Draw Me A Picture

by Meredith Greene

  “I will,” Michele said; she intended to. She hoped William would like this place, though she did not know if he even liked Italian food.

  The owner himself led them though the main seating room; Michelle admired the cleanliness of the earth-toned tile floors and the whiter-than-white tablecloths. All then table were in the small bistro style, high off the floor with tall chairs. A fresh red rose in a thin, silver vase adorned each table; sunlight streamed in from large semi-circle windows set into the wall on three sides of the room. The atmosphere was light and fresh; perfect for enjoying the flavorful carnival that is Italian cuisine. They were not seated there but led up a wrought iron staircase that wound around to a second story and out onto a balcony that had been closed in with windows. A slightly larger table sat in the light; beside it potted rose bushes sat basking in the warmth of the fall sun, well guarded inside from the cold.

  “Beautiful...” Michelle said, with her hand to her chest. Marco appeared pleased at her expression.

  “Grazie,” he said, bowing slightly. He pulled a chair out for her and snapped her napkin with flair before laying it in her lap. Oscar pulled his own seat and tossed the napkin to the side. He looked up at Marco.

  “I’m in the mood for lasagna,” he stated. The Italian considered this a moment.

  “There are two,” he began. “One is vegan...” Oscar lifted a disapproving eyebrow. “The other has my grandmother’s handmade anise sausage, mushrooms and artichoke hearts.”

  “That’s the one for me,” Oscar said, nodding. “I’ll have it with a doppio malto.” Marco nodded; he looked over at Michelle. She bit her lip.

  “I know it must be very common to order this... but I love fettuccine Alfredo,” she said. Marco smiled.

  “It is not ‘common’, carina,” he said, jovially. “A dish for which Italian cuisine is famous, no? You like the simple, good things. We have an Alfredo you would die to taste again.” Oscar laughed.

  “Just bring us the food, Marco,” he said, grinning. The owner snorted.

  “Does she want just water to drink?” he queried, gesturing towards Michelle.

  “Have you ever had an Italian soda?” Oscar asked his niece. Michelle shook her head. “Bring her something that would go with Alfredo.” The owner gave a mocking bow and walked off, mumbling something to himself.

  “I’ll risk sounding obvious and say you must come here a lot,” Michelle remarked. Oscar chuckled.

  “Yeah,” he said, heaving a short sigh. He looked out the windows; the view was mainly of the tall buildings across the street, but one could also watch the people and cars below. “I come up here most; it’s private. I think they keep it for me ‘cause I tip way too much.” He looked over at Michelle; she was watching his face with a steady look in her eyes.

  “I can see you want to ask me about something, Uncle,” she said, quietly. “Please don’t hesitate. Too much time has been lost between us to worry about offending one another.”

  To her surprise, Oscar burst out laughing.

  “That settles it.” he said, chuckling. “I know for sure you’re my niece.” He looked over and saw Michelle’s puzzled expression. “Gregory’s have the gift of frankness. It’s in our blood. Must be a Scottish thing... I dunno.” Michelle smiled a little and then sobered; his words sparked to memory a question that had formed in her mind since her uncle had come back into her life.

  “If I may, sir... why did you change your last name?” she asked. Oscar's expression grew more serious at her words; he did not seem insulted by the question.

  “I changed it before going into the military,” he answered, after a moment. “My dad didn’t like the idea of his oldest son joining the Marines. Vietnam was a bad word back then, you know. But, I was 18 and hot-headed... so, I had my name changed and joined up.”

  Michelle leaned her elbows on the table, resting her chin in her hands.

  “Mom never said anything about that,” she said. “How long were you in the military?”

  “Eight years active, four in the reserves,” Oscar replied, fiddling with a table napkin. “Once, I was assigned to guard at the US Embassy in London. Nice gig, no action… but one day a whole crew of contractors descended on the place from the States, doing a complete remodel. They worked like madmen. I’d never seen a project get done so fast. It impressed me and I decided when I got out of the service, I’d like to be in construction getting government contracts.”

