The package arrived just before eight.
The knock on the door startled Sydney as she stood at the bathroom sink, washing her face. Glancing at her reflection in the mirror, she attempted to swallow a rush of panic. I If it's bad news, someone would call first, right/i She grabbed a towel and dried her skin, drawing in a deep, calming breath.
"Coming," Sydney called, breezing through the bedroom on her way to the front hall, retying the sash on her satin robe. After peering through the peephole, she unlocked and opened the front door.
"Hey there," the delivery man smiled, a wad of gum in his cheek. "Got a package for ya," he winked.
Relieved, Sydney smiled. "Thanks," she held out her hands expectantly.
The driver paused, looked her from head to toe and then placed the plain brown box into her hands, setting his clipboard on top.
"Just need your John Hancock on line twelve, sweetheart," he held out a pen, loudly chewing his gum and still grinning broadly.
"Are you always this cheery so early in the morning?" Sydney took the pen from his outstretched hand.
"Sure!" The delivery man boomed. "I'm always happy to deliver packages to beautiful women such as yourself," he accepted the clipboard as she handed it back, his eyes quickly darting to line twelve. "Thanks, Sydney."
"Thank you," Sydney nodded, backing into the apartment with the package under her arm. She reached to close the door.
"Hey," the delivery man took a step toward her. "You wanna get a drink sometime? With me?"
Sydney smiled pleasantly and glanced at the name sewn into the man's dark denim shirt.
"I'm flattered you asked, Dave, but..."
"Lemme guess," Dave jumped in, his grin fading slightly. "You have a boyfriend, right?"
Sydney nodded. i I'm not sure we've gotten quite that far, but okay /i "Yes, I do."
"Right, okay, got it," Dave took a step back, holding up his hands. "I thought I'd take a shot, though, you know," he tucked his clipboard under his arm. "I bet he's some kind of big shot, like a lawyer or one of those investment banker types, am I right?"
Sydney frowned. i Actually, Dave, he's a high-ranking assassin with one of the world's most dangerous terrorist organizations and also happens to be number three on the CIA's shoot-to-kill watch list /i "Something like that," she nodded and reached once again for the door. "Well, thanks for the package. I've got to finish getting ready for work."
"No problem there, Sydney," Dave stepped off the porch and gave her a wave. "Have a nice day, now."
"You, too," Sydney watched him walk back to his truck before closing the door. She leaned against it and glanced down at the package in her hands, studying the unfamiliar handwriting on the address label. Out of habit, she lifted the box to her ear and listened. It did not seem to be ticking, or to be making any other sound, for that matter.
Sydney walked into the kitchen and set the box on the counter. She studied the label more closely, noting that the return address was a shop in Paris, France. She had heard of the store but had never gone, and did not recall shopping there via the internet. Turning the box over, she tried to lift an edge of the packing tape with her fingernail just as the telephone began to ring.
"Hello?" Sydney cradled the phone with her shoulder and went back to work on the box.
"Did you check to make sure it wasn't ticking?"
Sydney couldn't help but smile. "What, are you spying on me?"
"I live next door. I certainly wouldn't be hard to do," Weiss reasoned. "Actually, I was outside getting my paper when the delivery guy showed up, but you were too busy flirting with him to notice me."
"I was not flirting with him," Sydney said with a grin. She peeled off a strip of tape and dropped it onto the counter top. Impatient with her progress, she opened a nearby drawer and grabbed a pair of scissors.
"That's not what it looked like from where I was standing."
"I thought you said you weren't spying on me."
"I never said I wasn't spying. I wouldn't be a very good spy if I admitted it, right?"
"So the whole getting the paper thing was just a ruse," Sydney slit the tape at the sides and then across the top of the box, carefully slicing through the address label.
"No, I really was getting my paper - and spying on you, all at the same time. I'm a multi-tasker," Weiss grinned. "So, what'd you order? One of those hard-boiled egg slicer things that they advertise late at night?"
Sydney set aside the scissors and opened the box. She was immediately treated to the aroma of lavender wafting up from many layers of pristine white tissue paper. She carefully sifted through the paper until she came to a small gold and white striped box and lifted it out, spilling tissue paper onto the counter top.
"Syd?"
"Uhm, it's nothing, really," Sydney's brow furrowed as she set the box down. It was elegantly tied with gold ribbon, and a white tag bearing the name of the French shop was attached to an ornate gold bow. "I was just doing some early Christmas shopping."
"Ah," Weiss said. "Just remember, my favorite color is blue and I'm allergic to wool." After being met with silence, Weiss frowned. "Syd? Is everything okay?"
"I'm fine," Sydney gently untied the bow and let the ribbon fall. "I've just got to finish getting ready. I'll see you at work, okay?"
"Sure thing, Syd."
They said their goodbyes and Sydney hung up, setting the phone aside before carefully lifting the lid off of the box. Pushing aside more white tissue, Sydney drew in a sharp breath at the sight of a beautiful glass bottle filled with small, coarse lavender-colored granules. A gold ribbon around the mouth of the bottle bore a tag that again stated the name of the French shop. The other side of the tag described the contents of the bottle.
"Sels de bain lavende," Sydney read aloud. "Lavender bath salts." She lifted the bottle out of the box, handling it gently, turning it over in her hands. It was tapered, narrow at the lip and wide at the base. Sydney suspected it was hand-blown and nearly as expensive as the salts it contained.
Sydney ran her fingertips over the corked mouth of the bottle, tempted to split the wax that sealed it and pour some of the salt into her hand. A quick glance at the clock across the room, however, and she knew she would have to wait. Before putting the bottle back into the box, she searched through the tissue paper for a gift card, quickly realizing there wasn't one.
Closing the box, Sydney smiled to herself. There was no need for a gift card.