Draw Me A Picture (25 page)

“I often wondered where I got my thespian abilities from,” he said, sitting down next to Michelle. “Now I know.” Margaret gave a little snort.

“No need to be fractious,” she said, pretending to pout.

Spying a large box and several bags on a nearby chair, William turned to Michelle.

“Are you still in one piece?” he inquired, finding her hand with his. Michelle gave him a shy smile.

“They were very nice to me,” she said, and meant it.

“You see?” Sophie put in, setting her tea down. “We are not as bad as you make us out to be, William.” William chuckled.

“Well, at least there are only four boxes and things there,” he said, smiling.
“Five, counting the one in my pocket,”
he thought, with satisfaction.
 

“Yes, well I didn’t bring the larger car,” Margaret stated. She looked up at a clock on the gallery wall. “We really should go, as much as I hate to. I am certain Sophie has things to arrange, and we have things to do.”

Sophie kissed them all goodbye in her warm way, informing them that seven would be an appropriate time to show up.

“Not too early, and not too late,” she explained, waving them off. Michelle thanked her for her advice and kindness but the woman shook her head.

“You are a lovely girl, carina. Tonight try to enjoy yourself, no?” was her reply. Michelle smiled and let William lead her to the doors. Margret’s driver took the various bags and stowed them away properly.

They arrived back to Margret’s home rather quickly. Margaret shooed Michelle upstairs, though the young woman flustered her by taking the bags up herself. William laughed at this, however, and gave Michelle a very American ‘thumbs-up’.

“Oh, you two,” Margaret said, rolling her eyes. “You go get ready dear,” she said to Michelle; she turned to her son. “William you need a shower and a shave.” William grimaced at her.

“Madam, do I tell you how to put on your silk stockings?” he quipped, straightening his tie. Margret’s normally placid brow creased with irritation.

“Certainly not,” she said, primly.

“Then kindly leave my methods and manner of preparing for dinner alone,” William said, firmly.

“Well... goodness!” Margaret said sounding hurt. Michelle laughed quietly all the way to her room.

CHAPTER SEVEN

As small a thing as a ‘dinner’ must be to the affluent people in the house, Michelle felt like she was smack dab in the middle of a fairy tale, only without fairies, or magic. She didn’t dare open the boxes on her bed until she’d showered and dried her hair. A small rack of electric curlers sat on the guest vanity. Michelle wound her hair carefully on the largest rollers.

As the curlers set, Michelle slipped on her robe and walked over to the large dress box, sitting on her bed. She touched the box lid reverently. Marcie’s bright blue logo stood out beautifully on the white lid. Lifting the top off, Michelle unfolded the tissue paper and took out the emerald dress with great care, laying it on the bed. Michelle hugged herself and stared at the gown as if it was some mirage.

“Wow,” was all she said. She turned back to the vanity to finish her hair. Taking the curlers out, Michelle resisted brushing her now wavy hair and sat for about ten minutes, carefully applying her makeup. She chose dark green eyeliner and put on brown mascara, separating her lashes even more with a pin. Opting to wear no lipstick at all Michelle put on just a little of her mint-flavored gloss.

It took a moment to locate the gown’s zipper. It was cleverly hidden in the back under some lovely embroidery. Finally, she slipped on the dress, even managing to zip it up by herself, just barely. Though she wanted to twirl around the room Michelle forced herself to sit down at the vanity again. Arranging her skirts, Michelle considered the best way to do her hair. It would look alright down, but she thought an up-do would be more appropriate. Smiling, Michelle took some bobby pins and set to work.

Fifteen minutes, some gel and about fifty bobby pins later, Michelle emerged from her room, holding her blue coat. She felt slightly wobbly on the high heels, but was glad to be wearing the pretty, green shoes. Looking around, the hall appeared deserted.

“Either they are all waiting for me downstairs or they’re not ready yet.”
She hoped it was the latter. Practicing her descent, Michelle slowly floated downstairs using her very best deportment. Her efforts seemed to please the butler, Thomas; he smiled warmly at her and told her she looked well.
 

“They’ll be down shortly, Miss,” he told her; his voice lent Michelle more social status than she knew was deserved, but she smiled anyway.

“Thank you,” she returned.

Humming to herself, she wandered into the parlor. The large grand piano stood like a silent invitation. “Do you think Margaret would mind if I played on the piano?” Thomas chuckled from by the door.

“No, Miss,” he said. “Please go ahead.” He walked away, not before relieving Michelle of her coat. Michelle ran her fingers over the glossy instrument. Her mother loved to play the piano; when she was growing up, they had a wall piano... not anything like this gorgeous black behemoth. It had been awhile, but Michelle still remembered a soft Debussy piece her mother had loved.

“Thanks for the piano lessons, Mom,” she whispered, smiling. She sat down carefully, trying not to crease her gown. Looking around surreptitiously, she cracked her knuckles and grinned. The keys blazed out white and black, invitingly dualistic in their appeal. “Just like riding a bike,” Michelle said, to herself.

William emerged from his room some moments later, and immediately walked to Michelle’s door. He looked alarmingly well, dressed in Savile Row: a cobalt blue shirt, blue-silk tie with a midnight-black tailored suit. As most men did, he wanted to look well when he proposed to his lady. The Tiffany & Co. box seemed to be burning a hole in his pocket, but he wanted to wait for just the right moment.

Pausing to straighten his tie, William thought he heard the sounds of piano music coming from downstairs.

“
Alfred,”
he thought, grinning. The old boy couldn’t resist playing the big piano. Knocking on Michelle’s door, he readied a charming smile. No answer. Knocking again, William stood there smiling for another minute until he heard a door open, down the hall. Alfred came out, dressed in a pressed gray suit and deep red tie.

“Evening, Master William,” he said, smiling. “You look uncommonly well tonight.” William raised an eyebrow and looked from Alfred to the stairs. “Thank you… you as well.” He glanced at the staircase, then back at Alfred. “If you’re up here, then who is playing the piano?” he asked. Alfred looked puzzled.

“Maybe Jean-Claude plays?” he ventured. William looked at Michelle’s door. It occurred to him that he didn’t know if she played any instruments. If so, he’d been standing here like a dummy, knocking on the door of an empty room.

“I say, that’s Debussy,” Alfred was saying. He listened a moment. “Not bad. I prefer Chopin myself, though. Shall we sir? I’m certain Miss Michelle will be down shortly.”

“Yes,” William said, half suspecting she was down already. They walked down the grand steps just as Margaret entered the foyer. She looked at Alfred in surprise.

“Oh,” she said, looking towards the parlor. The doors were closed, but the music could be heard clearly. “Alfred, you’re not at the piano?” Alfred looked amused.

“Apparently not, Madam,” he said, smiling. William deliberately walked up to the doors and opened one, quietly.

The piano sat a little sideways as one entered the parlor, so whoever played did not face the doors; anyone coming in the room would see the player’s profile. William stood at the door, not wanting to move. He was not really shocked; he expected Michelle to look good, but he felt rooted to the spot at the sight in front of him. Michelle’s normally pale face held a sweet, rosy expression; her eyes were closed, enjoying the music, her slender frame swaying a little as she played.

Whatever dress she was wearing clung to her like it was a second skin, growing gracefully full around her legs; the sweeping neckline gave away a good deal of her chest and shoulders. Some kind of thread-thin silver necklace graced her skin, along with matching, swirling earrings that managed to compliment everything. William most liked her hair, full of bouncy curls piled on her head in a fashionable way; a few tempting, delicate tendrils draped down. Looking at her, William felt like he’d been socked in the stomach by Eros. To top it off, the lovely music the young woman played swirled around the room like some wispy enchantment.

“What man wouldn’t want her for his wife?”
William thought, staring at her. He felt like asking her right then and there.
 

The door next to him opened. Alfred and Margaret appeared. William’s mother looked at Michelle with delight, smiling as the song ended.

“Oh, my dear girl!” Margaret said, clapping her hands. “You play beautifully…” Hearing voices, Michelle quickly opened her eyes, and then blushed at seeing the small audience grouped by the doorway. She’d hated recitals growing up.

“I didn’t think anyone would mind me playing,” she said, apologetically. Encountering William’s expression, she looked down at the piano keys.

