Stevahn repeated his desire to have a suit made by Borsen.
“Of course sir. Would you be interested in ready-made, custom-fitted, or the exclusive service? If you wish to be attended by Borsen himself, there is an additional fee.”
“Money is no object,” Stevahn said. “I’ll have the full exclusive service from Borsen.”
“Very good sir.” The man opened an appointment book, while Stevahn swore inwardly. The waiting list, of course. Oh gods, I’ll never meet Borsen! Why don’t I just go pound sand?
Just as the man was looking at dates three months away, to Stevahn’s utter disappointment, a door opened to his left.
“Varens, has Menders turned up yet?” It was Borsen’s voice.
“No,” the man behind the counter said, far more casually than he’d spoken to Stevahn. “There’s a west wind come up, so he’s probably been delayed.”
What does a west wind have to do with someone being delayed, Stevahn thought waspishly.
“Damn.” Borsen’s voice again.
“I have a gentleman here enquiring about the exclusive service,” the counter man, obviously Varens, said, winking at Stevahn.
“Fine, I have time. Send him in. Here, before I forget again, that drawing for your son, fifth page in the book,” Borsen said. A sketchbook sailed out toward the counter. Varens caught it neatly in mid-air.
“Please go in, sir,” he said to Stevahn. “We’re rather informal up here.” He smiled, not knowing that Stevahn’s returned smile was so warm because he now saw his wedding ring, knew he had a son and was not a special friend of Borsen’s. You are pathetic, he scolded himself, going quickly toward the door before anything came up to stop him, possibly Menders, whoever he was, coming for his appointment.
He found himself in the workroom with which he was already familiar. Borsen was leaning over his table, writing something, which he finished almost immediately. He turned and smiled.
I’m dying, Stevahn thought. I’ve never been this bad, ever.
“Good morning,” Borsen said. Then he looked curious. “Have we met?”
“Yes, outside your door a few months ago, right before you hired a beggar woman,” Stevahn answered.
“Oh yes! You came very close to having a knife held at your throat, you startled me so badly,” Borsen said lightly, with such humor that Stevahn couldn’t be insulted. “I was a bit of a boor, I admit. I can be when I’m frightened. I’m glad it didn’t keep you from coming to see me.”
He just wants to sell a suit, don’t get your hopes up, Stevahn muttered inwardly. He shook the hand Borsen held out.
“What sort of suit are you looking for?” Borsen asked. Stevahn tried to think over his wardrobe rapidly so he didn’t end up ordering something he already had.
“Blue… for winter, since it’s coming,” he said awkwardly.
“Dark blue?”
“Uh… yes.”
“Wool? Silk and wool?”
“Uh… silk and wool, yes.” He sounded like a rather foolish echo.
“I have some nice ones, but first let me take your measurements,” Borsen suggested, picking up his tape measure.
I have to take my clothes off, Stevahn moaned inwardly. I never thought of it.
“There’s a screen over there, if you wish,” Borsen directed, taking his eyes off of Stevahn to draw the curtains. Stevahn looked out the window toward his office to see his secretary watching, her mouth open. He rapidly stuck out his tongue at her before Borsen twitched the drapes shut. Stevahn steeled himself and removed his jacket.
“If you could undress to your undergarments,” Borsen said kindly, indicating the screen. Stevahn hurried behind it with relief, knowing he could never have stripped in front of the young man without having apoplexy.
He pulled off his clothes, bumping the screen several times. Each time Borsen asked him if he was all right. He laughed nervously each time, saying he was fine.
Then he knocked the screen down.
***
“And then he knocked the screen down,” Borsen said as Varnia rocked back and forth in her chair, laughing.
“Oh the poor man,” she gasped, wiping her eyes.
“He was so nervous,” Borsen replied. “I felt terrible, but nothing I could say or do seemed to help.”
“Maybe he’s never been custom fitted before.” Varnia reached for her water glass and took several swallows, trying to catch her breath.
“I thought that, but the suit he wore was definitely custom tailored. Not well, mind you, but he’s hard to fit. So it isn’t as if he’s never been to a tailor before.” Borsen shook his head and turned his attention to his plate.
“Why is he hard to fit?” Varnia asked when he reached a stopping point. He’d been eating ravenously between bouts of regaling her with the story of his nervous and funny client.
“Bottom heavy. Not fat but a heroic build, a large frame and thickset. Big thighs, big arse – one of those fellows where the tail of the suit jacket always gaps open. You have to cut the back of the jacket on the bias to get it to flow right and weight the tail so it doesn’t swing open. Most tailors don’t bother or know that’s what they need to do. They just cut the jacket bigger and it fits like a sack.”
“Probably why he’s nervous. He’s embarrassed by it.” Varnia got up to bring over the jug of milk. Borsen was drinking it as if he’d been crossing a desert. “Did you eat today?”
“I was busy, but yes, Uncle came and took me to lunch,” he replied. “Just hungry. When am I not?”
“So when does your bottom heavy man come back?” Varnia asked after a moment.
“Two days. I’d better get in early and get started on his pattern – and I’m doing it directly on muslin. I can’t even imagine trying to fit a paper pattern on him. He’d manage to set it on fire.”
Varnia laughed again, wiping at her eyes.
***
After three fittings, Stevahn gave up. He became utterly tongue tied in front of Borsen or said things that verged on the moronic. He also realized Borsen saw many people a day. Though he was invariably polite and pleasant, he was doing a job, just as Stevahn directed people’s investments at his family’s bank.
At his fourth fitting, the suit was nearly finished and Borsen said a fifth fitting wasn’t even necessary. Stevahn asked if he could have a fifth fitting before taking it home, just to be sure.
An expession crossed Borsen’s face for a split second that made Stevahn realize this was an error and that he had insulted the young man. He had no idea how to make it right. He decided to play stupid, which he was already excelling at.
At the fifth fitting he put on the completed suit and got a good look at himself in the mirror.
Stevahn didn’t have an unattractive body when stripped, but he was difficult to fit. His suits, though carefully made, never quite became him because, as his last tailor had said, he had a “sway back and big arse”. This suit, made entirely by hand and costing a fortune, fit as if it had grown on him. It made his sway back and big arse assets and pared pounds from his waistline. Best of all, Borsen had strategically weighted the hem of the jacket to prevent it riding up or swinging open awkwardly, as all Stevahn’s other suit jackets did.
The suit was worth every pennig – except that he was no closer to being friendly with the little tailor than he had been when he walked into the place for the first time.
“It’s wonderful,” Stevahn said, gazing into the mirror where he could not only see his own greatly improved reflection, but Borsen’s as well. Borsen smiled.
“I’m glad you like it,” he answered, his voice even and neutral.
Stevahn made another appointment for another suit with the helpful Varens. When he turned up at Borsen’s workroom for the intial fitting, Borsen appeared surprised.
“Unless you ate a great deal this week, we don’t need new measurements,” he said cheerily. “We won’t need to do a pattern fitting either, unless you want to make changes in the style.”<
br />
Stevahn had no idea what changes could be made, so opted for choosing another fabric, this time a dove grey. Borsen shook his head.
“It’ll turn you bright red,” he said, turning Stevahn to a mirror and holding the fabric up in front of him. Stevahn had the unpleasant experience of seeing himself suddenly looking on the verge of apoplexy. “It has a yellow tone to it. But this one, very close in intensity, but with a blue cast – look.”
It was better, toning down Stevahn’s naturally reddened cheeks. After the three fittings necessary for that suit, he was no closer to being friendly with Borsen.
He ordered another suit. Black. He managed to request a style change requiring additional fittings. Sometimes he succeeded in speaking lucidly about things without sounding like a fool or being unintentionally insulting. Borsen was professional, friendly in a businesslike way, as he would be with any customer – and that was all.
Stevahn ordered another suit, a grey pinstripe, remembering to choose a bluish grey. He’d heard stripes required additional fittings. They did. He made no headway during the extra fitting sessions, no matter how he tried to interest his patient but distant tailor.
He’d taken to browsing the other departments of Borsen’s regularly, hoping that he would bump into him or just catch sight of him. He watched Borsen’s workroom assiduously while dictating. His secretary had given up on him, to his relief, and was now engaged to a man who worked in Accounts.
Desperate after six months of buying suits, a year after having seen Borsen for the first time, Stevahn did the only thing possible.
He ordered another suit.
***
Dear Katrin,
I understand why you won’t be coming to the store grand opening. It’s all right, so dry your tears and know I love you always. One day you’ll come in and be amazed at my grand place, which I will admit still amazes me. I can’t believe I have all this and what is more, that I’m a success! I have the aching muscles and the weariness to remind me of how I became a success, but it’s still very new and exciting to me.
I miss you very much and I keep trying to find a way to get over there, but I just can’t do it. I’m so backed up with suits I have to make entirely by myself that I can’t believe it.
Making matters worse, I have a customer who has now ordered six suits in total, one for every month since he’s started coming in here! I had a free hour when he wandered in six months ago. I let him jump the queue, much to my regret, because he’s taken up scads of my time ever since. He’s now bought every possible color suit that he can without having one in a shade that will make him appear on the verge of a stroke. So possibly that will be the end of Mister Rondheim and I’ll be able to get moving on some of these other things that are hanging over my head.
Do not fret any more. We do what we can, when we can. You have to listen to me and believe because I’m Thrun, which means I’m very wise. I may also be older than you, and therefore, your elder.
Love,
Borsen
***
Borsen stepped out of the elevator at the top level of his store, the solarium, which was now open to waiting customers – and was presently empty.
It was late at night after the official grand opening of Borsen’s. The event had been attended by everyone and anyone who counted in Erdahn and had been enormously enjoyed by all. Menders and Eiren had managed to stay until ten before having to leave to take the steam launch back to The Shadows.
Katrin couldn’t come, of course. She wasn’t emotionally able to be near the Palace, or the memories.
Borsen was alone in the building now, as he often was late at night. It was still amazing to him that his store was up and running, outstripping every other business in Erdahn. The work was crushing. At times he was so exhausted that he sank down on his bed or stretched out in his bathtub and cried like a baby.
Now he understood the stories people at The Shadows told about his uncle working like a peasant for the first five years he and Katrin had been there. People’s lives literally depended on the amount of wood Menders and Lucen had been able to cut – Menders had cut wood for hours every day, to the point where he was continually physically exhausted.
Varnia was Borsen’s lifeline, keeping the house running and freeing him from any domestic responsibilities. He was able to work the eighteen hours a day that were necessary and he could be sure of a hot meal and good company when he did get home.
He stood looking over the city, a small glass of wine in his hand, thinking of The Shadows. He must get over there. Katrin needed him. He missed her painfully. He missed The Shadows painfully as well but he was so overwhelmed with work he couldn’t see a way to go home any time soon.
***
Stevahn settled back in his chair while the waiter removed his soup plate. His sister, Stellia, smiled at him.
It was their tradition to have a bang-up lunch at Malvar’s a couple of weeks prior to Winterfest. In recent years, their parents had opted to travel to the warmth of Surelia for a good part of the harsh Mordanian winter. This lunch meeting gave Stevahn and Stellia an opportunity to plan for the annual migration and do some catching up without the rest of their family present.
“You’re beautifully turned out, Stev. You’ve found someone who can fit you properly, at last.” Stellia nodded a thank-you to the waiter who bore away her soup setting.
With some pride, Stevahn displayed the monogrammed B on his suit jacket lining. Stellia’s eyes widened.
“A Borsen suit? I’ve heard he’s a wizard with cloth!” Stellia studied the details of the jacket. “I wonder if you could get me in to see him? I could use a new riding habit before the family leaves for Surelia”
“I can try. It was entirely by chance that I jumped the queue,” Stevahn replied. “I went up there one day to make an appointment. He had an hour free and took my measurements and order. So ever since then, for the other suits, appointments haven’t been a problem.”
Stellia gave him a teasing look.
“Other suits. How many? You’ve never been a clotheshorse.”
“Six. I’d be mad not to have a wardrobe made now that I’ve found someone who can fit my big arse.”
“He should be able to fit your big sister for a riding habit if you’ve bought six entirely handmade suits,” Stellia laughed.
Stevahn was glad their main courses arrived at that moment. He and Stellia had always been close and normally he would willingly disclose any romantic aspirations he had to her. Unfortunately, considering how his plans regarding Borsen had completely foundered, he was reluctant to discuss them with anyone. What’s more, he wasn’t entirely sure, after his latest anxious accident during a fitting, that he could ever bring himself to go back to Borsen’s workroom, much less beg the favor of having Stellia jump the queue.
“I’ve been in Borsen’s of course,” Stellia said as they started their main courses. “It’s absolutely amazing – and people say he’s just a boy. You could get lost in the place for hours. Of course he wasn’t out on the shop floor serving customers. He probably sees people somewhere in the upper floors.”
“Third floor, opposite my office,” Stevahn said without thinking. He froze, then looked up and met Stellia’s eyes.
“So you gaze on him?” she laughed. “Of course, you’ve met him personally with all those suits. What’s he like? I’ve heard he’s brown as a Samorsan and has a foreign accent so thick you can cut it with a knife. Some people are saying he’s a Hetzophian prince.”
Stevahn’s eyebrows went up.
“I hadn’t considered – he looks like he might be Surytamian, but he’s darker than they usually are,” he ventured. “I would never ask, of course.”
“I haven’t seen you this uncomfortable since Selnor treated you so badly,” Stellia said, putting her fork down and extending her hand to him across the table. “Whatever is the matter? Is it getting left behind here at Winterfest? You can tell me, Stev.”
He took her hand, r
aised it to his lips and kissed it.
“My dear girl,” he smiled. “No, I don’t mind manning the bank for Winterfest – Pappa and Mamma need to go to Surelia after they were ill this autumn and they’ll need you with them.”
“Then what is bothering you? I thought we could always be frank with each other.” Her eyebrows quirked a bit, as they always did when she was concerned over a loved one. “Stev, I know when something’s wrong! Out with it, or I’ll tell Pappa!”
He laughed aloud and relaxed.
“You’ll tattle then, eh?” he played along.
“It you don’t let me know, I shall,” she said, truculently raising her chin as she did when they quarreled as children. Then she stopped teasing and went very serious.
“You’re in love with Borsen,” she said very softly.
“I never could hide anything from you,” he said, just as softly.
“But that’s wonderful!”
Stevahn shook his head wryly.
“My dear, he doesn’t know it and considering what a fool I make of myself when I’m around him – I’m just as glad he doesn’t know.”
Stellia put her head on one side.
“Brother, dear – you are a very self-assured man, or you were until the end of your affair with Selnor – and thank the gods we’ve seen the last of that little felschat,” she said intensely. “How could a man who tells entire nations how to handle their money make a fool of himself in front of a tailor?”
“Every single time I’m in his presence I say the most idiotic things, some of them insulting. It’s like those stories where the princess is cursed to have toads jumping out of her mouth every time she speaks. And I shake the entire time I’m around him. He must think I have the palsy – and that I’m a rude, simpleminded fool.”
“Good gods, what did you say to him?” Stellia asked.
Love and Sacrifice: Book Two of the Prophecy Series Page 44