“I remember...” he said, brightening. “The little urchin was running from his mum; he slammed right into my leg.” He shook his head, grinning. “He reminded me of myself, when things were simpler.” Looking at Michelle, William saw her regarding him with a soft look in her eyes.
“You smiled at him,” she said. “I had never seen you smile before but when you looked down at the boy there was… a glow that spread over your face, and the warmth of it radiated in that dismal crowd. I couldn’t rest until I’d put your expression on paper.” Michelle’s eyes brightened as she spoke.
William forgot his grumbling stomach and leaned towards her a little. This girl fascinated him; she had such a passion for art and it showed through her eyes and carefully chosen words. He felt he could watch her for hours. He was tempted to launch into a discussion on Monet just to hear her sweet voice and watch her lovely mouth form words.
Realizing he was staring, William straightened up, shaking his head a little. What spell was he under? He’d known this young woman only a few hours, and he’d spent all that time vastly enjoying himself. For the first time in years, William was looking forward to eating with company, something he normally avoided. He liked solitude and had for years; there was never any pressure to be this or that or act properly, but, after being with Michelle eating alone simply no longer appealed. Suddenly, William could see Michelle sitting with him for every meal he’d ever have. The idea of her constant company filled his soul with a warm comfort.
“William?” Michelle’s soft voice interrupted his thoughts. She looked amused at his daydreaming. “Are you tired?” she asked, tilting her head a little to one side. William grinned down at her, perusing her face with pleasure; she’d spoken his first name and naturally so. This was progress.
“Not a bit,” he said, warmly. “I was merely thinking how long it had been since I’d had such pleasant company.” He spoke with such sincerity that Michelle immediately dismissed her doubts of boring him to death. “I’ve never brought a date here,” William continued.
At his words, Michelle looked a bit taken aback.
“This is a date?” she wondered aloud; after a moment she allowed a smile to return to her face. “A date,” she said, nodding to herself. She looked up at William; he appeared amused. “Do you always ask out ragged street artists that you barely know?” Michelle asked, crossing her arms defensively. Chuckling, William lowered his eyelids a little.
“Only the pretty ones that run away,” he said in a low voice. He got what he was after; Michelle blushed again.
At that moment, a dark-clad waiter appeared bearing two pewter soup-plates. A large, wicker cornucopia of rolls was set down on the table as well and the server swept off, leaving the two hungry guests to themselves. William and Michelle exchanged a look of mutual relief... food. William was genuinely famished, having skipped lunch that day. He watched Michelle from the corner of his eye as she expertly flicked out her napkin and laid it across her lap.
“You’ve done that before,” he observed, grinning boyishly at his guest.
“Yes,” Michelle replied, returning his smile. “I was a server at four-star restaurant while I was at college. I’m resisting polishing the silver.” William chuckled as Michelle critically eyed her fork; how fun it would be to tell the owner his silver did not measure up to the standards of an unemployed Manhattan street-artist.
They dipped into their dinner with relish; the savory, thick soup was creamy and delicious, the fresh, buttery rolls the perfect accompaniment. William and Michelle spent several pleasant minutes eating in the warm atmosphere. The clink of glasses and the soft murmurs of quiet conversation sounded now and again but nothing disturbed the peace.
Michelle enjoyed every morsel; it reminded her grandmother’s clam chowder. As she ate, Michelle thought of her kindly 'Gramma Betty'; the lady had died several years earlier. She had owned a ‘cottage’ on the Chesapeake Bay, which was in reality a sprawling domicile by the water. Though well off, the woman has always done her own cooking; each Christmas, Michelle and her family flew out to see her. They’d make the special clam chowder together as well as dozens of different cookies. Later they’d sit out on the snowy veranda, watching the stormy, gray water, well bundled up with hot cocoa in hand. Deluged with fond memories, Michelle smiled down at her bowl, lovingly dipping a piece of bread into the soup.
