Authors: Meredith Greene
“Thank you, Mr. Montgomery,” she said, turning to the painting again.
William hovered by her side.
“Please call me William,” he offered, hoping she would. Playing nervously with her drink, Michelle suddenly felt uncomfortable.
“Please don’t be insulted by this but... I don’t know you that well,” she said, glancing shyly at him. William’s brain whirred to come up with a good response to her frank reply.
“True,” he said. “Then, perhaps we could eat dinner together later; we can get to know one another better, and you can ask me all kinds of things.”
Michelle’s initial instinct was to refuse; however, she remembered it was normal for people to socially attend meals together. Had it been that long since she’d been out?
“Yes, it has,”
she thought. She wondered if the man was merely asking her out of pity.
“I’m not saying you look like you need to eat,” William continued, forestalling her. “I’ve already established that you look... lovely.” He watched her fair skin turn a deep rose color and liked it; she was beautiful. She looked as delicate as a flower and was obviously not used to compliments.
“I would love to,” Michelle said, unexpectedly; her voice was almost too soft to be heard. “I was going to eat after coming here; you can’t really enjoy this on a full stomach.” She lifted her hand and gestured towards the paintings.
Grinning, William nodded; he was elated at his success in procuring her company for dinner. Offering her his arm, he stepped closer.
“Shall we enjoy the paintings together?” he suggested, looking down into her eyes. Michelle blinked; she wondered what she’d done to deserve the undivided attention of this handsome, polite man. Part of her warned 'Rich man... he wants what all men want'. The other side of her said: ‘keep your wits about you but dream and hope all you like'.
Looking up at William, Michelle gently took his arm and smiled.
“I promise not to talk too much,” she said, her eyes shining.
“Rubbish,” William returned, “I would like you to tell me what you see him doing at each one. That was quite entertaining. I’ve never quite seen Monet in such a light.” Michelle shrugged a little.
“I’ve read his journals and the articles his friends wrote of him,” she said. “His paintings just seem to speak. When I look at them, Monet does not seem so intimidating, but is just an artist... you know, a fellow human being.” As she spoke, her lips curved into a half-smile. William saw Michelle possessed a single dimple; he thought it adorable. He wanted to reach up and brush it with his fingertip, but did not. Having finally found Michelle, William had no intention of scaring her off.
In the hours that followed no two people in the museum enjoyed themselves more than they. Their conversations were filled with more merriment than either had experienced for some time. Looking at Michelle as she reverently spoke of Madame Monet’s death, William was suddenly struck by the vast amount of time he spent in his office. This little slip of an American sketch-artist felt more passion about these paintings and knew more about them than himself, despite his careful education and the facilitating refinements of high society. So thoroughly was he entangled in his work, he’d been missing the very juice of life and all it had to offer. He could see life in Michelle’s eyes and longed to share it.
Lingering beside William, Michelle was envious of each couple she saw; they were able to go home with their respective companions, while she merely had the pleasure of William’s company for but a few, wonderful hours. Unwilling to let the opportunity pass her by, she reveled in every second and prodded herself to come a little more out of her habitual shell. As the minutes flew by, Michelle grew more comfortable talking with her escort, and managed to say mostly witty things; she did reminded herself not to dominate the conversation, for, years ago her grandmother had instructed her on talking to men:
“Don’t talk so much that you can’t learn a little. No one likes people who think they know everything.” Wise words they were, and Michelle applied them.
A few minutes after eight PM, Michelle looked up and saw that they stood in front of the last painting. Apprehension flooded her; she was about to go to dinner, with him… the man she’d watched walk by each day, the one she’d dreamed of, the unattainable man of her portrait; the man with the smile. However, unlike her fearful suspicions, William hadn’t rebuffed her; he sought her out and in lieu of the look of disgust she had once envisioned he had searched her eyes with interest and perhaps a little uncertainty.
William did not look uncertain now; he grinned and pointed towards the main entrance.
“Shall we?” he asked. Michelle thought they were the most beautiful words ever spoken. Nodding, she took his arm with a deep delight.
“Just for dinner...”
she thought,
“I can have a dear companion.”
