Authors: Meredith Greene
“You like it?” came Sophie’s voice; she stood next to Michelle.
“Very much,” Michelle answered, still looking at it. “You love this place.” Sophie’s eyebrows arched a little.
“Yes, carina... I was a little girl there.” The lady seemed to overcome her surprise quickly. “You have some gift to see that.”
“You should have seen her at the Monet showing,” William said, suddenly. He stopped directly behind Michelle and looked at the painting. “She told me right where he’d thrown a tantrum about not getting his lunch.”
Sophie threw back her lead and laughed.
“Yes! I can see that! Monet... very excitable,” she said, shaking her head a little. Putting down her palette, Sophie cleaned her brush quickly she glanced sideways at William and then at Michelle. “A pretty one like you should be married with many sweet babies by now,” she said, casually. Michelle felt her face turn red.
“Ah,” she began.
“I should introduce to you my Luca,” Sophie continued, smiling. “I think you are just his type.”
William’s posture stiffened a little at the suggestion. Luca D’Angelo was notorious for his ability to woo the area women, though his taste did not usually run to sweet innocents.
“Hang on there,” he said, clearing his throat. “She is definitely not his type. Luca likes silicon-enhanced blonds with too much spending money.”
“She is just his type!” Sophie said, placing her hands on her hips. “He just does not know it yet. This carina would be a good, sweet wife for him and maybe I would finally get grand-babies!” William raked his hand through his hair.
“What is it with the grand-babies?” he asked, of no one in particular. “Stop trying to set Michelle up; she's not available.”
Sophie blinked at him.
“I do not see a ring on her finger,” she said, plaintively. William gave the older lady a look which conveyed several things.
“I’m not engaged, ma’am... but I’m not looking,” Michelle interrupted, still blushing. “Thank you, anyway.” Did they think she wasn’t there? Talking about her getting married and having children. She wanted that, alright but who talked about people like they were a potential daughter-in-law? She wondered if perhaps it was a trait of women over fifty years of age.
Margaret silently took in the scene with a satisfied grin. To her, Sophie was an angel to egg William on like she was; it was just the encouragement he needed.
“Now, now... Sophie, let’s not pester William’s little friend,” she said, pretending to intervene. “Just let us know what time to show up tonight.”
“I didn’t know we were going out for dinner,” William said, turning to his mother. He looked carefully for signs that Margaret was up to something. The fact that he saw none confirmed his suspicions.
“Oh, yes... forgot to mention it,” was Margret’s light reply. William grimaced. “Sophie is having her annual dinner party and told her we’d love to come. Don’t give me that face; I know you’ll come if I drag Michelle there. Don’t worry; I told Alfred to pack your good suit.”
“What kind of dinner party?” Michelle asked, paling a little; she wished she’d brought her pink gown. Sophie beamed.
“Oh… dinner, dancing… you know,” she said, taking Michelle’s arm and walking a few steps. “It is so fun to actually use the ballroom.”
“Ballroom?” Michelle asked, weakly. “Uh, I’m a terrible dancer...”
Sophie laughed.
“Everyone says that,” she said giving Michelle a catlike grin. “You will be a lovely ornament to my table. You will come, no?” Glancing back at William, Michelle saw him slightly nod his head. She gave Sophie a small smile.
“I’d be honored to, ma’am,” she said. The delighted smile on Sophie’s face flattered Michelle very much; she wondered how these people could be so starved for company.
“Call me Sophie,” she said, keeping her hold on Michelle’s arm. Turning to William, the Italian woman fixed him with a victorious smile. “I would like to borrow your little friend for an hour or so, William,” she said. It was more of an announcement than a question, Michelle noted. “Margaret will want to come, I think? We must show Michelle Marcie’s place. She will know what to do with her…”
Not wanting to leave William Michelle thought furiously in order to come up with a good excuse not to go; nothing came to mind. Margaret clapped her hands.
“Oh, yes!” she agreed, dimpling prettily. “Girls only. William, if you need something to entertain himself with, I’m sure I can think of something...”
