Other than having received the standard greeting as he'd entered the church, no one had spoken to him or acknowledged his presence.
A week has passed
[…]
They had both slipped back from the edge - back to the ease and familiarity of being friends and partners.
Hey!
"Mayson was never a person to take a hint," her sister said with a sad smile. "You had to be blunt or she just continued on, happily believing that everyone was in the place she had designated for them."
She quickly tidied the few stray objects lying around her apartment and then set her table with a lacy cloth, candles, her plates with the hand-painted roses, her best silver, and two wine glasses.
Hmm… /squints eyes/
Then, she went to search her wardrobe for her most romantic, most alluring outfit.
Oooooh! The black one from the almost first date? The harem one? Lipstick?
As she watched, Mr Kent, carrying a bunch of mixed flowers and dressed in a black suit and a smart charcoal overcoat, walked under her window and let himself into his apartment.
Why is he bringing flowers back home?
Mrs McCreadie smiled. She hadn't seen that nice reporter, Lois Lane, since the day the murderer had been arrested.
I’m wondering. Did she see Lois leave? Or is it possible that Clark has her locked up in his apartment?
He smiled. He pushed forward the bunch of flowers he was holding.
Oh. Awwwwwww…
Clark slipped his other hand from his overcoat pocket and offered her a tin. "This is for Pannikin," he said. "The label says it's 'gourmet fish'."
His smile was endearingly self-conscious - if Mrs McCreadie had been twenty-five years younger, she probably would have invited him in and locked the door. If she'd been fifteen years younger, she might have considered it.
Yeah, but has she seen Lois in action? Then again, she is the better shot
"Clark. These are lovely, but please … I'm not the person you should be giving flowers to."
Just what Clark needs. A good kick in the rear end.