At the coat check, she let William hold her overcoat for her. He, in turn, liked how his companion snuggled into its woolen depths; he was loath to cover up her form in such heavy layers but when Michelle put on her white hat and gloves, she looked so darling that the dim antechamber was brightened.
Outside, William signaled for a cab. Michelle tried not to look as excited as she felt; she loved riding in taxis. It was fun just being driven somewhere, let alone with a dashing acquaintance; it had been over a year since she’d been able to even think about taking one anywhere. William quietly observed her expression as the cab drew up.
“You’re all bubbly,” he said, smiling down at her. “You don’t even know where we’re going.” Michelle looked at him and smiled. Getting into the taxi, she scooted over so William could get in beside her.
“Oh, anywhere would be nice,” she replied, smiling at him. Then a thought occurred to her. “Except sushi,” she corrected, wrinkling her nose. William laughed.
“Good heavens… no,” he said, closing the taxi’s door. “At a party I may tolerate a bit of sushi, drowned out with a few tumblers of sake, but not by choice in this weather...” Michelle giggled a bit at his dismal tone.
“Ah, so you’ve been at a few ‘there’s-nothing-but-sushi’ parties,” she said. Grinning, William nodded.
“More than a few,” he commented. “For some reason most of Manhattan’s corporate party-planners are ardent fans of well-presented bits of raw fish.”
“Tonight kind of feels like hot soup and fresh bread night,” Michelle proposed, after a pause; she resisted the urge to lick her lips. Hunger had been building up in her since breakfast. William looked thoughtful.
“That suggestion is quite apropos,” he replied. “I know just the place.” He leaned forward and said something to the driver. Michelle didn’t catch it but the cab began edging into the traffic, despite some honks of protest from the vehicles behind.
Sitting beside one another the two felt oddly comfortable, even in saying nothing. William didn’t know if he’d ever met a more pleasant girl in his life. Glancing sideways at her, he watched as she sat serenely, hands folded in her lap; she looked out her window with rapt attention.
“How long have you lived in New York?” he asked, suddenly feeling curious. The investigative report he’d received on her did not include everything.
“Three years,” Michelle answered, turning to face him. William looked mildly surprised.
“You seem to enjoy the city like a tourist,” he remarked. Michelle’s eyes took on a doubtful look, as if she didn’t know what he meant by it. “It’s a compliment, Michelle,” William told her.
A slow smile spread over Michelle’s face.
“I wasn’t going to throw anything at you,” she replied, her eyes twinkling with mischief. William was very tempted to lean over and kiss her, she looked so attractive smiling. Michelle saw the intense look in his eyes and demurely dropped her gaze to her hands; her white gloves stood out nicely against the intense blue coat and its glinting buttons.
“This is pretty,” William commented, fingering the very edge of her coat sleeve. “Is it new?”
Michelle smiled to herself.
“If only he knew,”
she thought. Looking sideways at William, she decided to tell him.
“Well, it is, to me,” she said. “It was twelve dollars at the Good Will..” The latter part she whispered conspiratorially. Her companion’s eyebrows rose slightly. “It had a tear and missing buttons,” Michelle continued. “All it needed was a proper dry-cleaning and a little TLC.”
William liked seeing the more animated side of his guest and was rather moved by her pride in taking a cast-off coat and making it whole again.
“I’m impressed,” he said. Michelle caught the look in his eyes and saw he meant his words. A little bit of her pink dress peeked out beyond the coat sleeve. William drew his finger across it. “The dress too?” he asked, looking down at her face. He as rewarded by a deep blush from his guest, visible even in the darkness of the cab. Michelle nodded, dumbly; the flutter of William’s touch on her sleeve affected even her breathing.
“Wow...”
she thought, as he continued to finger her sleeve.
“He’s only touching my sleeve...”
“It’s lovely,” William said, interrupting her thoughts. Michelle willed herself not to blush again; she failed.
“Thank you,” she said, softly; she looked at his perfectly tailored, black wool coat. “You are always so well-dressed,” she accoladed, shyly. “You must shop at the Good Will, too.” William chuckled.
