October 18th was Sweetest Day. Quite frankly, I didn’t expect to get anything since the hubby and I were at a writers’ conference in New Jersey. After all, we were hundreds of miles away from home and had dropped a few hundred dollars to travel to this conference where I got to meet with my editor and participate in my first book signing, which I talked about last week. So, I had resigned myself to 2013 being the first Sweetest Day, since we started dating as high school juniors, that I would not receive a Sweetest Day gift on Sweetest Day.
Sneaky devil that he is, Hubby played right into my acquiescence, agreeing with me that the conference was going to be this year’s gift, even though chocolates, flowers, or jewelry have been the norm on this celebration. I was not even expecting a Sweetest Day card, since he admitted he’d forgotten to buy one.
As we prepared for the book signing something arrived for me.
A giant bouquet of flowers.
With a note that read, “To my favorite author. Love…”
Only minutes before the book signing opened, my husband had me nearly in tears over an unexpected Sweetest Day gift. His record of 47 years of continuous Sweetest Day gifts remains unbroken.
While checking out the next morning, I carried the bouquet out to the hotel lobby desk and a young desk clerk asked, “Are you Ms. Castle?”
“Yes,” I said. “Why do you ask?”
“The flowers,” he replied. “When did they arrive?”
“Just before the book signing yesterday afternoon,” I told him.
“I was so nervous they wouldn’t come, because I recommended that florist,” he said. “They were supposed to arrive at the lunch break. Your husband was so cute. Every time you two walked by the desk he would look at me to see if they’d arrived.”
We must have passed the lobby desk a dozen times that day, and I was absolutely clueless. Not a hint that he’d planned such a romantic gesture.
But that’s what he does.
All the time.
Is it any wonder why I write romance?
What did you get for Sweetest Day?