Draw Me A Picture (53 page)

“I feel the same way, sir,” she said. “And, I still haven’t come up with a fun little name for you yet.” William chuckled.

“Well you have forty-eight hours to work on it,” he teased her. Michelle gave him a small kiss on the cheek; she did not want to leave, not ever. Necessity and propriety called her away, however and Michelle got in the cab.

As the taxi pulled away, Michelle looked back through the window at William’s form; he stood tall, though his form was dwarfed by the dark building. As hard the act of leaving him, small, sweet promises of what was to come beckoned in Michelle’s mind; the whisperings they sang cause her to smile, and hope.

“Two days isn’t a long time at all,” she thought settling back against the seat. Sighing, Michelle allowed herself to daydream of the way William smiled and how he ran his hand through his hair. Riding toward Brooklyn, Michelle was buoyed up by a sort of anxious happiness, felt only by those nearing the end of their voyage on the Lonely Ocean.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

An unfamiliar sound caused Michelle’s eyes to open. Blinking, she sat up in the gray bed and looked around in the post-dawn dark. On the night stand her new cell phone blinked and buzzed, cranking out a very poor imitation of music. Reaching over, Michelle leaned on one elbow and opened the phone.

“Hello?” she inquired, her voice thick with sleep.

“Good morning,” came William’s voice; he sounded pleased with himself for waking her up, Michelle noted.

“The same to you sir,” she said, lying back down. “Though, I cannot say I’ve woken you as well. It must be 5:30 in the morning.”

“Right you are, love,” William said, his voice soft. “I’m just up myself, having a bit of coffee.”

“I’m just up myself too, having been woken up with Debussy,” Michelle replied, covering her eyes with her arm. “I don’t like this phone already.” William chuckled at her tired tone.

“Just one more day to get through, sweetheart,” he said, gently. “I must say I am very grateful that you planned a morning ceremony and reception. The sooner we get married and get out of there, the better.” Michelle let out a quiet laugh at his words. The moment of wedded bliss was almost upon them, a little over twenty-four hours away.

“Yes. It will be a very nice brunch,” she told him. “Please tell me where we’re going.” William chuckled.

“Not a chance,” he said, vastly amused. “You know far too much already.”

“You haven’t booked us on a whaling ship, have you?” Michelle asked, smiling. She heard a mixture of sputtering, laughing and coughing, sort of like when someone involuntarily spits out coffee.

“Heh, heh... you little minx,” William said, chuckling. “I should know better than to drink anything while talking to you.”

“I’m sorry...” Michelle said, hiding her laugh in her pillow. “Did you ruin your shirt?”

“No,” William said. “I wasn’t really dressed yet. My housecoat will need a wash, though. Whaling ship, indeed. Nothing like that.”

“I guess we’re flying out after the reception then?” Michelle inquired; she was eager to hear more hints about the honeymoon.

“Yes, love,” William said; it sounded like he was pouring himself a new cup of coffee. “We’re going to try a new airline, call EOS. It embarked from JFK and lands at Stansted International, an airport right by my alma mater. EOS touts to be a better way to fly long distances; it will get us there in a little over six hours. From there we’ll take a chartered flight to... well, somewhere.” Michelle made a face. “You’re wrinkling up your adorable nose, aren’t you?” William said, knowingly.

“Yes,” Michelle admitted, smiling to herself. “You know me surprisingly well.”

“Right back at you, love,” her fiancé said, sounding amused.

“It’s 'right back atcha’,” Michelle corrected, chuckling to herself. William snorted.

“Piffle...” he demurred. “I guess I am putting in my last day at the office for a couple weeks, while you’ll be running about putting finishing touches on everything.”

Michelle got up and began undressing; she wanted to get an early start. She did so quietly, so that William wouldn’t guess what she was doing.

“Yep. And getting ready to meet myriads of relatives tonight,” Michelle said, sighing.

“You’ll do fine, my love,” William said, soberly. “I have every confidence in you.”

“I’ll feel certainly feel confident standing next to you,” Michelle said, smiling. “Every single girl in the hotel is going to want me dead once they see you...” Chuckling, William walked back into his room. Opening his closet, he looked at his various suits.

“I feel the same way regarding single men and you, love. On that topic, what are you wearing?” he asked, fingering a gray suit coat.

Silence met the line. “Hello?” he said, puzzled. In her room Michelle was staring at the phone, blushing.

