Draw Me A Picture (10 page)

The food kept Margret’s stories to a minimum; Michelle did not encourage her, though she was sorely tempted. It was strange to think of William as a child, as a mischievous, little “ripper” with dirt on his face and snails in his pockets. Stealing glances at him Michelle inwardly laughed; every time his mother spoke frustration evidenced itself on his face, giving way to embarrassment soon after. He made valiant attempts to change the subject several times; Michelle decided to give him a hand.

“Have you lived in Vermont long?” she inquired of Margaret, as the older woman paused to sip her coffee. Margaret patted her lips daintily with her table napkin.

“No; only a few years,” said she, giving Michelle a kind smile. “Originally, I purchased the property to remodel and sell  quickly but when William was promoted to junior partner, I knew trans-Atlantic flights to visit London would be too much for his busy schedule, or for my health.”

“You moved to another country... just to be near William?” Michelle felt a little surprised at such devotion, wondering if the woman was unable to let go.

Margaret nodded.

“Do not misunderstand me, my dear,” she answered, sagely. “I wanted to see my son more than once a year. I love my home in London... however, Vermont is growing on me, I must say. Some of the ladies nearby even play bridge and seem enthralled to have me in their set. The air is sufficiently dry, the winter is manageable and the fall colors... simply breathtaking.” The older woman sighed and gazed out a nearby window.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, as if struck by a thought. “I have the most wonderful idea! William, why don’t you and Michelle drive up and visit me? The leaves have just turned and are nearly at the most beautiful stage. There is an apple festival coming up and a fabulous farmers market; my chef, Jean-Claude is simply wild about it...”

William interrupted his mother’s soliloquy.

“My dear madam, Michelle has her work... and I do not know if I can procure any time off right now. There are rumors of an upcoming merger...”

“Pish!” Margaret interposed, with a flip of her hand. “There are always rumors of mergers; you have been working at that office for six years solid, seven days a week without a proper holiday. I can barely get him for one day at Christmas,” she said, aside to Michelle. “Don’t tell me you haven’t racked up the vacation days. And Michelle, have you ever seen Vermont in the fall?”

Michelle felt unwilling to be pulled into the matter.

“Uh... no, but I...” she began.

“Wonderful!” Margaret stated, happily. “You’ll simply adore it, my dear. I am dying for you to see your picture all framed in its nook. There are so many things to do around the little town. I’ve a few friends who’d like to meet you very much. Now, I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer. Tell me what weekend you’re free and I’ll arrange things.” Margaret looked very pleased with herself; she set her coffee cup down on its saucer as a sort of final gesture.

“No promises, Mother,” William said, gravely, raking his hand slowly through his hair. Taking work off was no joke. There were indeed rumors circling around the upper offices of a possible buyout of the firm, which meant new owner and perhaps layoffs. Not to mention preparing for the possible merger he spoke of; an especially complicated and delicate matter, it hung like a dark cloud over his entire floor. He glanced over at Michelle. The young woman looked down at the table with a rather blank expression; she appeared to be racking her brain for a good excuse not to go. Her apparent confusion was not lost on William; he knew that she hated to be pitied or extended charity. Perhaps she simply did not wish to go.

“She’s out with us now,” he thought, looking at her expression intently. “She’s enjoying herself, and she had a good time with me last night at dinner...” Without a doubt Michelle had enjoyed herself last night; he’d seen it all over her face the entire evening. Perhaps his mother’s suggestion had merit. A long drive in his tiny roadster would allow them hours of uninterrupted conversation. Perhaps even a picnic. William shook his head slightly. Michelle had not even agreed to the idea yet, no matter what his mum had decided. He would find out later what his young companion really wanted to do.

Absentmindedly, Michelle arranged her fork and knife on the empty plate. She glanced over at William; he seemed thoughtful, though a slight smile curved one side of his mouth. He was a perplexing man to read, she decided; yet, the enigma of William also seemed intriguing. She longed for the time and opportunity to figure him out. The idea of imposing on Margaret weighed on her, but such a trip with William would give them plenty of time to talk and get to know one another better. William’s silence on the issue worried Michelle a little; perhaps he felt burdened by the idea. She was resolved to say nothing about it unless he brought it up. Taking a folded ten-dollar bill from her skirt pocket, Michelle started to fold the origami bird in her lap. Finished, she put it slyly behind her water glass; William saw her actions, however, and chuckled.