  “Wow,” was all Michelle could think of to say, at first; her uncle’s past seemed quite a whirl of activity. “So, after the military you worked in construction all those years, and then decided to switch careers again?” Oscar cleared his throat.

  “Sort of,” he said, sitting up. “Having to hide from unstable rebel squads out for westerner blood was kind of a wake-up call. I do business now in democratic countries only.” Michelle smiled.

  “I think you ought to write your life experiences down,” she said, affectionately. “It would be a riveting action adventure novel... better than Tom Clancy.” Chuckling, Oscar shook his head.

  “No way,” he said. “I have all his books.”

  Their lunch soon arrived; they could smell it several seconds before it even appeared. Michelle stomach rumbled, making her redden a little with embarrassment. If Oscar heard, he didn’t let on.

  “Wow, that’s a lot of food...” Oscar said, as the waiter set down a white platter before him. The plate held a size-able slab of lasagna accompanied by fragrant garlic bread. The drink he ordered earlier turned out to be an Italian beer, which Marco poured with ceremony into a tall, chilled glass. Michelle’s bowl of noodles in white sauce smelled heavenly; beside her plate Marco set a slender glass of a light orange drink, filled with bubbles.

  “Apricot soda,” Marco announced with a smile. “Enjoy! I will be back with more bread later.”

  “He’s bringing more food?” Michelle asked, looking worried. “It would take me two days to eat just this.” Oscar nodded, looking down at his own plate.

  “Don’t worry,” he said, picking up his fork. ”They expect you to take a bunch home.”

  “It smells delicious,” Michelle said, inhaling the heady aroma of cheese-enhanced cream sauce.

  The food tasted excellent. It took them both about forty minutes to eat only half their food. The fact that they kept talking during the meal probably didn’t hasten matters much. Michelle felt like she’d learned more about her Uncle in the last hour than she had in her whole life. His first law partner, Arthur Felix, had died some years earlier.

  “He was a great lawyer,” Oscar said, in between bites. “The guy worked until he was well into his eighties. Taught me a lot about takeovers and didn't mind taking on a greenhorn like me as his partner. When he died, I kept the name of the company the same. Has a nice ring to it.”

  “It does,” Michelle agreed. “I take it there are no other partners.” Her uncle shook his head.

  “Nope.” Oscar paused to finish off his beer. “I’d like to keep it that way.”

  Michelle ate for a minute in silence. Inwardly she wondered about this legal realm her uncle and fiancé were mixed up in. It seemed a rather desperate business, fraught with competition, uncertainty and constant variables. Despite this, however, both her uncle and William were respectable, hard-working men. Perhaps the television-enhanced stereotypes of lawyers were largely unfounded.

  “So, you’re getting’ married in two weeks?” Oscar asked, cutting another bite of his lasagna. Michelle nodded, chewing her mouthful slowly; she wanted to have a bowl of these noodles every day for the rest of her life; it was that good.

  “Yes,” she said, after swallowing. “I’m planning the wedding, myself; William’s mother has offered to help, but... I really want to do it my way.”

  Oscar seemed to consider this a moment.

  “So… you’re going to do the whole wedding yourself?” he asked; he looked over at his niece. She seemed perfectly serious.

  “I am,” Michel
le answered him, meeting his gaze. Her uncle was regarding her with a peculiar expression, like he didn’t believe her.

  “I admit I’m curious how you would pay for it,” he said, finally.

  Setting her fork down, Michelle looked her uncle in the eye.

  “I know my income may not be the greatest but I am not completely destitute,” she said, careful to keep her tone soft. Her uncle’s attitude rankled a little... but she knew he meant well. “The past two years I have not had to pay rent, or utilities; just food and hygienic essentials. I have managed to save a little money, and I want a simple ceremony. Marriage licenses are not that expensive, and there are some clergymen who’ll perform the ceremony for very reasonable rates. I can rent a little kitchen and cook hors d’oeuvres myself. The hotel I live at has some wine I can purchase at about half cost; I have saved the hotel a lot of money with my financial services and I they’ll let me have their reception room very reasonably. I have already spoken with the manager. I know it’s not the best scenario imaginable but it will do just fine.”