“Perhaps I should start,” he mused, not removing his hand from Michelle’s sleeve. “I must admit, you pull it off,” he continued. “No one would guess second hand; you’ve quite put your own little touches into it.” He fingered one of the silver buttons on her sleeve.
Michelle resisted the urge to throw her arms around William’s neck and kiss his face in gratitude for his compliments. Instead, she gave him a sweet smile and a soft 'thank you'. After a moment, something caused her to remember the elegant woman who'd accompanied William the last time she saw him... the day she'd yelled at him. Michelle looked up at William, a sudden look of concern filling her eyes.
“Your mother...” she began,“I hope she wasn’t offended by my behavior, you know that day... at my old corner.” William patted her arm, leaning a little closer to her.
“Please do not worry about it,” he said. “My mother was merely concerned about you. She hoped you were alright.” Michelle’s eyes held a far-away look.
“I don’t know what she must think of me,” she returned her voice a little sad. “She was so lovely.” William smiled.
“Ironically, she thought the same thing about you,” he said, his hand still on her sleeve. “You know, Michelle… if my mother had not been with me, I would have chased after you.”
His voice dropped lower as he spoke; Michelle met his gaze. The intense look was back in his deep, blue eyes. Michelle was suddenly very aware of how small the cab was, and how close she sat to this man, about whom she had entertained many a romantic notion. Taking a deep breath, she lifted her chin, slightly.
“I doubt you’d have caught me,” she said, hoping she didn’t sound too prim. William grinned; it was the smile of an over-confident teenager.
“Really?” he murmured. “It seems that I have caught up to you just fine.” Michelle’s eyes widened, then she scowled a little.
“Touché,” she assented. William chuckled, patting her gloved hand.
“I am very glad you agreed to come out with me,” he said. Looking into her eyes, William wondered if he should share some of his thoughts out loud. “After all...” he thought, “what good is this night if it’s wasted in shallow chatter?” She didn’t seem the type for that anyhow. William figured if he let her into his mind a little she’d either run away screaming or stick it out. He decided it was worth the risk.
“When I first saw you sitting on the sidewalk,” he began, sitting up a little more, “I was intrigued by your eyes, looking up from under that hat of yours.” A small smile graced Michelle’s lips, and William felt encouraged to go on. “I looked for you every day after that, but you never came back,” he continued, shifting in his seat a little.
Michelle searched William’s eyes carefully, as if weighing each one of his words. She swallowed her; this was all very interesting information. If William felt such freedom to communicate, she did not object to learning more of his thoughts.
William found it difficult to concentrate on his little ‘confession’ when Michelle’s clear, beautiful eyes were delving so deeply into his. He didn’t see any dark things in them... just the honest and pure thoughts of youth. The orchard-picnic vision popped up again as they rode along in the cab and even though William wanted to re-play it in his mind, he forced himself to keep talking.
“Even my mother asked about you,” he continued. “I cannot express my relief in seeing you again, tonight.” He looked into Michelle’s eyes fearlessly. This time William did not stop his hand from lifting up; softly, he tucked a stray piece of her hair back behind her ear.
Michelle had never wanted to be kissed so much in her life; she was blissfully drowning in the cobalt waters of William’s eyes. She watched his gaze drop to her mouth; momentarily, her lungs stopped working. William leaned a little towards her.
The cab abruptly halted, tossing both passengers forward, then back against the seat.
“Bloody hell!” William exclaimed. He turned to Michelle, putting his hand on her shoulder. “Are you alright?” he asked,; he almost broke out laughing. Michelle’s hat had slid forward over her eyes in the most comical fashion; she pushed it back off her face, her eyes wide. Seeing William’s face, she relaxed.
“I forgot about that aspect of taxi-rides,” she said.
The little window between the driver and backseat slid open.
“That’ll be $32.50,” the driver spat out; his hand reached through the window, the gloved fingers snapping expectantly. William's brow darkened; he’d been this close to tasting Michelle’s lips when they were so rudely interrupted. The driver’s attitude was typical of ‘cabbies’. William handed the money over and helped his guest out of the cab. The taxi sped off immediately, tires squealing.