Flowers

Previously: Jeannie and Chris say what needs to be said.

5:25 PM - Sunday, November 2, 2014

Nob Hill, San Francisco

The flowers at Whole Foods were picked over and wilted as they usually were on a Sunday afternoon. The only bouquet that looked healthy was a colorful mix of late summer dahlias, and those would be a bad idea. Jeannie ran to the cheese section to find some parmesan rinds; Chris’ grandma had taught her all about the magic of parmesan rinds, especially for making risotto. Just slip one into the stock as it simmers to impart that wonderful parmesan umami. Everything she needed seemed to have something to do with Chris. Coming back to check out she looked over the flowers again and grabbed a bunch of orange roses that looked fresh, even if overpriced. At least they wouldn’t hurt to look at. 

The Rossi family had always been in the flower business, owning a set of greenhouses in the Portola district since before the great earthquake. Knowledge of flowers was something many Lucchese brought with them from Italy; Lucca being uniquely situated in Tuscany, enjoying warm sun and soil, but near enough to the sea to keep crops cool. It was a climate similar to Northern California, but for the fog. Perhaps this was why so many Italians in San Francisco originated from Lucca.  

Chris’ grandfather and great-grandfather and on back would cut their blooms, fill a horse-drawn cart, and maneuver it across the south end of the city to park it at the corner of Kearny and Market every morning for decades, standing alongside other Italian and sometimes Chinese gardeners hawking their beauties to elegant ladies and smart businessmen. This corner, right across from Lotta’s Fountain, had always been the unofficial flower market for the city. When the official flower market finally opened in the mid-1950s, the Rossi’s were founding partners. Of course, there was the famous Angelo Rossi who became mayor of San Francisco, but he was a distant cousin of this branch of Rossis. This branch parlayed their profits from the florist business into real estate, buying up lots in the Outer Lands, Mission Bay, and full city blocks in the still-undeveloped areas south of Market Street. As the city expanded, their real estate valuation did too. Chris’ father always kept a colorized drawing of the flower carts at Kearny and Market in his office to remind him that his immigrant ancestors had gone from running a pushcart to owning a good chunk of the city in five generations. 

Kearny Street with Lotta’s Fountain in background.

Kearny and Market, outside of Old Chronicle building.

When Brandon and Chris were at Xavier together, Chris was always showing up at the Hagen house with flowers. They were usually from his Mom as a nice gesture — something to do with the endless amounts of blooms at the end of the week at the flower mart. Or maybe there was overstock of something due to a big wedding, or something was end of season and no florist would want it soon. Chris was always showing up with bundles of blooms that made Jeannie’s mother gush. Maevy’d arrange them and Jeannie would watch her, trying to figure out how she knew what to do.

Chris never noticed Jeannie. 

That changed one afternoon when she was 18 and newly graduated from Xavier herself. She came home from her summer job at Banana Republic to find the boys, plus Chris, playing video games in the family room. Used to being ignored by all of them, she said a general hello to the group and went to check her messages at her Mom’s desk in the kitchen nook, only to find Chris Rossi standing behind her, looking her over. 

According to Chris, this was when she entered his mind and never left.

“If it isn’t Jeannie Hagen,” he said quietly, draping a long arm in the door frame. She spun around.

“Well, if it isn’t Chris Rossi.” She said coolly. “I didn’t see you there.” She had seen him just fine.

“You’ve grown up.” She smiled a little.

“I hear you’re at Penn.” Her voice was low and soft.

“Just graduated. Starting Wharton in the fall. And then law school.” He had just summed up the next five years of his life to impress her. Chris was always perturbed that she didn’t seem impressed at all. She seemed…tolerant.

“Oh, so you’re brilliant?” She queried. He gave her a slow smile.

“Some of the time.” She raised her eyebrows in response and turned up the volume on the message machine. Her boyfriend, Matty Clark, was calling her about plans that night, giving her times and places. The thoughts she’d always had about Chris since she was 8 years old had disappeared once she started dating Matty in her junior year. She felt Chris’ eyes sweep over her again.

“You coming out with us tonight?” He asked. He told her later that they didn’t have plans to go out, but he was going to make them if she was willing to come.

“I’m underage.” She said simply. 

“We can go someplace that will let you in.”

“I have plans.” She gestured to the answering machine. 

