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Delilah Darren clacked away on the loud, manual typewriter, trying to get Mr. Lloyd’s letter typed by 5:00 p.m. She had five minutes to get it typed, stamp his signature at the bottom, and get the letter in an envelope and mailed. She was on the last paragraph when a tall, voluptuous redhead with enough hair to play Rapunzel on Broadway bursts through the office door. She wore a snug sea green dress and black high heels. Most curious of all, she carried a silver tray of chocolate cupcakes piled high with fluffy pink icing. Delilah sighed with frustration upon seeing this pinnacle of femininity and continued to work on the letter.
“Excuse me. My name’s Katrina Carsile, and I’m looking for . . . um . . .” The woman’s brow wrinkled as though she was thinking harder than usual. She had a faint southern accent, a voice as smooth as margarine. “I’m looking for the man of the . . . office.” Without looking up from her work, Delilah pointed across the office to the door with Mr. Lloyd’s silver name plate.
“He’s very busy,” Delilah said. “I seriously doubt he has time for cupcakes.”
“Oh, there’s always time for cupcakes.” The redhead smiled knowingly. “Especially my cupcakes.” Delilah had to work to keep herself from retching. The mysterious woman swaggered to Mr. Lloyd’s door and knocked three times. Delilah wanted to watch the proceedings, but she also had to get the letter done and mailed. She heard Mr. Lloyd mumble something on the other side of the door. “Katrina’s Cupcakes, special delivery!”
Much to Delilah’s surprise and annoyance, Mr. Lloyd’s office door swung open, revealing the man himself—tall, dark-haired, ridiculously handsome. Delilah watched out the corner of her eye as she typed, disgusted with herself for being so curious.
“Hello. Can I help you?” Mr. Lloyd looked confused but not displeased by the fact that a gorgeous woman was standing at his door. With cupcakes, no less. Delilah couldn’t wait to hear the woman’s explanation for being here. She’d started typing the word “Sincerely,” when the redhead began singing in a low, breathy voice.
“Happy birthday, how are you?
I bet you’re hungry for a few
Delicious cupcakes. Chocolate cupcakes!
Made especially for you!”
Delilah cringed at the awfulness of the song. She figured when you’re that good-looking, you can get away with terrible songwriting. Mr. Lloyd didn’t seem to mind. A smile cracked across his stern face as Katrina volunteered to feed him a cupcake. Delilah fought the urge to vomit as she searched her desk drawer for the rubber stamp of Mr. Lloyd’s signature. Her heart leapt into her throat when she saw it was not in its usual place. She dug frantically through the drawer with no success.
“Mr. Lloyd, where is your signature stamp?” Delilah asked, not caring that his mouth was full of chocolate cake and Katrina’s perfectly manicured fingers. “If I don’t find that stamp, your letter is not going to go out on time!”
Lloyd mumbled something through a mouthful of masticated cake, but Delilah couldn’t make heads or tails of it. Katrina was no help, shoving another cupcake into his gaping maw. Delilah stormed toward the two and stomped her high-heeled foot against the wood floor.
“Excuse me!” She waved the unsigned letter in front of Lloyd and Katrina. “If I don’t get a signature on this in the next thirty seconds, your letter is not going out today. And just for the record, today is not your birthday. Your birthday was three months ago.”
“I think you’re mistaken, Delilah. And the stamp is on my desk. I borrowed today.”
“You borrowed your own signature stamp?”
“It’s faster.” Lloyd shrugged, licking pink icing off Katrina’s thumb. Delilah groaned and stomped into his office. Sure enough, the stamp was right there on his desk. She hastily stamped the signature onto the letter and shoved it into the envelope. With an exasperated sigh, she ran past the cupcake fiends and chased the postman down the hall, catching him just before he headed out the door.
When she returned to the office to gather her things, Mr. Lloyd and Katrina were still at it.
“Are you sure this is the right address?” she asked Katrina.
“Of course. Eighteen-hundred Sixth Avenue.”
Delilah couldn’t help but laugh. And as she laughed, the look of cupcake-induced ecstasy on Mr. Lloyd’s face slowly dissolved. Katrina’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. “What?”
“This is Eight-hundred Sixth Street. Sixth Avenue is on the other side of town.”
“Oh,” Katrina took a half-eaten cupcake out of Mr. Lloyd’s hand, placed it back on her tray, and turned to leave. “Sorry to have bothered you.”
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