Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Janet, I'm just having fun with them

PLUM FAMILY LOVIN'

Excerpt from Plum Lovin' by Janet Evanovich

The doorbell rang, and I heard Grandma hustle to get the door.

"Stephanie," she yelled up the stairs. "There's a flower delivery guy said two of these were supposed to go to your apartment, but I said you'd take them all here."

I went downstairs with Diesel following, and I took three boxes from Grandma.

The first box held a single perfect long-stemmed red rose. No card.

The second box held a dozen yellow roses. The message on the card was ... LOVE, JOE.

The third box held a bouquet of daisies. The hand-scrawled note said … VALENTINE'S DAY SUCKS, USUALLY.

Valentine's Day didn't suck this year, I thought.

I felt someone brush a kiss across the nape of my neck, and I turned to Diesel, but the only thing behind me was the cake plate on the bottom step.

"I thought he was locked up." My father said, startling me on his way to the kitchen to refill his old-fashioned glass.

"Who?"

"The wacko that was sending you those red roses … scaring you to death"

Who knew my father had even been paying attention? "Clyde's dead, Daddy." No need to mention that I'd killed him. That was such a traumatic time for me, just saying his name brought back the terror I had felt each time I received the anonymous red roses.

"Who the hell is sending you red roses with no card then?" My father wanted to know.

"I think it's probably Ranger."

"The Black guy with the earring?"

"He's Cuban-American." I reminded him.

"Yeah, the Sp…" My mother cut him off with a concerned glance into the living room where Angie and Mary Alice were fighting over the remote.

"Hispanic, Frank. He's Hispanic."

My father muttered something under his breath that I really didn't want to understand. "Thought he was supposed to be smart?" he continued.

"Ranger's very smart. He's one of the best bounty hunters in the country," I said proudly.

"Then why the hell is he sending you a red rose without a card? Doesn't he remember what you went through back then? My father's voice was rising. My mother was shushing him.

Well, that was a good question. Didn't he remember? He was the one who found me when I was cowering behind the desk in the TriBro test room. How could he forget that?

"Ask Joe to find out who sent it." My father told me.

"Joe's undercover." I hated when Joe went undercover. I held my breath every time the phone rang. Never knowing whether it would be him or, God forbid, his captain.

My father picked up the flower box. "Makrancy's." He turned toward my mother. "Helen, isn't that where Attilio's daughter works?" Attilio Di'Agostino was one of my father's lodge buddies.

"Christina?" My mother asked. "Yes, she was just promoted to assistant manager. Now that's a good job." She said, glancing in my direction.

My father headed for the kitchen, flower box in one hand, empty glass in the other. My mother sighed, "Your father doesn't often show it, but you know he loves you and he worries about you as much as I do."

Yes, I'd always known that. But still, I was surprised and touched by his concern. I picked up the yellow roses and inhaled their delicate fragrance. How sweet of Joe to remember that yellow roses are my favorite. Both Joe and my father were making me feel very special on this Valentine's Day.

I wished Joe were actually here though. Yellow is the happiest of all colors, but there was a sadness knowing that Joe was off somewhere alone. There was no doubt in my mind that he would have delivered the flowers in person, probably along with a bag of Boston Crèmes and he would have had that bone-melting grin on his face when he handed them to me.

I needed to get these in water and went to the china closet in the dining room to get my mother's best crystal vase. I found it way in the back of the middle shelf, but I had to move my mother's birthday angel collection to reach it. The awkward angle of the repaired wing on my Grandma Plum's September angel was a reminder of my 8 year old clumsiness, so I was very careful this time.

My father was hanging up the phone by the time I reached the kitchen sink to fill the vase for Joe's roses. Valerie was following me in behind me, with a stack of dirty cake plates.

"Stephanie, do you know an Ella?" My father asked me as he refilled his glass.

"Ella?" I repeated.

"Christina told Attilio that a woman named Ella ordered the rose and charged it to Rangeman, Inc."

"Rangeman, Inc.?" Valerie gasped. "Ranger charged the rose to his company? That's awful!!! Who's Ella?"

"She's Ranger's housekeeper." I said. Valerie was right, this was awful. I knew Ranger had Ella do all his shopping, but for Valentine's Day?? Maybe he didn't even ask her to it and that's why there wasn't a card. Maybe it wasn't that he'd forgotten Clyde. Maybe it was that he hadn't thought of me. He never called when he was out of town, so that was quite possible. Did it really matter? No! I decided. It didn't matter. "

Omigod! That's even worse!" Val screeched.

My mother and Grandma Mazur almost crashed into each other rushing through the kitchen door. The breeze caused by the door opening wafted the delicious aroma of the yellow roses into the air.

"What's wrong? Frank? Why is Valerie screaming?" My mother demanded to know.

"Jesus, what an ass!" my fathered muttered, gulping down a swig of his Crown Royal while making an escape into the living room. "Even I know better than that."

I'd thought for a long time that Ranger just kept his feelings to himself like my father. But it wasn't the same at all. My father had always had an emotional attachment with his daughters. One that Valerie and I had always felt, even if he never expressed it verbally.

"Ranger had his housekeeper order the rose for Stephanie and charged it as a business expense!!!" Val was horrified.

I sank down onto a kitchen chair as the realization hit me. That's probably all I really was. A line item on his budget. Entertainment.

"No!!" My mother said in disbelief, grabbing my father's bottle.

"What a horse's patoot!" Grandma Mazur exploded. "If that don't take the cake!"

"Cake," I mumbled, reaching for the vase and feeling the velvety smoothness of the yellow petals. Cake may be the base of my food pyramid, but Joe is the foundation of my happiness. Why had it taken me so long to understand that? I heard a phone ringing in the living room and my heart skipped a beat.

Mary Alice galloped through the door with my cell phone. She flipped it open as she handed it to me and I couldn't see the caller ID.

"Hello" I said with trepidation.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Cupcake!"

"Joe!!" Was I squealing? "Joe, I just love the yellow roses and I love just you."