We let the production crew in on our conversations about Jamie. And our thoughts. The evening was capped off with Austin's surprise—a private viewing at one of the local theaters of the last season finale of Jamie, complete with reclining seats and popcorn. We let Sheri's people watch us watch our favorite show and the thing that had brought us together. It was thrilling to see it on the large screen.
At the end of the date, Austin presented me with a silver brooch in a classic style—two intertwined hearts beneath a crown and embellished with a Scottish thistle. When we went on Sheri's show for the recap of the date, we brought the house down.
Our passion for each other made our stars burn brighter. It sold the fantasy to Jamie fans everywhere, even internationally. Everything we did seemed to go viral with the force of a wildfire.
Of course we accepted the invitation from the Jamie show to do the promos. Not only did the producers make it financially enticing for us, there was nothing more thrilling that I could think of, short of saving the lives of all of my patients. The show wasted no time making the arrangements. I scheduled time off from the clinic, with their blessing, aided by the show offering help promoting our fundraising. Austin put the vacation on his calendar at work. We spent hours planning and dreaming about our Scottish vacation.
Though I hadn't said anything about it to Austin yet, I was trying to find a way and appropriate time to bring the subject up. When we were in the UK, I had to see Nigel and get my ring back.
Maybe it was only sentimentality, but that ring meant something to me. And nothing to him. He wouldn't dare pawn it. But he could hold it hostage forever. Say he lost it. Any number of devious things. He refused to send it to me, claiming he was afraid it could get lost "in the post," and since it was irreplaceable he wouldn't take the chance. Damn him. But he may have had a point.
He wasn't devious or vindictive in nature, but broken hearts can make even the sanest person do crazy, irrational things. Even crimes of passion have degrees of severity. First-degree jewelry hostage-holding was Nigel's surprisingly passionate, and stubborn, romantic felony.
I felt the burden more than ever to say goodbye to him the way I should have originally. Would have if not for the emergency with Beth. Now things were even more complicated because of Austin. When I flew to Beth's side, there was no other man. Would Nigel believe that? Or think I'd been looking all along?
Nigel had a quiet, jealous nature. Many times—and this was part of the problem between us—he'd told me that he'd understand if I slipped up and took temporary comfort with another man. As a doctor, he was sure I had many patients who were infatuated with me. And I was human, after all.
No matter how frequently or vehemently I protested that I had never even been tempted, a question of doubt remained in his eyes. Austin would only be proof.
Did it matter what Nigel believed now? It only mattered to my pride and sense of honor.
Austin and I quickly realized that if we were going to do the Highland gathering and the Jamie promos right, I needed a new Elinor costume, an everyday ensemble with a jacket or shawl.
That brooch had been a hint from him. I couldn't wear the red ball gown everywhere. For one thing, it was impractical. For another, it was evening wear and not the look Elinor was generally known for when she scrambled about the Highlands.
The Jamie costume department offered to make my costume for me. Insisted, really. Austin, however, pushed back, saying that wasn't the point of the promo. That wasn't the way cosplay worked. We had to make the costume. We had to impress with our skills. That was what sold the fantasy and made it fun.
Beth, who hadn't yet met him, and was patiently waiting for the opportune moment, agreed with Austin and insisted on helping with the costume design.
I had been keeping my family and romantic worlds separate. I had this irrational fear of jinxing things by having Beth meet him too early in the relationship. I wanted to be sure that this was something that would last, and for him to be sure, to have some faith it wasn't only a fantasy we were living. But it seemed like they were about to collide.
After much discussion, we agreed that the show could send us the Sinclair plaid material for the dress. We'd been unable to find anything authentic or even close. And I refused to learn to dye and weave our own wool, though Austin was, apparently, game for the challenge. The show shipped yards and yards of the expensive fabric to Beth's, along with many of the trimmings.
When the fabric arrived, we decided to make an event of it. A costume-making party of three. Beth insisted on inviting Austin over and into her inner sanctum—her sewing room. I impressed on him the honor she was bestowing, and the date was set, the wheels of costuming put in motion. With the gathering fast approaching, we were on a tight schedule.
* * *
Austin
Meeting the mom. That was what meeting Beth essentially was. I wanted to make a good first impression on her. I'd been planning a surprise for her, for the first time I met her, since Comicon. She'd wanted that Jamie figure and Blair had wanted to get it for her. I wanted to make them both happy.
I had been willing to buy it for her at any price. But since the show's popularity kept soaring, very few were for sale. But Blair, I knew, would be embarrassed if I spent the kind of money the dealers wanted.
Fortunately, I had a connection at the toy company up north of the city that made the figures. I got in contact with him. Coincidentally, he was looking to get in touch with me.
The lot they'd produced had sold out early last year after the successful first season of Jamie. He couldn't say much about production plans for the future, except to hint there was talk of making another lot with costumes and additional characters from the second season.
I was on the verge of making my own reasonable facsimile on my 3D printer when my buddy called. If I agreed to sign a nondisclosure and do a commercial for the company, he had something for me. Of course I agreed. Which was how I found myself in possession of three numbered, first-off-the-line Jamie figures in his season two costume—one for Beth, one for Blair, one for me. With the show's permission, I shot my buddy's commercial in an afternoon.
