I just thought that you and I must be a strange sort of family,” mused Eleanor, curling her fingers into the warmth of the quilt.
“How lucky I am to have you,” whispered Albert, pulling his wife closer.
“And Im happy to be with you!” she replied, nestling against him.
“Who else would I be with?” He chuckled, breath warm against her ear. “Only you. Youre my fate. The best woman in the world.”
Eleanor said nothing, only pressed a kiss to his cheek before slipping away to the kitchen, where the scent of baked apples and cinnamon curled from the oven.
Tonight, the Harringtons celebrated their silver anniversary, though the gathering was modestjust the two of them and their children. There were two: James, a sixth-form student, and their daughter, Imogen.
Imogen had recently graduated from university, secured a job in London, and moved into her own flat, despite her mothers protests.
“Why waste money on rent?” Eleanor had fretted. “Youve got your room here, were a happy familywhy leave? Wait until you marry, then move out properly.”
“Mum, I love you and Dad dearly, and I know youd never push me out,” Imogen had said, laughing, “but I want to try living on my own. And dont take this the wrong way, but your cooking is too good. You stay slender as a reed, eating all those pies, but I didnt inherit your metabolism. If I stay, Ill balloon like a Christmas pudding!”
Eleanor had smiled. Imogen looked nothing like her. Eleanor was petite, almost frail, with a face so plain she was often mistaken for a schoolgirl from behind. She wore no makeup, tied her hair in a simple ponytail, dressed in unremarkable jumpers and skirts. Imogen, thoughImogen was striking, taking after her father.
Albert was a handsome man. Tall, broad-shouldered, though age had softened his edgeshardly surprising, given Eleanors baking. Even at fifty, he turned heads.
Eleanor had long grown used to whispers behind her back. She paid them no mind. To Albert, she was the most beautiful woman alive.
***
When Eleanor met Albert, she was twenty, he twenty-two.
That September afternoon, university student Ellie had been on her way to a friends birthday party when she stopped at a florists for a small bouquet. Inside, the only customer was a young mantall, golden-haired, absurdly handsome. The shop assistant, a pretty girl with flushed cheeks, hovered near him, suggesting arrangements with a bright, eager smile. Ellie glanced at him and understood the girls eagerness. He looked like he belonged on a film screen.
Just then, he turned and spoke to her.
“Miss, which do you preferthese red roses or the peonies?”
Flustered, Ellie stammered, “Id choose the peonies, though most girls like roses.”
“Are they for your girlfriend?” the assistant asked him.
“My girlfriend?” He laughed. “No, I dont even know the girl theyre for. My mates dragging me to his cousins birthday. Couldnt show up empty-handed.”
Ellie suggested roses.
“Do you like them?” he asked suddenly.
She blushed. “I prefer wildflowers, but roses are lovely too.”
“Wildflowers? Now thats interesting.” His eyes lit up. “My mother picks them near our cottage. Theres a meadowbluebells, daisies, buttercups. Theyre humble things, but if you look closely, theyre extraordinary.”
He left with roses, flashing Ellie a smile.
“What a looker,” sighed the assistant. “Like a film star.”
“Exactly what I thought,” Ellie admitted.
At the party, she nearly dropped her drink when she saw him again. His name, it turned out, was Al, and hed come with his friend Arthur, the birthday girls cousin.
Al spent the evening stealing glances at Ellie. When music played, the birthday girlEllies friend Beatricepulled him to dance. He shot Ellie an apologetic look. Later, he walked her home.
The next day, Beatrice ignored Ellies greeting.
“Did I do something wrong?” Ellie asked.
Beatrices eyes flashed. “Arthur brought Al for me. Id seen his photosfancied him. And you had to flirt with him all night, didnt you?”
“I didnt”
“Oh, please. What does he even see in you?”
That evening, Ellie studied herself in the mirror and sighed. “Whod want me?”
The phone rang. It was Al.
They met by the Thames. He was waiting with a bouquet of wildflowers.
Their romance began. No one believed it would last. A man like him, with a girl like her? Impossible.
A year later, they married.
Ten years in, Ellie finally asked, “Why me? You couldve had anyone.”
Albert looked baffled. “How do you explain falling in love? But if you insistyour eyes, your voice, your soul. To me, youre the most beautiful woman alive. Youre like those wildflowers you love. Not everyone sees it. I did. And Id never trade you for any rose.”
***
Their anniversary dinner was quiet, warm. James and Imogen said kind thingsthe best gift.
A vase of wildflowers stood at the tables center. Albert always gave them to heron her July birthday, on their anniversary.
That night, as they lay in bed, Ellie murmured, “Albert, Ive been thinkingwe must be a strange sort of family.”
“Why?”
“In twenty-five years, weve never once quarreled. Is that normal?”
“Would you like to?” He grinned, tickling her ribs.
“No, no!” She shrieked, squirming away.
“Then neither do I.” He kissed her. “Strange is perfect.”