Enjoying his own food, William snuck a few glances at Michelle; she did not eat as though starving but with such enjoyment he couldn’t help but smile. Rarely would women eat well on a date, in his experience; they usually ordered a few lettuce leaves or something and nibbled away daintily, pretending they did not feel anything as archaic as Hunger. Sitting by Michelle, William felt at home, like he was in his own living room; he was momentarily tempted to remove his shoes and slouch back into the seat.
Beside him, Michelle took another roll and sighed contentedly.
“Excellent,” she said, when William looked over. “It’s just like my grandmother’s chowder.” William felt interested to know more but Michelle didn’t elaborate. Wiping his mouth with the napkin, he sat back. It was good; such was the reason he came here; the food tasted home-made and fresh.
“One of my grandmothers used to make lemon curd on toast for breakfast,” he said, laying his napkin on the table. “She'd eat in her conservatory; it was the best breakfast, with the flowers inside and the rain outside running the glass.” Michelle leaned forward a little, drawn to William’s happy expression.
“That sounds lovely,” said she. “Thank you for the soup. I have not enjoyed an evening so much in... well, a long time.”
William heard the sincerity in Michelle’s voice and looked at her. His eyes dropped to her hand as it rested on the table; it looked lonely. He gently covered it with his own.
“Same here, Michelle,” he murmured. Michelle felt the air leave her lungs, momentarily; the moment felt similar to the one in the cab, before the driver has so rudely tossed them around. She didn’t think William would try to kiss her again, and in public, too. They barely knew each other.
“Dessert?” William asked; his voice walked firmly through Michelle's thoughts.
“Um... dinner was perfect,” she said, stammering a little. “Nothing more is needed.” The corners of William’s eyes crinkled as he grinned.
“Oh, I don’t know,” he mused, aloud. “I’ve never known a woman to turn down...” He glanced down at the gilt-edged dessert card. “... Dark Chocolate Mousse Cake?”
Michelle forced herself not to lick her lips.
“Completely... utterly... unfair,” she said, in defeat. Grinning, William beckoned at a nearby waiter.
“Want to share one?” he asked. “I doubt I could eat a whole slice.” Michelle nodded, feeling a little surprised at the suggestion. The sharing of food was normally reserved for intimate couples. They’d met on a street corner, for crying out loud. Looking at William, however, Michelle saw he was leaning back comfortably, apparently unconcerned with the doubts she was obliged to feel for him.
The cake proved incredibly rich. William watched as Michelle savored her bites; he allowed himself a few fork-fulls then urged his guest to eat the rest. When Michelle balked at the idea, William stole her fork and tried to feed her another bite. Laughing, his guest lightly pushed his arm away; she slyly stole his fork and stabbed a piece of cake with it. She lifted the bit of dessert to William’s lips; he let her feed him, keeping a soft hold on her wrist. Michelle realized she’d leaned in a little too close to her date and pulled slowly out of his grasp, feeling like she’d crossed a bit of a line.
William signaled for the check.
“You can only pay if I get to leave a tip,” Michelle said, trying not to sound demanding. William began to object; Michelle laid her hand on his arm. “Please?” she asked, looking at him. “I would feel... strange, if you didn’t allow me.”
“Good heavens...” William thought, looking at Michelle, “I’d love to allow you so much mo
re...” He smiled at her and nodded, rewarded by his companion's answering smile.
Taking out a ten-dollar bill, Michelle quickly folded and re-folded it into a series of tiny triangles, at last carefully drawing it out into the shape of a little, flying bird; her hands flew so swiftly that William hardly knew what she was doing until she placed it on the table. He smiled down at the green-tinted crane.
“I love doing that,” Michelle said, shyly looking up at him. “It’s something different.”
“Well, aren’t you clever,” her date said, flashing her a grin. William signed off on the check quickly and grabbed his coat. “Now, my origami-folding, chocolate-feeding companion,” he said, leaning towards Michelle a little; she giggled at his words. “I must admit that I honestly don’t wish to part company with you.”
Michelle’s expression sobered when she encountered William’s eyes; he looked almost sad.
“Me either, William,” she said, sincerely. “This entire evening has been… wonderful.” To William’s puzzlement, Michelle grimaced after she spoke.
“Something the matter?” he asked.
“It’s such a trite word,” Michelle said, wistfully. “I wish no one had ever used the word ‘wonderful’ so I could use it to describe tonight without sounding like I've never picked up a dictionary...”
William laughed; his date looked rather adorable with her nose wrinkled up.
“Ah, Michelle... I have not laughed so much in ages,” he said, scooting out from the booth. Offering a hand to Michelle, he immediately noted the soft warmth of her skin when their hands to connected. Clearing his throat, he helped his companion into her coat; the subtle scent of her apple blossom perfume didn’t help matters much. As William led Michelle out of Marie’s, the idyllic orchard vision haunted his brain with a vengeance.
“Apples aren’t even blossoming this time of year...” he silently admonished himself.
Michelle unconsciously slipped her arm through his as they gained the front stairs; the cold air made her want to draw close to her new acquaintance. Turning his collar against the wind, William smiled down at Michelle.
“Let me see you home,” he said, as they descended the stairs. “I would love to take a stroll with you, or get coffee... anything other than end our evening.” William surprised himself by blurting out such information. It sounded rather desperate.
“But?” Michelle rescued him.
“But... I have to work tomorrow,” William admitted, heavily.
For the first time in years, he was actually dreading going home. Normally, he couldn’t wait to get home, to kick off his shoes and drop onto his favored couch. Yet, tonight, William did not want to part from this intriguing young woman who made him laugh. Frankly, he really wanted to bring her home with him but he knew that would definitely scare her off. Michelle fairly radiated ‘good girl’ vibrations, if such things existed. Still, William stood on the sidewalk, toying with ideas he shouldn’t.
“You may,” Michelle said.
Williams looked at her, momentarily confused. “See me home... if you’d still like to, that is.” Michelle continued; she wondered at the fleeting look of guilt on William’s face, but dismissed it.
“Ah... absolutely,” William said, smiling down at her. He delighted in the feel of her arm holding his. Reaching up, he tucked a wispy strand of hair behind her ear; he decided he liked her ears very much; they were soft, pink and irresistible. Michelle shivered just a little at his touch.
“I... uh... won’t be able to... um, invite you in,” she managed to say, striving hard not to blush.
“What, no cognac on hand?” William teased. Michelle looked up with a small grin.
“No, I just... don’t invite anyone into my room,” she explained; she glanced up at with William with hesitation, half expecting him to laugh. He did not. Touched by Michelle’s forthright manner, William smiled. He liked that she absolutely did not want to give the wrong impression.
“I understand, Michelle,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting anything.” Michelle’s shoulders relaxed a little; she felt her anxiety draining away.
“Thank you,” she said, with gratitude.
A taxi pulled up in front of them, as if by magic; Michelle didn’t remember William signaling for one.
“You said—some time ago--that you lived in a 'nice' hotel,” William said, shutting the cab door after them. “Where should I send the driver?” Michelle giggled softly; this was going to be fun. Clearing her throat, she mustered her best sophisticated voice.
“The Waldorf-Astoria,” she said, lifting her chin. William smiled.
“Now, now...” he joked. “You may as well just tell me. I’ll find out sooner or later.” Looking closer at Michelle’s face, William sobered; her eyes were bright with mirth but there was no falsehood in them. “You’re... serious?” he said, incredulous.
Unable to hold back her laughter, Michelle told William about her arrangement with the hotel in between breaths. William seemed impressed.
“You knew when you told me that I wouldn’t believe the Waldorf… didn’t you?” Wiping her eyes, Michelle nodded.
“I love telling people where I live,” she admitted. “Why lie? The truth is far more interesting.”Allowing himself a smile, William took her gloved hand.
“You are full of surprises,” he said. “Well then, to the Waldorf-Astoria, driver!” he ordered, speaking the sentence as only a Englishman is able. The cab sped off but soon after slowed in the after-dinner traffic. For once, William did not mind the languid pace; it meant more time with Michelle.
