Draw Me A Picture (55 page)

William felt Michelle’s posture stiffen a little; turning, he saw his cousin, Anne standing in the door and immediately wished she hadn’t come. It was very poor taste to wear something that flashy to an engagement party. Not one for believing in bad omens, William was nonetheless a little insulted by his own cousin’s lack of manners. Her mother had taught her better.

“Did I mention some of my relations are conceited cods?” he whispered to Michelle. She turned and gave him a forgiving smile.

“You did,” she returned. “What will she wear tomorrow? A neon-orange jumpsuit?” William laughed, shaking his head.

“I’ll dump an ice bucket on her if she does,” he promised. “She's my cousin Anne. There’s my Aunt Florence now, and her husband Roderick.” Michelle looked over; an elegant older woman stood by the red-clad girl; she was more tastefully dressed in a deep burgundy dress and jacket. Though her face was similar in form to Margret’s, she looked older and much sterner. Margaret saw her sister’s family and strolled over to them.

“Let’s stay here, love,” William suggested, quietly. “They can come to us.” Smiling up at him, Michelle nodded.

They spent a happy few moments prying into Donnan Gregory’s memories of Oscar and Michelle’s father as young teenagers.

“There was that time we all slipped out of the house after dark and set firecrackers ‘round ol’ MacGill’s garden,” the man recounted, rubbing his chin. “The old boy were in World War II; when we set them off, he awoke thinking the Japs were upon his wee house.” At this Oscar laughed very hard, slapping his knee.

“I remember that...” he wheezed. “He yelled out like a dervish at first, but then it got really quiet. He pulled out a single shot rifle from somewhere and began plunking away at us.”

“Aye, and a good shot too, even after all those years,” Donnan mused. “He winged me in the shoulder and grazed yer father’s leg. An’ here Oscar got away wit’ not a scratch, the lucky sod.” Michelle laughed discreetly into her hand. William was entrenched in the story and didn’t even notice his aunt standing nearby.

“If you are done listening to vulgar stories, William, perhaps you can say 'hello' to your family,” came a crisp voice.

William grinned and turned to look down on his Aunt Florence from his considerable height advantage. He knew she detested that.

“Aunt Florence,” he said, nodding at her politely. “May I present my future bride, Michelle Gregory.” Michelle gave a polite curtsy, and for William sake a smile she would give to him. The woman did not appear sneering, just suspicious, Michelle thought; they regarded one another as if scrutiny would somehow bridge the gap.

“I am very pleased to meet you ma’am,” Michelle said, in her quiet way; she sounded much more confident than she felt. Margret’s sister smiled, just a little.

“Though it was a bit rushed, this wedding, we are glad to be able to attend.” As she spoke, the woman critically eyed Michelle’s stomach. Inwardly Michelle bristled, knowing the woman was expecting to see a ‘bulge’.
 

“I certainly hope your room is comfortable,” Michelle said, forcing her voice to be warm and calm.

“It is acceptable, thank you,” the woman said; her voice was laced with enough condescension to bring up the ire in any bride. Michelle laughed a little, causing ‘Aunt Florence’ to give her a sharp, questioning look.

“The hotel manager told me that the Prince of Monaco and Princes Grace found that suite ‘acceptable’ as well,” Michelle said, her voice tinged with humor.

A man next to Florence hid his laugh in a cough. Looking at him, Michelle saw he returned her smile warmly. The man embodied mature, British gentry with calm grace upon his gray brow; Michelle immediately liked him, despite his rather icy wife. Grinning, the man clapped William on the shoulder.

“William you sly dog,” the man said, still smiling. “Somehow you managed to convince a fair dryad to marry you, eh?”

“Michelle this is Roderick Jamieson II, my uncle,” William introduced. Michelle accepted the man’s offered hand with a real smile. “He’s one of the better relations.”

“Nonsense, nonsense... welcome to the family, my dear,” he kissed the back of Michelle’s hand. “Roddy, Annie, come meet William’s fiancée.” He spoke over his shoulder to the red-clad girl and her male counterpart; they came forward almost reluctantly.

“I am pleased to make your acquaintance,” Michelle said, shyly.

“William,” Roddy said, clasping hands with William. “Long time old boy.” The young man let his eyes drift down to Michelle. “Bloody hell… she’s damn gorgeous,” he said, smiling. “Lucky sod.” The last part he said under his breath. William grinned.

“Thank you Rod,” he answered. “She has a name, you know.”

“Yes, Miss Michelle Gregory, soon to be Mrs. Montgomery,” Roddy said, smiling down at Michelle. “Charmed, ‘m sure.” He looked over at some of the Gregory girls, talking with their families. “Beauty seems to run in the family,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

Anne, the daughter, stepped forward and gave William a kiss on the cheek; it left a ruby-red smudge. Without ceremony, William took out a handkerchief and wiped it off.

“Anne,” was all he said. The young woman looked at Michelle with a bored expression. Something in her manner reminded Michelle very much of the evil Cassandra, though minus the driving ambition.

“William... so, it took a pauper to tempt you towards matrimony,” she said, lightly. “I did not expect that.”

“I’m not surprised,” Michelle spoke up; her voice, though quiet, held a surprising confidence. Anne looked at her with one eyebrow raised. “The elite never expect much from the common man, until they are amassed on the front lawn... erecting a guillotine.”

The nearby chatter halted. Anne stared at Michelle, mouth open. William looked down at his fiancée, eyebrows raised; a slow, broad smile overtook his features.

“Bloody hell; she’s a genius,”
he thought. Feeling confidence wash over her, Michelle gave a light laugh at Anne’s expression.

“Oh, don’t worry, she said, “You’re fairly safe here...” She pointed over to her relatives. The Gregory relations—who were surreptitiously listening to the whole conversation--grinned at the stunned debutante. “I’ll keep them in check,” Michelle finished, with a smile. Anne worked her mouth into a fairly decent sneer and turned to find something with alcohol in it.

“I can see you and I will become good friends,” Roderick Jamieson said, exceedingly amused. “History buff, eh? Most impressive.”

“I second that,” William said, giving Michelle a very warm look. The moment his uncle turned away, he leaned down and addressed Michelle’s ear. “You are a clever little minx, do you know that? It’s an incredible turn-on.” It took Michelle all of two minutes to stop blushing.

The rest of the ‘gathering’ turned out better than Michelle thought it would; no one was killed, no blood was shed; her little comment about guillotines seemed to rattle the aristocracy enough to actually be civil. Donnan Gregory couldn’t stop laughing about it.

“Oh, I’ll have to use that one; that’s for certain,” he said, approvingly. “That’s the Gregory brain for you. Not so large, mind you but every gray cell alive and kicking.” The dinner proved excellent, comprising of subtle fall-orientated dishes with seasonal vegetables and fresh-baked bread. Drinks and good food seemed to placate William’s relatives and quiet Michelle’s. The after feeling was more conversational and a general bonhomie reigned. The happy couple received many well-wishes for the morrow’s nuptials.

After the last guest said a reluctant goodnight, William found himself alone with his almost-bride as the servers cleaned up.

“Can I walk you to your taxicab, my lady?” he offered; his smile was full of fondness and something like pride. “I’m certain your uncle is out there waiting.” His fiancée nodded; they walked towards the lobby slowly, enjoying a few moments of quiet.

“I hope you’re not too angry with me for scaring the heck out of your cousin,” Michelle said, softly. She had not meant to insult anyone, even the ill-mannered rich girl. William actually chuckled. The warm sound of it made Michelle relax immediately.

“I told you to defend yourself with them,” he said, sighing happily. “You dished back exactly what was served... I’m very proud of you.” Looking down into his fiancée’s eyes, William was glad to see real delight in them. “Admit it, you had fun.” Michelle smiled.

“Yes, I did,” she acquiesced. “The relatives, yours and mine, were not as I feared. They are all capable of civilized behavior and intelligent conversation.”

William spied Michelle’s uncle standing by the door, his coat already on.

“I will part company with you here, my love,” he said, kissing the back of Michelle’s hand. “You look far too lovely to... well, I am certain you can figure out why.” He got one more blush from his sweet Michelle and achieved his silent goal. “Goodnight, my dear one.”

“Goodnight, William,” Michelle whispered, feeling like she was tearing a limb off her off to leave him, though such a  thought occurred to her as being a bit dramatic. “Until tomorrow.”

An hour later, Michelle found herself in her uncle’s spare room, getting ready to sleep. Her traveling bag stood--already packed--waiting by the door. Running her hand over the scuffed, brown leather, Michelle felt idiotically happy, yet anxious. She forced herself to refrain from thinking of all the things that could go wrong, and went to shower. After drying her hair, Michelle settled into her bed, smiling as she thought of what tomorrow might bring.

“Sleep will be elusive tonight,”
she thought, though the idea did not bother her. William was worth all the blissful angst in the world.
 

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

4:30AM found Michelle already wide awake. Try as she might the bride-to-be could not fall back asleep. Sitting cross-legged on the gray bedspread, she fingered the claim ticket for her wedding dress; it was still safety tucked away in the Waldorf’s ‘vault’. Glancing at the clock for what seemed the millionth-time, Michelle sighed. Though a somewhat juvenile emotion, she felt keen impatience descend upon her, along with a sort of happy anxiousness.

“In only five hours… I get to put on my gorgeous dress and wait around some more,”
she thought; she did not feel nervous now. More like she was on a major sugar high with nowhere to go work it off. Covering her face,
Michelle laughed at herself. She’d consumed neither sugar nor caffeine and did not know from whence such energy sprung. Hopefully, it would last.
 

Another five minutes slowly ticked by. Michelle gave up on the pretense of patience and got on the floor; she did crunches, push-ups and sit-ups until her stomach muscles ached. By the time she finished exercising the clock only read 5AM. Breathing hard Michelle lay on her back, resting for just a moment.

“This is probably my last day in this room,” she mused aloud. Sighing, the bride got up and walked over to the spare-room closet. She chose some simple, comfortable things to wear and packed the rest in a garment bag. That and her travel bag would be accompanying her everywhere today. Undressing quickly, she stuffed her pajamas in a plastic bag and into a side pocket of her brown travel bag. She debated calling William, but refrained. As fun as it would be to wake him, if he’d experienced anything like she had last night, it would be cruel to wake him.

Michelle sat in the hot shower a long time. The water did help calm her down; waves of drowsiness washed over her like a warm, slow-rising tide. She dried her hair very slowly on the coolest setting, brushing it out until it shone.

“There’s something very calming about brushing hair,” she thought. Laughing at herself, Michelle wondered if she could even crowbar the smile off her face. It felt permanently etched there, the result of her deep well of euphoria within. The clock only read 6am as she exited the bathroom; in an hour and a half Laurel would be arriving to pick her; they’d drive to get Margaret and spend a half hour or so at a spa. Looking down at her toes, Michelle wondered if the pedicurists would be repulsed at her home-job. Sighing, Michelle suddenly felt very tired.

“Just a few minutes,” she said, to herself. Sleep claimed Michelle the moment her head hit the pillow.

Laurel knocked on the door five times before she heard sounds from inside.

“Hello?” The bride’s voice seemed full of sleep. Laurel smiled.

“It’s seven, already,” she said, cheerfully. “I do hope you’ve showered.” Michelle sat up on her bed.

“I have actually,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “Give me two minutes and I’ll be down.” The short nap did her good, though she yawned a great deal while dressing. Michelle dragged on her black tights and a black skirt, a white shirt and sweater and her black boots. For fun she put on a red scarf, feeling a bit entitled to wear the vivacious color this day. No hue on the light spectrum was brighter than Michelle’s smile; she almost skipped down the stairs, holding her two pieces of luggage. Her excitement grew with each step.

Drake, Daniels, Laurel and her uncle were all downstairs, waiting. Michelle shook her head at them, unable to stop smiling.

“Look at you!” Laurel said, with a misty look in her eyes. “You’re positively glowing...” Michelle laughed.

“With happiness or radiation?” she inquired lightly. Laurel rolled her eyes.

“Har, har... really, you look sweet,” she countered. “Now, come on... we have just enough time to pick up your almost-mother-in-law.” Michelle nodded. She saw Oscar get up from the couch; he looked like he wanted to say something but did not. Michelle decided to help him out.

Walking over to her uncle, she smiled at him with real warmth.

“You made this all possible, you know,” she said, softly; her eyes shone with unshed tears. Oscar frowned, his face twisting a little. There was no way he was trying not to cry. None.

“Now don’t get all mushy on me,” he said, gruffly. “Its my pleasure..” He let his niece give him a hug. He leaned down and kissed Michelle’s forehead; it was a fatherly gesture. Michelle realized he was saying a fond ‘farewell’, in his own way. Wiping her eyes, Michelle gave him a sweet smile and stepped away.