“Mind? Nonsense I didn’t know you could play. Really... I’m so glad someone likes Debussy other than me. Alfred only ever plays Chopin...”

At these slightly disparaging words, Alfred sniffed.

“Chopin is a respectable composer, Madam,” he said, coolly. Margaret patted him on the shoulder.

“I know,” she said, smiling. “... and you play it very well.” Michelle stood up and made her way around the piano to the parlor door. William watched her every move; as she drew closer to him, he saw the rosy hue to her skin. It was difficult to find words but he wanted to say something.

“You look nice,” he said and then winced a little.
“Lame, lame, lame...”
he silently chastised himself. Michelle however, gave him a radiant smile; her eyes held a soft look.
 

“Thank you,” she returned. She looked at his suit. “You look incredible... in a good way,” she corrected, biting her lip. William smiled down at her; her shoes made her seem taller, he noticed. The top of her head came just about level with his eyes. It was the perfect height to kiss her, he reckoned.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he said. Reaching forward he grasped her hand and kissed the back of it, his eyes never leaving hers.

Michelle’s thoughts turned in similar directions; she wondered what in the world she had done to be seen with this gorgeous man. The shirt he wore matched the shade of his eyes, making them even more brilliant. He regarded her with an adoring look she found quite flattering. She wanted to stare into his eyes for hours.

“You look so lovely, my dear,” Margaret said; her eyes appeared a little misty. The look her son gave his guest did not escape her; they made an amazing couple. She was secretly pleased with her handiwork.

Looking at Margaret, Michelle reached forward and gave her a small hug.

“Thank you so much for the dress, Margaret, I...” She began to thank the woman but Margaret waved her off, smiling brightly.

“Nonsense,” she said. “As if anyone should look like you do in that dress; it looks like it was made for
you.”
 

“I agree,” William said, eying Michelle up and down. “I’m going to have to arm myself to keep the men off you.”

Alfred cleared his throat.

“Don’t worry sir; I will assist you in that endeavor,” he said gravely. “No one will harm our lamb.” Margaret laughed and waved towards the foyer.

“Come now,” she said, still smiling. “We don’t want to be late; ‘tis half past six already.” Michelle stepped away obediently, heading toward Thomas; the butler stood by the front entry, holding her blue coat.

“Yes, let’s be off,” William said, gazing at Michelle appreciatively as she stepped carefully across the floor. “I’m starving.” He felt rather warm and loosened his collar a little, walking after Michelle. Alfred and Margaret exchanged a knowing look and followed.

Sophie’s ‘house’ was a good twenty minutes’ driving away. William sat snugly against his ladylove; he spent the whole ride breathing rather heavily on her, something which amused Michelle very much.

“I feel like I am sitting next to the Big Bad Wolf,” she whispered, after a few minutes of this. William responded by leaning down by her ear.

“You have no idea,” he whispered back.“Would you like me to nibble your ear again?”

“Now William,” Margaret said, trying not to giggle. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what was going on. “Please refrain from whispering mischievous things to Michelle this evening. I can see it renders her completely unable to speak.”

William flashed his mother a boyish grin.

“Excuse me madam; she looks so comely all rosy.”

“Embarrassed you mean,” Margaret said, trying to look severe. “For my sake?” William shrugged.

“Very well then,” he acquiesced; he dropped Michelle a roguish wink and leaned back, giving her a breather.

“What am I going to do?”
Michelle thought, trying to calm her rapid heart-rate. In spite of being rendered nearly tongue-tied, she half-liked the looks that William gave her; she felt like the universe’s Most Alluring Woman under his gaze. Even though it felt a little ungrateful Michelle wished that she and William here alone for the evening, going off to dance and talk somewhere under the stars.
 

The D’Angelo residence proved even larger than Margret’s, by a good deal; it stood regally at the end of a private drive, soaring seven stories into the night air. Michelle shook her head in wonderment at the size of the place.

“What do they do with all the space?” she wondered aloud as William helped her from the car. “Play polo in the halls?” William laughed at her words, giving Michelle’s hand a squeeze.

“I like not having to worry about you being badly affected by all this,” he said, kissing her hand. “You have a good, healthy world view.”