Fall in love in a weekwe get by

There was no need to decide. I had just taken my first sip when I heard the melodious ringing of bells from the living room. And what could it be? I went out to look, and a narrow yellowish envelope flew up to me, faintly smelling of lilies of the valley. I extended my hand, the envelope fell onto my palm like a trusting bird and opened.

“Dear Sally, I’m expecting you today at two o’clock in the afternoon. Dougal and some of his friends will be there. I think you'll fit in well with the company.

Sabella."

Not a word about the birthday. So, there is no need for a gift. Sabella is not in the mood for a holiday, that’s understandable. Dougal, several of his friends – and I, as the last hope for a miracle.

The clock struck half past twelve. I fell asleep! The sleeping pills in Norwood's mixture are indeed effective. It's okay, I'll make it in time. Thanks to the portals and my gigantic order at Grisella’s salon on the first evening – there were several very elegant blouses, I’ll choose the most frivolous one. And black formal trousers, for contrast. And your hair… maybe put it in a ponytail? A compromise between a working, strict bun and a loose mane. In total, it will take at most half an hour to get ready. You can slowly drink a second mug of coffee… and think about Dougal and yesterday.

So, one wonders, why did I flare up so much in response to his remark about Applestone? After all, in fact, he said correctly: the tables in the office are not for students to sit on, and it was also not the place to discuss plans for the weekend.

This means that it was not the words that hurt, but what stood behind them. Dougal's thought is that it's not Applestone who's hitting on me, but that we're discussing joint plans. Or the fact that I didn’t even understand how he himself reacted to this option? He doesn't care – or does he?

“Well, well, Sally, you’re already hoping for jealousy,” I looked into the cup and thought: “Are they telling fortunes on coffee grounds here?” This seems to be the only way for me to guess what Dr. Norwood is hiding behind his impenetrable work façade. Because my ability to read faces doesn’t work with him, and to get him to open up is easier to make Maskelyne dance a jig on the buffet table. Only if he wants to. It's like a desert island. It was definitely revealing. And… cute? I think, yes. It is unlikely that he shares his dream with just anyone.

So why did you share it with me? Or with Charlotte? Did I really dream or not that he realized I was not her?!

But what else is interesting – how did Applestone’s survey go? I cried violently, but perhaps not long enough. Certainly not the hour and a half required to properly drive a careless student. One of two things – either Norwood got away with a short survey for the sake of it, or he quickly and cruelly failed Applestone and advised him to spend the weekend not on palm trees and mojitos, but on repeating what he had learned. I'll bet a hundred to one on the second.

And then you decided to bring me a bag? Why suddenly?

No, I don't understand. There are some pieces missing in this puzzle.

I looked at my watch, finished my coffee and, out of some hooligan impulse, turned the cup on the saucer upside down. This seems to be the way they do it. There is no point in guessing now, and there is no time, but you can ask Sabella. I'll come back and see what happened there.

I got dressed, tied up my hair, and put on light, almost invisible makeup. I think I look good. Before leaving, I went out into the front garden and cut flowers for Sabella. A simple, not too formal bouquet – pink, purple and white phlox and a few sprigs of asparagus. I don’t want to come to her completely empty-handed, but this… this is not a gift, just a sign of attention, right?

I looked at my watch again – it was exactly two in the afternoon. I imagined Sabella's living room and opened a portal.

The room turned out to be quiet and empty, but there was no need to look for the hostess or look around. Almost immediately I heard light footsteps and I saw Sabella. Today she was wearing a soft, surprisingly summer dress, muted lilac, and she smiled as usual – softly and calmly. Only there were noticeable shadows under the eyes, either Sabella did not pay attention to them, or did not consider it necessary to hide them.

“I’m so glad you came, Miss Blair,” she said with a barely noticeable hesitation. I held out the bouquet and answered, accepting the rules of the game:

– Thank you for the invitation, Miss Norwood. Sorry, I… I thought the gift would be inappropriate. And flowers suit you.

– Thank you. “So you knew,” Sabella nodded and added a little quieter: “I can even guess where.”

– From one chatty ghost. I'm really glad you called me. Otherwise today would be a very sad lonely Saturday.

From somewhere deep in the house, a simple glass vase flew into Sabella’s hands, filled with water and sat on a low table. Sabella placed my bouquet in it and straightened out the delicate asparagus branches. Asked: