Draw Me A Picture (9 page)

“Lovely, shy … but cheeky minx,” he said, to himself. He simply couldn’t believe he’d found her after all these weeks. For the full ride home, William allowed himself the wispy daydream of blossoming apple trees and a pretty girl in pale pink.

CHAPTER FOUR

The next day dawned under a gray, rainy sky. Standing beneath her umbrella, Michelle hovered by the wall at her old corner... waiting for William. The excitement she felt seemed almost impossible to contain. The evening before seemed like a dream in the face of the rain pouring down… but nothing could dampen Michelle’s spirits. She fortified herself to see William’s face, feeling a bit like a teenage girl off on her first date.

“It won’t do to seem too eager,”
she thought.
“No use scaring the man off with desperation.”
 

Michelle dressed with care for her lunch date; she still owned a nice 'everyday' outfit. Under her blue coat she wore warm, black tights, black ankle boots, a red plaid skirt and a crisp, white blouse. A thin, black ribbon choker necklace rounded out her ensemble, though she felt a bit schoolgirl-ish wearing it. It wasn’t a ‘business lunch’ or anything, she reasoned. Concluding that William liked her hairstyle yesterday, Michelle had taken the time to put a few curls on the ends of her hair. She valiantly fended the rain off with the large, white umbrella.

Standing at the corner her smile shone out radiantly, her eyes lit up with anticipation, once agian searching the oncoming foot traffic for a glimpse of his face. 12:05. Michelle held her breath.

“Oh, calm down!” she whispered. She could not stop smiling; she forced herself to look at her boots. She looked up into the umbrella. She tried counting raindrops, but gave up as the skies above let loose a cloudburst.

“No hat today?” came a pleasant voice. Peeking out from under her umbrella, Michelle saw William standing next to her, armed with his own umbrella. She graced him with a brilliant smile. The sight of her happy expression chased  any weather-induced gloom away from William's thoughts. Walking towards Michelle’s old corner, he'd spied a blue-coated figure standing still, mostly hidden by a large white umbrella. It wasn’t until he’d drawn closer--and observed the silver buttons--that he’d let out a relieved breath.

“Hello, William,” Michelle said, pleasantly; even her tone made William feel welcome. He pretended to tip a hat that wasn’t there.

“Michelle,” he said. Still smiling, the young woman switched her umbrella to her other hand and took his offered arm.

As they walked forward Michelle felt the ghostly presence of loneliness leave her. The corner no longer seemed to be a well of disappointed dreams, but a portal... opening to a realm of possibility. She glanced over at her companion as often as possible, trying to be discreet about it. William had such a noble profile; she liked how his dark blond hair picked up light in spite of the overcast sky.

“See something you like?” William asked after a few moments. Michelle blushed and forced herself not to hide under her umbrella.

“It’s just good to see you,” she stated. “You’re wearing gloves today.” William gave her a boyish grin. “Yes, well my hands were chilly last night," he said. He indicated a glossy set of double doors off to their right. A hanging, wooden sign above the doors read The Flagon.

Weaving their way through the other pedestrians the two companions paused at the restaurant entrance to shake and close their soaking umbrellas.

“After you,” William said, holding the door. Michelle smiled as she went in. A warm cloud of air met her inside the atrium. A stout, cheerful-looking man--clad in a green vest and shirt-sleeves--grinned at them.

“Welcome to The Flagon!” he called out heartily. “Mr. Montgomery,” he nodded at William. “Another guest today, then?” The man held out his hands for their coats.

As Michelle unbuttoned her coat, she looked around the long, low room. It appeared styled after an English pub with dark leather chairs, polished wood fixtures and a genuine, crackling fireplace. The ambiance of the room felt unusually comfortable, for a mere eating establishment. Turning back towards William, Michelle caught his expression. He seemed to be studying her outfit with frank admiration. Blushing, Michelle looked at the greeter and handed him her coat. Much to her embarrassment, the man in the green vest winked at her. William stepped a bit closer to his guest.

“You look... very nice, Michelle,” he said, clearing his throat. Michelle resisted batting her eyes at him; her skirt wasn’t
that
short.
 

“Thank you. Is your mother here already?” she asked, looking around the main room.