“Yes, uh... I’m here... uh, well, nothing really. I'm about to shower. What a question...” she stuttered. William realized what he’d asked and how her answer fit; he grinned and cleared his throat.

“I meant what you are wearing tonight,” he enlightened his ladylove. Michelle felt like an idiot.

“Oh... um, I am going to get a dress this morning, with Laurel. A gray one, I think. I thought I’d wear garnets with it. You know, for fall.” Michelle rambled nervously, fanning her red face.

William leaned against the wall, an eyebrow raised at no one in particular.

“Let me understand this... you were undressing, while talking to me on the phone?” he asked.

“I was just getting ready to shower,” Michelle said, in a small voice. William closed his eyes and took in a very deep breath. He decided to take a shower himself, a cold one.

“Well, ah... I’ll see you tonight then. Seven, right?” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. Michelle was very embarrassed but managed to reply.

“Yes. I’ll be there a little early. The Conrad Suite, uh... is the room. Dinner will be light but very good.”

“Sounds good, love,” William said. He wondered if she was still undressed. Hitting his head slightly against the wall he forced himself to think of something else. “I’ll wear my gray suit then, to match your dress.”

“Oh, the one you wore that night at the gallery?” Michelle said, finally smiling. Smiling, William was impressed she remembered.

“The very one,” he replied. He turned on the water in the shower.

“Perhaps I should wear my pink dress,” Michelle said, thinking the suggestion over even as she said it.

“I vote for the gray,” William said, smiling. “It’s appropriate for meeting relations. Besides, I want to keep you in that dress all for myself. Bring it on the honeymoon.” Michelle blushed.

“Sure,” she said. “Anything else?” William smirked, knowing Michelle couldn’t see it.

“Yes. The entire contents of that pink-striped box, love,” he said. “And that tweed skirt.”

“And my black tights, I suppose,” Michelle said, biting her lip; she thought her man was just adorable.

“Definitely,” William said, raking his hand through his hair. “I’m going to hang up now. You don’t know what you do to me, love.”

“My apologies, William,” Michelle said, quietly. “Just know that I love you.”

“I do know it,” William said, smiling. He sighed. “See you tonight.”

“Absolutely,” Michelle replied, warmly. They hung up, though neither wanted to.

By the time Michelle was showered, dried and dressed, she heard the doorbell ring downstairs. Hoping up and down, she pulled her ankle boots on and grabbed her coat. Remembering her makeup, Michelle ducked back into the bathroom and hurriedly put just enough on to be passable. Laurel and the Entourage were already inside when Michelle hopped down the steps.

“You didn’t have to hurry, we’re early!” Laurel told her.

“William woke me up with a call about an hour ago,” Michelle said, smiling. Laurel sighed; her face looked a little pinker and happier than normal. Realization hit Michelle and she smiled again, but wider. “Luca asked you...” she observed, quietly. Laurel nodded, looking very happy.

“How’d you know that?” Daniels asked, looking completely baffled. “How could you possibly know that by just lookin’ at her face?”

“It’s a girl thing,” Laurel said, still blushing. Daniels shrugged and went into the kitchen, looking for food. Laurel turned to Michelle, her face like a child’s would appear after being told they are going to the beach. “I’m so excited!” she said, sighing. “Now we each have to get a dress! You for tonight, me for tomorrow.”

Michelle sighed, she saw her uncle reclining on the couch, reading his morning paper.

“I think some of this just might be tax deductible, Uncle Oscar,” she said apologetically. From behind his paper, Oscar chuckled.

“I only have one niece,” he said. “And, you’re only going to get married once.”

“True,” Michelle agreed, firmly. “I still am very grateful. Had I shouldered all the expense myself, my wedding would not have been anywhere near as... wonderful.” Oscar smiled and folded his paper; he tossed it onto the coffee table.

“I’m glad you’re making it how you want.” he said, looking at his niece. She suddenly appeared very grown up. “Don’t worry about it; your parents would have done the same, if not more.” Michelle smiled her gratitude, wanting to give him a huge hug; she did not, however.

An hour later, the helpful, resourceful and somewhat dictatorial Laurel had the tables turned on her. Michelle confiscated her clipboard and had a salesgirl in the dress boutique pile twenty gowns on the young, blond woman to try on. After twelve more, she finally found a suitable gown in a muted apricot shade to wear and emerged from the dressing room rather tired and irritable.