“So, any other ‘arrangements’ I should know about?” he inquired, after a few moments. Michelle gave him a shy upward glance.
“Nothing bad,” she told him. “Once a quarter I look over the books for a small day spa. They give me a free body wrap and a mineral shower. Those are amazingly relaxing... just like being back in a Colorado hot springs.” Michelle’s eyes took on a dreamy look as eh spoke. She looked quite alluring so relaxed; William was tempted to lean down to kiss her.
“Slow... take it slow, old boy,” he thought. Their newly established association was tenuous enough without rushing into physical contact.
“Colorado,” he mused, aloud. “That’s where you’re from, correct?”
At this, Michelle’s eyebrows shot up. William felt that perhaps an explanation was due. “Well… when you didn’t come back to your corner, I looked up the name on my mother’s portrait with a private investigator I know,” he said. “You mentioned Stanford in your little shout at me that day; I found your name in the alumnus list.”
Michelle's face colored a little at the mention of her verbal-outburst that day.
“Yes,” she acknowledged, after a short pause. “I grew up in Denver. My parents sent me to Stanford University, in California; my mother also went there.” As she spoke Michelle struggled with welling emotions; her parents were not a safe subject.
“Graduate School of Business, Financial Accounting,” William recited. “... and a minor in Drawing. An odd combination.” He reached for her hand. “The investigator also found that rather unpleasant business with the Johnson & Black Accounting Firm.”
Michelle gave a short sigh of exasperation; just hearing that name caused a bit of resentment to boil up within her.
“Yes. Some things you can dance around in taxes,” she said, her voice sounding a little forced. “Then there are illegal means; popular ones... but still illegal.”
“So, that’s why you were blacklisted,” William said, noting her discomfort.
“Yes,” Michelle said, leaning back against the seat. “It’s amazing how ethics can cost you not only your job but the chance of being re-hired in the field, ever again.” She looked out the window, willing herself not to cry.
“And, with four or five people clamoring for every job, I can see why you sell your drawings out on the corner,” William said, gently. Michelle gave him a side-long look.
“No pitying the bedr
aggled street artists, now,” she said. “I know I have a lot to be thankful for. I may have lost my apartment but at least I don’t have to sleep out on the streets, or in a shelter. Working out there is not so bad, you know. All things considered, it has been great experience for face studies.”
Making an effort, William refrained from smiling at Michelle’s little speech; her chin had lifted ever so slightly as she spoke. Sit was clear to him that she wished no one to feel sorry for her. Despite this, he felt a rapidly increasing desire to sweep her into his arms and promise to take care of her forever.
William gave himself a mental slap. Here he was sitting with a stranger, albeit a lovely and good one, but a stranger nonetheless. Thoughts o f companionship, a relationship... even of marriage occurred to him so quickly that he felt unprepared to deal with them at the moment. Bewildered by his own brain’s leaps into the unknown William gazed at Michelle, thinking fantastic things.
Michelle saw a soft look descend into William’s face; his eyes appeared to harbor a intensely pensive expression. She was dying to know what was on his mind but feared to pry. She contented herself with timidly squeezing his hand.
“I do alright, William,” she said, reassuringly. “Please don’t worry about me.” Her companion smiled back at her; it was the ethereal smile Michelle had captured in her portrait. Michelle found herself gazing back at him. In spite of her insecurities, she wanted very badly to believe that William would be interested in her for a long time to come; logic told her she should not allow that hope to take flight so soon.
Sitting beside her, William grew curious about the conflicting expressions in Michelle’s eyes. There was so much in her face he felt fascinated by... and yet, he could see she possessed a pointed fear, one that he could not quite fathom. William wondered if perhaps all she needed was a little comfort. He needed some as well; more than anything he wanted to be the one to bring her what solace a man was able.
“I can see you take care of yourself, sweetheart,” he murmured; he stopped, realizing he’d called her ‘sweetheart’. Blushing, Michelle looked out her window. The taxi was not far from her hotel now; just a few more blocks.
Draw Me A Picture Page 6