I arrived at Beth's carrying bags with the two dolls, my sewing scissors, and supplies, hoping I passed muster. My heart hammered when Blair answered the door. The sight of her always sent my heart soaring. How the hell had a nerd like me gotten so damn lucky?
Today the hammering was compounded by nerves. I had very little experience meeting the parents. A consequence of having so few girlfriends.
Blair threw herself into my arms, sending the bags swinging. I set the bags down and grabbed her, hands at her waist, kissing her hello with Beth standing in the background. I was old-fashioned, I guess. I wasn't sure this was the best introduction, but I couldn't help myself.
I picked up the bags. Blair took my arm and pulled me inside. "Beth, Austin. Austin, Beth, my mom, my aunt, my rock."
Unlike Blair, Beth was short. Thin from too many cancer treatments. Her dark hair had streaks of gray. She had crow's-feet at the corner of her eyes. But the family resemblance between them was apparent. Despite the height difference, they had the same slim build, the same shape of face, the same eyes. She had Blair's penetrating way of studying people and some of the same mannerisms.
Her gaze traveled down me to my costuming bag. "This is the famous Austin I hear so much about." She shot a teasing glance at Blair and looked back at me and my bags. "So you think you can sew, do you?"
"All the best tailors are men," I said.
She grinned. "We shall see, young man. We shall see."
I held one wrapped box with one Jamie doll out to her clumsily. I'd managed to find plaid paper to wrap it in. "For inspiration."
She took it and led the way into the living room. I handed Blair the other wrapped figure.
"One for me, too?" She kissed my cheek and whispered in my ear, "You are trying to impress."
"I'm doing my best."
"Sit down."
Beth studied the box.
Blair gave me a questioning look, took my hand, and guided me to the sofa, where she sat next to me with the package in her lap. She seemed suddenly younger, like the girl she'd been rather than the doctor she was. "Open it, Beth."
Beth looked at Blair. "These look like the same thing. We should open them together?" She turned to me for confirmation.
I shrugged. "Sure. Go ahead."
"He's not giving anything away," Blair said.
I smiled. "And give away the surprise?"
"You know, most people just bring flowers." Beth grinned. "But you didn't have to bring anything."
"I wanted to."
She shrugged and winked at Blair. "All right, then—go."
They opened the presents in almost exactly the same way—carefully pulling the ribbon and paper off.
Beth revealed the contents of hers first. She gasped when she saw it. "Jamie! These are impossible to get—" Then she really gasped. Her mouth fell open.
Blair was pulling her box out of the paper. The figure was packaged in a cardboard box with a clear plastic front panel that revealed the figure inside.
Her eyes went wide when she saw the contents. "Wait. This isn't the original Jamie. This is him in his second-season kilt." She turned to me.
I nodded, unable to wipe the stupid ear-to-ear smile off my face. "Fresh off the production line. First run. They're numbered."
Beth was staring at hers, too.
"How?" Blair said.
"I have a buddy."
She grabbed my face and kissed me again. Thoroughly. When she was finished, I told them the story.
"A connection at the pop figure plant?" Blair stared at me. "You never said."
"I'm a man of mystery. Every relationship needs some secrets," I said.
"Thank you." Beth held up the doll and smiled at him. "How can Jamie be so hot even in a big-headed, big-eyed doll?" Her voice was filled with pleasure. She looked at me with a soft, happy expression that showed how touched she was. "This means a lot. All the trouble you went to."
"Happy to." I squeezed Blair's hand. She looked at me gratefully.
Beth glanced at Blair, giving her a quick look that I hoped meant I was a keeper.
"Now the only question is—do I have to keep my darling Jamie in the box so it holds its value?" Beth admired it.
"If you'd rather have the money—you could make a handsome profit on it. First run and all. It won't be available for another few weeks and will probably sell out immediately. Otherwise, I'd say open it and enjoy it." I squeezed Blair's hand. She beamed at me and winked.
"Good plan. I will." Beth pulled him out of the box. "This little guy makes me smile." She laughed. "He can preside over us while we work. Inspiration. Come on. I'll show you my sewing room where I create my magic. And I want to see the tools and ideas you've brought."
Blair set her Jamie on the sofa as we stood. She whispered to me, "Good move. She likes you. She really likes you. And her first impression is important."
Beth's sewing room was large and airy, with good lighting and plenty of workspace. She had a high-end professional-grade sewing machine and serger that I envied.
She'd already begun sketching ideas for Blair's Elinor dress. I'd brought my own sketches. The first-meet tension broken between us by Jamie, Beth and I were soon engaged in a passionate design discussion.
Blair watched us, amused. "I love watching you two bounce ideas off each other. You play well together."
Beth nodded and smiled at me. "I underestimated you. I didn't expect you to be so knowledgeable."
"High praise!" Blair said.
Beth brought out the fabric the show had sent and spread it on her sewing table. "What do you think—can we get more than one outfit out of it?"
I ran my hand over it and studied it. "It has a nice weave. If we lay it out carefully—"
Blair interrupted, "If you're going to discuss the warp and woof of the fabric and whether to cut on the bias, I'm going to go get some work done. I have some patient charts to look over—"
Beth shook her head. "Hold on right there. You're the integral part of this operation. We need more of your measurements—"
"You have all my measurements," Blair said, playfully exasperated. "You've had them all for years. And you just took them again yesterday."
Beth raised an eyebrow and shot me a challenging look. "I'd like to see what my young apprentice can do with a measuring tape. And, FYI, I don't have your measurements in the new everyday corset and undergarments I made for you. Not since I finished the last of the hemming."
"Everyday undergarments?" I said, glancing between the women.
"Oh, aye," Beth said with a smirk. "Even back in Elinor and Jamie's day, they had special underclothes for fancy dress. Their equivalents of shapewear."
"I thought they wore shapewear every day?" I said.
"Some is more shape-inducing than others." Blair rolled her eyes and motioned to Beth. "Well, come on, if you insist on torturing and embarrassing me. I can't get into them myself."
Beth looked at me. "You didn't think I was going to let you make my baby's underwear, did you?" She laughed. "'Tisn't proper! I took the liberty of making them. They give us a foundation to start from."
I heard them laughing and whispering their way down the hall. I thought this was just a ploy so Beth could share her thoughts about me with Blair. I could have been wrong, but I didn't think so.
Chapter 8
Blair
"Well?" I said as Beth laced and tightened my corset. "You have an opinion on him. I know you do."
"He's hot," she said. "There's no question about that. Very handsome. A head-turner and ringer for Connor Reid."
"And?" I knew she wasn't finished. She hadn't said enough. She was stringing me along.
"And charming."
"And thoughtful and sweet. And comes bearing gifts." I let out a whoosh of breath as she tightened the corset. This was the part I hated, the loss of freedom and the feeling that the simple act of breathing was hard.
"He has good sewing tools," Beth said, continuing her tightening torture. She would lace me in as small as she could manage. "He seems to know his way around them. Always a good sign. I don't work with incompetent beginners."
I laughed. "And, of course, those are the most important things!"
Beth stood back to admire her work. She took me by the shoulders and turned me to face her, grabbing me by my upper arms. She looked me in the eye. "No, not by a long shot. The most important thing is the way he looks at you like he idolizes you. Worships you. Wants you. Like you're a prize he never expected to have."
"You saw all of that in the few minutes in the sewing room?" I said. "I thought you were admiring his scissors."
She laughed. "I see everything. But it doesn't take an expert to see what I saw. He's crazy about you. And that's the most important thing to me."
"But I don't want him to worship me—"
She shook me playfully. "He won't always. Not every minute. If you decide you want him—and don't play with this sweet man's heart, Blairest—those early worshipful feelings will fade into companionship and deep, abiding love.
"If a relationship is going to survive, it can't start out lukewarm. It has to start out intense, with everything powerful, every emotion heightened. Including desire." She sighed happily. "The key is to watch that it doesn't burn too brightly too quickly and burn itself out." She sounded wistful.
"I never had that myself. Never found that man who made me feel what I see in your eyes when you look at him. What I saw between your parents. And what I see in Austin when he looks at you." She paused. "I like him. And not just because he spent all that time and effort to get me a second-season Jamie pop figure before they're even officially released."
I smiled. "He is sweet."
"I give him my conditional approval, pending full approval when enough time has passed that no dark secrets or warning signs emerge. I don't expect them to.
I'm an excellent judge of character based on first impressions." She hugged me. "We'd better finish up and get back to him. He'll wonder what's keeping us."
I laughed. "I think he suspects."
Austin had his back to us, staring out the window, when we returned to the sewing room.
"We're back," I said.
"Am I allowed to turn around? You're in your undergarments," he said.
"You're going to have to if you're going to measure her." Beth tossed him a measuring tape as he turned around. "What do you think?"
"Not exactly tantalizing lingerie," he said. "A little modest for my tastes."
"Shut up!" I said, feeling somewhat self-conscious about having them both studying me in my undergarments as if I were a sewing dummy.
He appraised me with the discerning eye of a professional designer. "The panniers are smaller."
"The large ones are impractical for everyday wear and doing such chores, as the lady of the house must," Beth said.
He walked over to me. "May I?" He nodded to the long shirt I wore.
"Go ahead," I said, holding very still and trying not to give my excitement away. I was dressed more conservatively than I was in my street clothes, and we had spent considerable time naked together, but there was still something intimate about the idea of being in this kind of underwear in front of him.
He took the sleeve of the shirt and examined it closely. "Hand-stitched?"
Beth nodded, delighted. "For authenticity."
"It's very fine work," he said, winking quickly at me. He turned to Beth. "We're not planning to hand-stitch the entire skirt and jacket, I hope?"
She laughed. "Only the embroidery."
He shook his head. "You're kidding."
She pointed her finger at him. "That's a test, I know it. If this costume is going to look authentic, we have to pay attention to details. Leave the embroidery to me. I take it it's not your specialty?"
Almost Elinor: A Jet City Novel Page 8