“That is unnecessary madam,” William said, frowning down at his mother. “I am no errand-boy and perfectly able to occupy myself for an hour.” He emphasized the last part as if they were allowed only an hour. Margaret gave her son an innocent smile, which he didn’t believe. He glanced at his watch. “Very well; I’ll wait 'til two PM, and then I’ll come looking for you.” At this, Sophie and Margaret both giggled which disturbed William a little. “Well, off with you then, I have some things to take care of anyway,” he mumbled.
Stepping close to Michelle he leaned down and kissed her on the cheek.
“Help me,” she whispered, very quietly. William chuckled.
“Be strong,” he said, kissed her again. “You’ll do fine; just say ‘no thank you’, repeatedly.” He watched Michelle being led away, Sophie on one arm, Margaret on the other; he shook his head, smiling. They’d be nice to her, of that he had no doubt, but he wouldn’t trade places with her for anything in the world. Whistling, he put on his coat and exited the gallery on a mission of his own.
Marcie’s Shoppe turned out to be a gown boutique, boasting actual, armed guards.
“It’s for the patrons,” Margaret whispered, when she encountered Michelle’s surprised expression.
“Oh,” was all the young woman could say. Marcie turned out to be a middle-aged clothing designer, impeccably dressed in a pink silk suit-dress and pearls. While the other women exchanged pleasantries, Michelle looked around. She looked at the long gowns hanging in well-lit alcoves and wondered why they were there. Perhaps Margaret needed a dancing dress. Overhearing Sophie and Marcie’s conversation, she realized they were discussing which dress
she
should be trying on.
“I already have a diner dress,” Michelle protested. “I didn’t come here to buy anything.”
Sophie and Margaret exchanged a look.
“I am certain you didn’t, my dear,” Margaret said, soothingly. “Sophie and I both wanted daughters to dress up, but fate had other ideas. You’re not going to spoil our fun are you?” Michelle bit her lip, inwardly vexed she could not think up a good answer to that.
“You’ll look lovely, carina; we will take care of you,” Sophie purred, happily. Closing her eyes, Michelle stopped protesting and allowed herself to accept a pile of gowns to try on.
Standing in the beautifully-decorated fitting room several minutes later, the dresses appeared even lovelier. Venturing a look at one price tag Michelle almost passed out and didn’t look again. After trying on and modeling several gowns Michelle spied a dress that stood out from the others. Dyed a deep, rich green it hung on the slender wooden hangar like a silent plea to be worn. Slipping the dress on Michelle felt relieved that it even fit, though ‘fit’ seemed hardly the word; the soft material clung to her upper body right until about mid hip where it fell away into a perfect circle of a skirt. The hem just touched the top of her foot. With the right heels it would look gorgeous.
Turning around Michelle caught a glimpse of herself in the fitting room mirror and let her mouth fall open. She almost didn’t recognize herself; the beautiful gown looked like one that a famous ballerina would wear to a ball. The neckline was a bit dramatic, but Michelle liked it all the same; it sliced down her shoulders in a round circle, kept on by some stiffened material in the decoupage hem. The sleeves fitted tightly until reaching Michelle’s elbow, where the material loosened and ended in a kind of short, plain ruffle.
“Well, come out, dear… let us see it,” came Margret’s voice from outside the fitting room.
Taking a deep breath, Michelle stepped out. Sophie smiled very wide at the sight of the young woman; Margaret clapped her hands.
“Oh, that’s the one!” William’s mother said, her eyes shining. “You look absolutely gorgeous! Such a lovely figure you have, my dear.” Sophie stood and walked around her, reaching out to tug on Michelle’s sleeve a little.
“Yes… it will do very well, I think,” she said, eying it critically. “Can you breathe alright?” Michelle nodded, feeling a bit silly. It felt as if she was playing dress-up; there was no way she could afford this gown. “Yes, you look like a woman in that,” Sophie said, looking satisfied. “Marcie… we like this one.”
Michelle opened up her mouth to object but was interrupted before she could utter a single syllable.
“Now, I don’t want to hear a word about it,” Margret’s sunny voice ordered.
“Does anything rattle this woman?”
Michelle thought, her eyebrows rising a little.
“As far as I’m concerned,” Margaret continued, “I still owe you for that portrait. Five dollars, indeed... it was grossly undervalued, in my opinion.”
“A very good piece of art,” Sophie agreed, nodding sagely.
Michelle crossed her arms and put on what she hoped was a severe expression.