“You and your little gratuities,” he said. Michelle looked at him guiltily and shrugged. William beckoned to the server and signed the check, adding a tip. Standing, he reached over and took the bird, putting it into his pocket. “Souvenir,” he explained to Michelle. She grinned.

“If you wanted one, you just had to ask,” she replied, folding her arms over her chest. “Now you’ve stolen from the bus-boy.” William laughed.

“Hardly,” he said, smiling down at Michelle. “I left a generous tip. This bird is mine.” He said the last words in a soft tone, sending a quick wink in Michelle's direction. Blushing, the young woman excused herself from the table to find the ladies room.

Once Michelle was out of earshot, Margaret turned to her son with a broad smile.

“You were right,” she said, “She is just lovely. I quite adore her already.” William smiled.

“I am glad of it,” he said. “I just hope you didn’t scare her off with that forced vacation to your home. She despises being pitied.” At this, Margaret looked a little taken aback.

“Pity? Nonsense,” she said her hand to her chest. “I would give an invitation to any sweet girl I thought you were interested in.”

“You think she interests me, eh?” William stalled. He really didn’t want his mother interfering with him and Michelle, especially when things were going so well.

Margaret gave her son a knowing look.

“The feelings between you two, however recent, are very ardent,” she remarked, quietly. “Even an old woman can see that. If I weren’t here I wager you would both be elsewhere and more happily occupied.” William’s eyebrows shot up; he tried to say something to the contrary but the color rising in his face belied any denial he could invent. “Don’t mind me,” his mother continued, smiling innocently. “I am just getting older, William... I want grand-babies; several of them, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Anything else?” her son sputtered, astonished.

“Yes,” Margaret said, opening her purse. “Please take some time off and bring Michelle up to the house sooner rather than later. I would like to get to know her a little better.”

“So would I,” William thought, glancing towards the restrooms. His mother’s bold suggestion triggered oddly dualistic emotions to crop up in his mind, likened to simultaneous offense and appeal.

“I may be able to take a weekend off,” he said to his mother. “But don’t push it.”

Margaret nodded, trying not to smile; her son--though grown and successful--was still very easy for her to read.

“And furthermore,” William continued, commanding Margret’s attention once more; her son furrowed his brow for added seriousness. “If you mention grand-babies or anything of the sort to Michelle I will personally cancel my Christmas plans and offer to work double overtime at my firm past New Year’s.” Margaret hid a grin away.

“Don’t be petulant. I’m an old woman,” she said, primly. “It’s only natural that I want some sweet, little grandb...”

“Michelle! There you are...” William interrupted, loudly. His guest walked up to the table, a little bemused at William’s desperate tone. She was very curious to know what he and his mother were discussing; her date looked positively embarrassed. Margaret, on the other hand, gave her a bright smile.

“William and I were just talking about you, my dear,” Margaret said, sweetly, ignoring her son’s grimace. “I hope you found the restroom clean. You never know if they sanitize things properly.”

“They are very good about cleaning the lavatory, my dear madam,” William said, testily. “I have never seen it out of order.”

“It pays to inquire,” Margaret said, titling her head a little. William contented himself with shooting his mother a glare and standing to go.

“Their hand soap is exquisite,” Michelle said, smelling her hands. “It’s thick and smells like spiced cider.”

“Now, that is my favorite hot drink,” Margaret said, patting Michelle’s arm. “Especially when it’s chilly out.”

Michelle nodded in answer, managing a small smile. The frequent touching was a little different, but she knew Margaret meant well; the elegant woman’s motherly ways bore with them a comfort Michelle had not known in years.