  Oscar watched his niece through her little oration; her chin lifted ever so slightly and her eyes held a very stubborn look. At that moment, he saw his younger brother’s expression on her face. It was as close to tears as he’d been in some time; though he did not show it. He felt extremely proud of her self-reliance, but there was no way he’d let her do this on her own.

  “Your mom and dad would be proud of you, you know that?” he said, suddenly. Michelle was caught off guard by this statement; she was not quite prepared for the emotion that her uncle’s words triggered. Blinking, she tried very hard not to cry. “I know this because I am. Very proud.”

  Michelle could not stop one small tear from sneaking out the corner of her eye. She dashed it away quickly.

  “Thank you, sir,” she said, softly.

  “That’s why you’re going to have a nice wedding,” Oscar continued. “Now, don’t argue with me on it, either; the bride’s family always pays for the wedding and last time I checked we’re still family.” Michelle opened up her mouth to protest, but there was something in his face that said he would not be moved. The gesture was appreciated, however.

  “I didn’t expect that,” she said at last. Oscar smiled.

  “Exactly,” he said, returning to his food. “I’ll have Laurel pick you up at your hotel tomorrow and you two can plan and shop or whatever. I don’t want to know. Just do it that way you like, OK?” Michelle thought her face would crack with smiling so much. She wanted to jump up and hug the man but refrained; he seemed happy just to be eating.

  Excitement welled in her, along with a welcome kind of relief. She had no qualms attempting the wedding herself, but knew it would be better if she had help. The idea of running about Manhattan with the good-natured Laurel planning a wedding sounded like a lot of fun; the lady had good taste.

  Marco packed their leftovers in two, neat little bundles, wrapped in brown paper, tied with red ribbon and stamped with the restaurant’s logo. The congenial owner tried valiantly to get them to order dessert... but they refused, politely.

  “Oh... I can’t eat another bite, sir,” Michelle explained. “It was so good; I ate more than I should have.”

  “Bah! You should eat more, you are so thin, carina,” Marco told her. Oscar laughed.

  “You can’t say that about me,” he joked, patting his slightly bulging belly. “I've been eating here too long.” Marco contented himself with wrapping some fresh canolis and securing them to the leftover packages.

  “Put them in the refrigerator right away,” he instructed, as he walked off.

  “I would weigh a ton if I ate here every day,” Michelle said plaintively. “You must go running or something to work it off.”

  “You won’t catch me running,” Oscar said, with conviction. “Hard on the knees. I have a lap-pool. You know... it’s about the size of a large bathtub, sits in the floor; a motor keeps a water current running so you can swim laps without having a huge pool to heat.”

  “I see,” Michelle said, impressed. “That sounds like a great way to stay in shape.”

  “It beats sit-ups,” her uncle said. He signed his name to the bill and handed it to a passing waitress. Michelle offered to leave a tip but was politely refused.

  They said goodbye to the friendly Marco and walked outside. Michelle wanted to walk home; her hotel wasn’t that far and she was used to the distance by now. Michelle turned to her uncle as he stood on the sidewalk.

  “Thank you,” she said, meaning each word. “I don’t know what else to say.” Before she could talk herself out of it, she put her arms around Oscar and hugged him. He got over the shock of it quickly and dropped a small kiss on the top of Michelle’s head.

  “I’m glad I found you,” he said, sincerely. “I feel bad for having not been there when you needed family most. You did alright, but... I’m just glad you’re not holding it against me.” Michelle did let a few tears out as she drew back a step. Her uncle suddenly appeared a little more human.

  Oscar signaled for a cab, and gently directed Michelle into it, not listening to her protests about walking.

  “Not if I can help it,” he said, trying to look severe. Getting in the cab, Michelle rolled down the window.

  “I really would like you to meet my fiancé, Uncle,” she said, looking up at him. Oscar grinned, a little sheepishly.