“Hmm…too bad.” He said lightly, trying to change tack. “Can I give you some advice?” He offered, still smiling at her. She turned to look at him, annoyed that he was still standing there. She raised her eyebrows again. 

“Be careful with these boys, Jeannie. You’re gonna break some hearts.” He looked her over again, and didn’t try to hide his appreciation. She looked up at him steadily and licked her lips. She chuckled a little, knowing her dimple showed.  

“Think I’ll break yours?” She asked quietly in her low, smooth voice. She brushed past him out the door. 

Chris told her he replayed those 3 minutes for the next few days and weeks, years even, wondering what the hell had just happened to him. Chris said that it was 3 minutes later when Jeannie’s brother, Brandon, put an end to anything else happening to him where his sister was concerned.

“Okay, so, when did your little sister get gorgeous?” Chris had whispered to Brandon in the kitchen. 

“Dude. Do not even think about it. You make a move on Jeannie and I will kill you.”

At the end of August that summer, before they all went off to their respective schools, the Hagens invited the Rossi family over for dinner. Chris came in carrying two bouquets this time, one for Maevy, and one for Jeannie. For her, they were end of summer dahlias in every color. Jeannie was stunned and felt herself blush. She thanked him softly and went into the pantry to find a vase. Moving back to the sink, her mother came up next to her. 

“Chris Rossi?” Maevy whispered. Jeannie shrugged. Her mother smiled at her that was a mix of conspiracy and pride. “He’s quite a catch.” Jeannie scoffed.

“I didn’t think he knew I was alive.” 

They didn’t see each other again for almost seven years. 

At home, Jeannie went right to the kitchen to pull the pork out of the fridge and start the oven heating. She stuffed the orange roses into a vase and knew immediately that the roses and the vase and the way she put them in it were completely wrong. They were wrong, but it was too much to think about how to make them look better. Her brain was melted. The intense morning, the fight with Chris, the lovemaking with Chris. She felt pulled and stretched, fatigue simmering below her surface. She had to shower before anything else.

The hot water started and so did her tears all over again. She sobbed, forehead against the cool tile wall, letting it come. Her body shook as she tried to catch her breath. She only had a few minutes. When you leave this shower you will be fine again. 

She dried off, blew out her hair and put on a scant amount of makeup to look normal enough. She popped into her father’s den to say hello and let him know she was going to be making dinner.  His eyes assessed her and she knew he saw everything. 

“You should know that Chris is coming too — Brandon played golf with him this morning and apparently invited him.” Jeannie shrugged. Her father raised an eyebrow, asking everything without saying anything. “It’s fine. I ran into them at the Balboa - I went with the team once we finished this morning.” Jeannie faltered, wanting to tell him more. “Chris and I spent some time together after and we had a terrible fight. I think it’s better now, but…but we’re kind of hanging by a thread.” She felt the tears again as she said it, and shoved them down. “It’s - it’s just a lot right now.” Her father nodded slightly and opened his palm. She took it and squeezed his hand. 

She went into the kitchen and was pleased that only Fergus was in there, on his bed in the corner. She turned on some jazz and put the porchetta into the oven. She prepped her mushrooms and measured out the rest of her prep for the risotto. The kitchen was dated but warm, and she always loved it because it was the last kitchen her mother had cooked in. Her parents gave up the house in Jordan Park just a few years before, knowing they would want something all on one level, with less chores to do. The Park Lane had an opening, and they took it, even if the kitchen probably needed a bit of a renovation. Still, it felt homey and comfortable. They had already lived here two years when her mother was diagnosed with cancer. 

Jeannie kept a photo of her mother above the stove. She always thought of her mother when she cooked, it was like she was standing there telling her all the things she was doing wrong, but how to correct them too. She wondered what she thought of her current situation with Chris. Maevy had always had a very soft spot for the charming Chris Rossi, and loved when the two of them finally started dating. She seemed to think it was fated somehow, and everyone knew Maevy was never wrong. Jeannie pulled down her mother’s binder of recipes to double-check the risotto process, although she knew it backwards. Somehow, reading it over on her mother’s stationery with her commanding “MFH” monogram at the top in navy blue seemed to make it more solid, easier to do. 

Jeannie poured the arborio into the large Le Creuset on the stove and let it toast a little with the onion and fennel. She pulled a votive candle off of the kitchen table to light it, placing it next to her mother’s photo above the stove. She needed her mother right now, but a few more quiet minutes to stir the rice would work too.