“Shall we?” William suggested; his expression softened a little as he watched the two women. As much as he wanted to avoid his mother’s interference, it seemed heartening--and a little surprising—that Margaret was so easily warming up to Michelle. The other women he’d dated in the past became quickly familiar with his mother’s icy, ‘aristocratic’ side. Sometimes, she’d been downright insulting. Anyone seeing her now would assume she was talking to a good friend, instead of a person she had formally met only an hour ago. His mother's motives for her pleasantries did not escape William but he let it go, for now.

The party of three collected their coats from the front greeter; Michelle shyly thanked the man and told him the meal was delicious. The green-vested man beamed at her.

“Come again lassie... anytime,” he said, giving her another broad wink. Michelle turned around and rolled her eyes, an action which amused William very much.

“So this is why you wear those worn clothes and that floppy hat,” he whispered in her ear. “You have to beat them off with a stick.” Blushing, Michelle shrugged and gave him a half-smile.

“Yes,” she whispered back. “It works while my tin overcoat is being repaired.” William smiled and resisted winking at her himself; he decided that he’d been doing far too much of that lately.

Margaret stood by the entrance, talking to her driver on a cell phone.

“He will pick me up out front,” she told William, shutting her phone with a click. She straightened her hat in the foyer mirror and turned to give her son a quick peck on the cheek; he had to lean down a ways to receive it but did so without complaining. “Thank you for lunch my boy,” Margaret said, looking up at her son affectionately; she turned to Michelle. “And, it was delightful to meet you, Michelle. I do hope you will visit me soon.”

Michelle smiled at her; the older lady's kindness managed to permeate one's soul like balm.

“Thank you,” she returned, with more confidence than she felt. “I enjoyed meeting you as well. I hope you have a safe journey home.” Margret’s smile struck the young woman as  completely genuine.

“Thank you, my dear. Au revoir,” William's mother said, elegantly. William held the door open for her; Margaret stepped out, expertly unfolding her umbrella in one, smooth action.

It dawned on Michelle that she did not have a problem being cordial or sociable; she simply hadn’t met many people worthy of cordiality. Samuel, Mabel, Patrick, William and Margaret made up her entire circle of acquaintances, though she considered William a bit differently than the rest. She watched her companion as he buttoned up his coat, giving room to hopeful thoughts which, normally, she would not have dared entertain. What if he should turn out to be her soul mate?

Considering their positions in life, such a thing was illogical. He was foreign born, a successful lawyer, brought up in wealth and considerable social standing; Michelle was not raised a pauper but she was certainly one now. She first saw him merely by chance, vending sketches on the street. It was by chance his mother saw the picture in the first placer. She'd had a near-manic episode in front of William and his mother, and yet they had just shared a very pleasant meal together. Just a few weeks ago, William was ignorant of her very existence; now he couldn’t stop smiling at her. Michelle shook her head, wondering at life’s great ironies.

William felt Michelle’s scrutiny of him and grinned at her; Michelle returned it; in one hand she clasped her folded umbrella.

“Want to walk me back to work?” William asked; he sounded amused. Michelle nodded, wanting to shrug. How was it that this man could laugh at her shyness but she didn’t feel insulted? Deep down, Michelle knew she wasn’t offended that William found her quirks humorous. It was actually flattering. She smiled up at him.

“You mean I get to glimpse the famed bulwark of legality that is Brownstone & Peters?” she asked, amused. William’s smile was a little strained.

“It is not all that special,” he said, flatly. “The building’s rather old and boxy; the offices within are horribly outdated.” He opened the restaurant door for his date.

The rain had not let up, but it failed to damped Michelle’s spirits; her feet felt light walking by William once again. His comments about his place of work intrigued Michelle and she felt compelled to further the subject.

“Have the owners of your company ever thought of renovating?” she inquired; she held her umbrella up with one hand, her other arm linked with William’s. Her blue-eyed companion shrugged a little.

“Er... the idea had been tossed about a lot lately,” he admitted. “Problem is it would take a million to properly remodel the place. I’m only a junior partner, but from what I’ve heard come down from the top, Mr. Peters wants to see a little more revenue from our branch before investing such a considerable sum into aesthetics.”

Michelle looked thoughtful for a moment.

“Maybe your firm could have a sale,” she said, smiling. “That would raise some eyebrows... and money.” William gave her a half-smile.