  “Well, that probably would be a good idea,” he agreed. “I have Friday free for dinner. What about you both meet me here at Marco’s at… say, seven?” Smiling, Michelle nodded.

  “That sounds wonderful,” she said, gratefully. “I think you will really like him; he’s a good man.” She rolled up the window as the cab drove off. Watching it drive away, Oscar smiled.

  “I hope so,” he said, to himself.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Michelle called William the moment she got back to her hotel room. It rang several times before going to voice mail. She didn’t know the man’s phone was in his briefcase.

  “Hello William,” she said, after the ‘beep’; she smiled at the thought of him listening to the message later. “I just got back from lunch with my uncle. He’s anxious to meet you; he has Friday dinner free and wants to take us to this Italian place we went to today. It so good, really the food’s incredible.” Michelle paused, formulating her words; she did not want to leave a ‘brainless' message on William’s phone. “I hope your day is going well; I miss you so much... as if I haven’t seen you in weeks.” She laughed a little at this. “My uncle told me he’s paying for the wedding; I was really surprised at the offer. Actually, it was more like a statement than a question but I am relieved, I must admit. It will still be very simple, don’t worry and no, you won’t be dragged around to look at stuff. I promise. Oh, gosh I’m rambling again. I love you, I miss you. I’ll be here for the rest of the day. ‘Bye.”

  Hanging up the phone, Michelle it her lip and smiled; she felt like waiting by the phone for his response, but wanted to take care a few details. Dialing the number of the hotel manager, Michelle spent a few moments confirming her request to reserve the reception room; Michelle told Mr. Chan who her uncle was and the poor man nearly dropped the phone in surprise. He informed his accountant/guest that he’d been trying to get Mr. Maclane to hold his business dinners at the hotel with no success.

  “I’ll let you have the reception hall for free...” he said, enthusiastically, “... and we’ll decorate it... and throw in catering service, and valet service for your reception if you can get his firm to come here for all their business gatherings. That would be a great account to have.” Michelle inwardly chuckled at the man’s desperate tone. She knew however it would be a large account for him; she planned to ask her uncle about it, just to please Mr. Chan. He really had treated her politely in spite of her unemployed situation; it was the least she could do. Michelle had no intention of taking the free services he’d offered; her Uncle Oscar would probably insist on paying full price, anyway.
He was just that kind of guy.

  The shower beckoned. Michelle left the bathroom door open so she could hear the phone if it rang. Drying her hair, she thought of the conversation with her uncle at lunch and smiled. Cinderella’s fairy godmother had nothing on Oscar, she decided. The man was calculating and sharp but possessed an admiration of good character and liked to test people. She figured he’d like her fiancé very much; William would certainly be able to respect a man like that. Dressed in her pajamas, Michelle sat down happily with her wedding noted and wrote several more, a sweet smile on her face.

  A few minutes after 6pm Michelle’s phone rang; she picked it up at the second ring.

  “Hello?” she said happily. A familiar chuckle sounded on the other end.

  “Waiting around the phone for me to call, eh?” William asked; he sounded amused. Michelle blushed.

  “A little,” she admitted.

  “Well that’s a giant boost for my ego,” William said, with a bit of a tired sigh.

  “Long day?” Michelle ventured, hoping that wasn’t too obvious; her man definitely sounded spent.

  “Indeed,” came William’s reply. “My firm was taken over by a rival company in my absence.” Michelle gasped, but didn’t interrupt. “The whole firm is being remodeled...” William continued, sounding as if he sat down heavily on a chair. “One floor’s already done. Bloody fast work....”

  “Wow,” Michelle said, a little awed by the news. “I assume people are working around the construction?”

  “Correct,” William replied. “It’s actually a vast improvement; they are really doing a professional job.”

  Michelle desperately wanted to ask if a bunch of people had been fired but did not. William was the type to eventually give out the information, if one was patient.

  “Sounds like they are doing what your former bosses weren’t willing to,” she said, gently.

  “Exactly,” William agreed. “They also fired about half of the staff, trimmed a lot fat and brought in some new blood.”