William swallowed and pretended to look for his mum. Michelle looked a bit more fun and comfortable than last night, though he was quite partial to that pink dress of hers. However, this little, red skirt and feminine blouse looked downright seductive, yet she managed to appear completely unaware of it. Trying to clear his mind, William searched for his mother. Spying a familiar hat across the room, he took Michelle’s hand and led the way toward the table. The green-vested man scooped up a few menus and followed them.

As they approached a far table William’s mother looked up. Immediately she noted that her son was holding the hand of a pretty, young woman. She beamed. Getting to her feet, the lady held out her arm gracefully to William. Her son kissed her on the cheek in greeting and turned to Michelle. His guest appeared to be a little uncomfortable, a rather forced smile on her face.

“Mother, I’d like to introduce...”

“Michelle. Yes, I know,” his mother interrupted, still smiling. “You told me all about her at breakfast. I’m not losing my memory yet, my boy.” She turned to her son's guest; her kindly expression evaporated what fears Michelle held. “My dear, how nice of you to join us,” the woman said. “Don’t you look lovely. Pay no mind to what happened when we met, poor dear. I was overjoyed when William told me that he found you...”

William coughed, pulling out a chair for his mother.

“Please sit,” he told her, patiently. Sporting a tolerant smile, the older woman complied. William held Michelle’s chair for her as well; his guest took her seat, feeling much more at ease.

“I hope you’ll accept my apology for my behavior that day, Mrs. Montgomery,” Michelle said, looking at William’s mother.

“Nonsense,” the woman said, blithely. She patted Michelle’s hand. “My name is Margaret, my dear. ‘Mrs. Montgomery’ was my mother-in-law... an unpleasant woman. It is very good to see you! I simply adore the picture you drew of William. It is superb; you are singularly talented. All of my friends in Vermont are quite jealous and want to know whom the elusive artist is and if they do commissioned work...”

Overwhelmed by the flood of goodwill coming from Margaret, Michelle was rendered speechless.

“My dear madam,” William began, trying to hide his smile. His date seemed rather flustered. “Do take a breath. My guest has no intention of running off, I think.” Recovering herself, Michelle gave William a narrow look. Satisfied, William turned to contemplate his menu.

“I am glad you like the picture so much,” Michelle said, turning back to Margaret. “It was one of my favorites.” the lady smiled, dimpling prettily.

“I love it,” she answered. “I have it hanging in the ballroom. The framing company in town is simply brilliant. The light in that room is largely natural, you see, and suits all my artwork well. I hope you will visit and see how it is situated.” Michelle didn’t know what to say, but Margaret did not appear to need a response. “I am frankly amazed that you perfected such a accurate drawing from your little corner, though it is a good spot for face study, isn’t it? Two years is quite a long time to vend sketches... William told me a little about your situation.”

Michelle’s eyebrows rose at this. The lady patted her hand again. “I think you’re quite clever,” Margaret continued, unfazed. “Your parents would be very proud of you.” Blinking, Michelle felt nearly on the verge of tears. This motherly woman was about killing her with kindness, the loss of her own mother all that more apparent. William observed Michelle’s drawn expression and handed his mother a menu.

“I recommend the fish and chips,” he said, trying to catch Michelle’s eye; the young woman stared down at the table as if she didn’t really see it.

“You would,” Margaret announced, looking at her son over her menu.

Her annoyed tone made Michelle glance up at her. “I will bet one hundred American dollars that you order ‘fish and chips’ every, single day,” Margaret continued. “You should eat a variety of foods, or your
health will deteriorate... the salmon looks good.” The last part she said to herself. Michelle stifled a giggle; William grinned.
 

“So, a variety from fish and chips is... salmon? Another fish?”

“Oh, you know what I mean,” Margaret said, giving her son’s arm a little pinch. She looked up at an approaching waiter. “Bread? Oh, good. I am famished.”

William caught Michelle’s eye and smiled reassuringly at her. Returning his smile, she picked up her menu and attempted to act normally. While the young woman searched her menu, William studied her face, rather wishing they were alone; her hair looked rather touchable, all loose and curling softly around her shoulders. She softly bit her bottom lip in concentration; William smiled, wanting to try it himself. Margaret looked up--about to say something--and saw her son watching Michelle. Glancing between the two, she smiled down into her menu, remaining quiet.

