you about life,” and then turned to me, “What you do for a living, Mr. Cooper?”

Com’on Tabitha, you know what I do for work.” I said, “Stop playing games.”

Once again Tabitha shook her head , leaned down and grabbed a hold of my wrist and held in front of my face, “You write for a living to support your family, true?” she paused as I stared at my hand. “When you write, do you not put your heart and soul into your characters? You taught me in Creative Writing class, right here in the store, your characters take on a life of their own, do they not?”

“Very true, but I don’t see…” I said, and then the words faded away like the setting sun along the horizon.

“There you go Mr. Cooper, write Angela the best story you can come up with, and that will show her how much she means to you. Now that’s a present that truly came from your heart and not your wallet.” She said, and then let go of my wrist, while I stared at my hand, as if it was the first time I’ve ever laid eyes on it.

Tabitha was right, I had the gift the whole time and not once have I thought about a story for her. I looked back to see Tabitha’s smiling face, and she winked at me, before leaving our table. I turned to stare at my hand, and I heard a voice, in the back of my mind telling me to write the story that needs to be told. I dropped my hand into my lap, picked up the cup and drained it in one fluid motion.

 “Well that’s it then.” I said, placing the cup onto the table.

“What’s it Scott?” Mark asked.             

“I’m gonging to write Angela a story from the heart; something that she needs to know about.” I replied, “It’s funny though,”

“What’s funny?” Mark asked, taking a bite of his doughnut.

“It’s funny because it took a nineteen year old, your daughter mind you, to show me what needed to be done.” I said,

“There’s a reason why I named the store The Merlin’s Coven.” Mark said, “Magical things happen here.”

“I agree,” I said, then stood up, “I’m going home to start an outline.”

After we said our good byes, I made my way to the door and found my truck easily. The whole ride home, I contemplated the story that would be worthy for Angela. I thought about a new Dutch Winters story, but the research involved, I wouldn’t have time to write a complete novel. I needed something short, sweet, and conveyed the message of how I felt about her. The story lines flashed across my eyes like an electronic billboard in Times Square. I parked the truck in the driveway, picked up the notes I made on the ride home and walked into the house.  

 

After pouring a cup of strong black coffee, I walked into my study, sat down behind my desk, pulled out my note pad and blue pen from the center drawer. By the time the pen touched the paper, I had the storyline flowing out of me as if it were there the whole time waiting to be told. The pen flew across the paper, the struggles I usually experience between my pen and my brain worked in harmony for the first time.

 

Have you ever spent any time in line at a department store during the summer rush for back to school, it can be a night mere? Now that the rush is over I am now in search of the perfect birthday gift for my girlfriend, Angela, her big day is exactly one day over two months from the Fourth of July, and I have no clue what to get her. I checked every store I knew that she might like something from, but nothing caught my eye.

  Well, there I stood in line at precious Stone Jewelers in Orlando, waiting to be helped by a young woman who did not look to be any older than twenty-two….