“You brought me here knowing I’d protest and you’d put on the motherly guilt,” she accused. The women around her laughed, including Marcie. Sophie spoke up.
“You cannot win, carina,” she said, slyly. “I suggest you accept the dress from Margaret and wear it tonight. You would want to look nice for William… no?” Michelle closed her eyes.
“Unfair,” she said, quietly. The ladies laughed again; their merriment sounded victorious. Michelle sighed and caught a look at herself in the full length mirror. It really was a stunning gown. “I must admit, Marcie, this is the prettiest dress I’ve ever seen in my life.”
The designer bowed a little, looking pleased at the compliment.
“I am so glad you like it,” she said. “It is one of my favorite creations.”
“Now it just needs shoes and some jewelry to go with it,” Margaret said her smile radiant. Michelle bit her lip and made a face that the other woman found most amusing.
IN THE township square William wandered among the apple baskets and craft booths, drinking a cup of hot cider. These town folk could really put on a festival, he thought. He remembered how Michelle had enjoyed her sparkling cider--that night at the Monet showing--and resolved to pick up a gallon to take back to his mother’s. As much as he didn’t like being parted from his lady for an hour, he knew it was good for Michelle to mingle and socialize a bit. Sophie’s remarks about Michelle being perfect for Luca rankled with him a little. He resolved to stick by Michelle's side like glue all evening.
As string of nearby shops caught his eye. Handing his empty mug back to the cider-girl, William strolled over to the boutiques. One in particular made him smile. He went in to the door marked ‘Tiffany & Co’. Inside, a short black-haired woman in ebony-rimmed glasses surveyed him with a smile.
“Sir?” she intoned. William grinned a little sheepishly; no use letting her guess why he was there.
“I want to ask the sweetest, most beautiful girl in the world to marry me,” he said, making it quite clear. The woman beamed.
“How refreshing to know exactly what to show you,” she said, still smiling. “This way, sir.”
Several chairs sat around the showroom, robed in black velvet with high tables in between them. William sat down, the sales-woman hovering near him. From out of nowhere, a girl appeared with a tray of espresso. Taking one, William placed a folded bill on the tray.
“Please describe her to me,” the sales-woman said. “Have you bought her jewelry before?” William took a sip of the coffee.
“No,” he admitted. “But, I know her relatively well.”
“I should hope so,” the lady said, raising an eyebrow at William.
“Her name’s Michelle,” he began. “She’s an artist; she likes simple things. She has the most unusual eyes...”
The woman made careful notes as William described Michelle’s hair color and eyes, her skin and her manner. When he was done, the sales-woman looked thoughtful for several moments before disappearing into a back room. She returned with two, large black-velvet cases. Arranging them carefully on the table, she opened them one at a time. Sitting on specially designed holders, ten engagement rings lay displayed in each box, all quite stunning. Leaning forward, William looked at each one in turn; a particular stone winked at him in the soft light and he pointed it out. The woman nodded.
“I thought so,” she said, smiling she put a glove on and selected the ring carefully. Giving William a glove to put on, she handed the ring to him. The band was comprised of platinum shaped in a slender fashion, simple and elegant with no embellishments. What most struck William was the color of the stone; the large gem seemed remarkable in its hue... so very similar to the shade of Michelle’s lovely eyes.
“This is perfect,” he said, looking up at the woman. “I’ll take it.” The saleswoman nodded and snapped the cases closed.
At 2PM exactly William sauntered back into the gallery, whistling. The Tiffany box sat hidden in his coat pocket, like a little bulge of pure confidence. He simply couldn’t believe he’s found such a perfect ring for Michelle. Maybe there was something to this shopping thing. Now, if only his mother could find things so easily. His steps halted suddenly, the tune dying in his mouth. Sitting in chairs before him, sipping tea, sat his mother, Sophie and Michelle, apparently waiting for him. Michelle saw him and perked up immediately, causing his mum to look over. She smiled mischievously.
“Ah, William!” she said, loudly. “I see you decided to join us.”
“Yes,” Sophie said, sipping her tea delicately. “We have been waiting some time for you to show up.” Michelle hid away a smile in her napkin. William looked so funny standing there with his mouth agape. Recovering quickly, the man gave his mother a narrow look and leaned down, dropping a kiss on her cheek.