A waiter appeared and silently took their orders. William did order the fish and chips, despite a glare from his mum. Michelle made him smile by having the same thing.

“It sounds good,” she defended. Margaret patted her hand.

“You have whatever you like, dear.” The elegant lady ordered the salmon and pinched William’s arm again when he asked the waiter to bring his mother a ‘variety’ salad.

As the waiter sauntered off with their orders, Michelle studied the room. Instead of a booth the round, mahogany table was flanked by four dark brown leather chairs. Coffer-ed wooden partitions were built up between tables, a detail Michelle liked very much; it enabled more private conversation amid the lunching groups. The air of the place was both smoky and spicy, the furniture deep and relaxing; the whole effect was pleasing.

“This is very much a man-hangout,” she thought, fingering a pewter salt-shaker.

“How do you like my midday haven, Michelle?” William asked from across the table. Looking over at him, Michelle immediately liked the playful twinkle in his eye. Straightening her posture a little, she folded her hands in her lap.

“Very much,” said she, keeping William’s gaze. “It is pleasant and... relaxed. I can see why you like it.”

Margaret gave a little snort.

“The same food everyday... really,” she scoffed. “You should eat better. Doesn’t Alfred feed you greens?”

“Alfred would feed me greens for breakfast if I would allow it,” William replied testily. He didn’t appreciated being berated by his mother in front of Michelle. His guest--he noticed—seemed quite amused by their banter. “I’m surprised he doesn’t wake me at two in the morning, wanting me to take in a little spinach.”

Michelle repressed a strong desire to laugh at William’s expression; she’d not seen him annoyed before. She cleared her throat instead.

“Who’s Alfred?” she asked, innocently. Margaret turned to her.

“Why Alfred is William’s valet,” she explained, giving her son a saccharine smile. William grimaced at her. Leaning forward, Michelle set her elbows on the tabletop and rested her chin on her hands; she fixed her eyes on William.

“You need a valet?” she asked, smiling.

“Yes, well William is far too busy to take proper care of himself,” Margaret answered for her son. “Besides, Alfred’s been with the family since William was in nappies.”

William pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers; part of him wanting to throttle his mother. The woman looked on the verge of pulling out photo albums. Across the table Michelle gave him some very amused glances. Of all the things William wanted to discuss on their second outing, his mother’s memories of his babyhood was not among them.

“He put me through some worrisome times, believe me,” Margaret continued. “Once he swallowed a whole goldfish... one of my favorites. It took some to-do to get it out. A lot of castor oil...”

“Enough!” William demanded. “Surely, there is something else to talk about...” His voice took on a desperation that Michelle found hilarious. She giggled behind her hand while Margaret argued a mother’s right to share embarrassing stories.

“You were a good boy,” she said, tapping her fork on the tabletop. “You’ve really nothing to be ashamed of.”

Fortunately, the waiter chose that moment to bring a tray of steaming plates to their table. The delicious smell of the food seemed to quell the good-natured disagreement between William and his mother, and they retreated to their proverbial corners. Michelle dipped her head at Margret’s quick blessing and cut genteelly into her fish.

William began to reach for his chips but thought better of it and went for his fork. Michelle also wanted to use her fingers; in her experience one didn’t eat fish and chips any other way. However, in front of Margaret, Michelle acquiesced to ‘decorum’. William caught her eye and she knew he was thinking the same thing.

“This is nice,” Margaret said, after a minute. “They do know how to cook fish properly, I will give you that. You should have Michelle over to your flat for dinner, William. Alfred really can put on a feast.”

Grimacing, William resisted the urge to ‘accidentally’ spill his glass of water on her. He’d been toying with the idea of asking Michelle over since last night, but now it was tossed tactlessly onto the table like a flopping, dying fish. Michelle, however, didn’t seem to notice his mother’s gentle prodding; she leaned forward smiling.

“Does Alfred do all the cooking?” she asked, sweetly. Immediately, she felt William’s intent gaze upon her; she pretended to be very interested in arranging the fork and knife on her plate. Looking up, she met William’s eyes; his smile seemed rather predatory all of the sudden. Returning to her food Michelle ate slowly, a smile hovering around her mouth.