“I used to think shopping was fun,” she said, scowling at Michelle. Her shopping companion hid her smile in her hand; she handed Laurel her clipboard and asked the salesgirl if they had a long gray dress with long sleeves, in her size. The girl brought back one. Laurel snorted.

“Oh, sure... do it the easy way,” she said, pretending to pout. Michelle chucked softly and went to try it on. It did fit well; the light gray dress was made of linen but with a soft material lining of some kind underneath. The skirt fell in an A-line tube from an empire waist with a slit in back for easier walking; the square neckline looked well, and the long, slim sleeve complimented Michelle’s arms.

Looking in the mirror, she decided it was a reserved, respectable dress but with just enough fun to be elegantly alluring.

“Perfect for meeting The Relations,” she said, quietly.

Laurel liked the dress very much but scrutinized Michelle’s neck closely.

“You need garnets with that dress. They’d be perfect. A choker necklace and short, drop earrings,” she
said, decisively. Michelle opened her mouth to object but Laurel snapped her fingers. “None of that… no objections whatsoever; I know what I’m talking about. Do you want to impress William’s stuck-up relatives, or what?” Sighing, Michelle nodded. “Good,” Laurel said, smiling. “Let’s get these gowns wrapped and find a jewelry shop that has garnet chokers.”
 

It took Laurel about half an hour on her cell phone to locate this phantom piece of jewelry, which she seemed to find so imperative. It happened to be located in a seemly unassuming clothing boutique in the Lower East side. Laurel located the jewelry counter with little problem.

“I’ve been here before,” she said, smiling. “It’s affordable, but they have great taste.”

Michelle let the exuberant, young blond woman drape a couple different necklaces across her skin, and let her chose which one and which earrings. As much as Laurel seemed to like shopping, Michelle was fast growing tired of it all. For someone who liked the going to the Good Will, she felt like she’d accomplished a whole decade’s worth of shopping in just the last two weeks. Michelle tactfully kept this information to herself. By the time they had purchased all necessary evening-prior and final wedding items, it was nearly five o’clock. Battling Saturday dinner traffic was a challenge even for Drake.

Finally arriving at the Waldorf, Michelle spied Mr. Chan hovering by the front counter; he was waiting to show them to the Conrad Suite.

“It is all prepared; hors d’oeuvres and drinks at seven, dinner at eight,” he reported, walking them through a large corridor. “There is a small dressing room off to one side, with a full bath for your convenience.” Michelle was glad of that last part; she thanked Mr. Chan with words only, her arms full of bags. Both Daniels and Drake left to go get their respective dates and get ready for the party. Michelle had made it a special point to invite them; they’d been a little part of her dream coming true and Michelle felt it only right.

“Get in that bathroom and shower,” Laurel said, throwing a bottle of conditioner at Michelle. “The stylist will be here in a minute or two.”

“Stylist? I’m...”

“Yes, perfectly capable of doing your own hair. I know!” Laurel interrupted, smiling. She pointed to the shower. “Shower. Now.” She turned and marched out of the little dressing room. Shaking her head, Michelle smiled and locked the bathroom door after her. The knock on the door came as Michelle was toweling off.

“I’m not dressed yet.” Michelle said, slipping on her robe.

“I know,” Laurel said. “You can’t get dressed with wet hair. There are some robes hanging behind the door, I think.”

“Just you wait until you get married,” Michelle told her, amused. “I’ll make sure what goes around comes around.” Tying the robe securely, Michelle opened the door to find Laurel tapping her foot impatiently.

“While she’d doing your hair, I’ll just shower myself,” she said, disappearing into the bathroom.

Michelle turned and encountered a slender woman clad entirely in black standing by the door; she held a polished, wooden case in hand and possessed an icy glare. Two assistants accompanied the stylist, each holding black bags.

“Are they stylists or mercenaries?”
Michelle thought, hiding a smile. The black-clad woman produced a metal chair from somewhere and unfolded it with a flourish.

“Sit,” she said, scowling at Michelle. “Please.” The woman’s follow-up pleasantry helped thaw the air a little. Obeying, Michelle sat still; her hair was immediate sprayed with some rose-scented spray-in conditioner and bombarded with, not just one, but two hair-dryers, and brushes... brushes that pulled. Michelle made a face and squeezed her eyes shut. They were good, but no one is that good.