Draw Me A Picture

by Meredith Greene

  As much as William wanted to demand some answers from the man right there, he could see that Mr. Maclane had a point. A news crew had set up nearby and was filming the smoke coming from the window, as well as the crowd standing around watching. Turning towards the street, William made his way through the onlookers and let Oscar hail a cab; he put Michelle in the back and got in next to her. Oscar took the front; he handed the cab driver money and mumbled an address. The cab wove its way into the slightly moving traffic.

  Michelle sat by William with a stunned look on her face; she didn’t know what to say. William studied her face for a moment, and then turned his ire to Oscar.

  “It’s clear that Michelle had no idea,” he said, coolly “When exactly did you know... Mr. Maclane?”

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake... call me Oscar,” the man in front said; he gave an exasperated sigh. “I knew since the day I found Michelle; she told me the name of this guy she was seeing and where you worked. I was already taking over Brownstone & Peters... that much was coincidence. I make no apologies.” He turned and looked over his shoulder at William. “I’m her last near family, Montgomery. I had to see if you were good enough for her. You passed with flying colors, so don’t get all bent out of shape.”

  “That was you with the watermelon?” Michelle asked, suddenly. “And the lime shirt? And the Old English? That was you insulting the man I love?”

  Oscar looked at Michelle and grinned.

  “It wasn’t an insult,” he said. “I have nothing against the Brits.” He glanced at William. “Besides… he took it well.” With that Oscar turned forward again. Michelle looked over at William; her man was glaring at the back of Oscar’s head, the muscle in his cheek twitching a little. The idea of her stern uncle testing William’s character by gleefully disemboweling a watermelon in an office suddenly struck Michele as funny. Laughter boiled up before she could stop it. Michelle covered her mouth with both hands; she giggled and giggled, trying to hold the sound inside. William felt Michelle shaking next to him and looked down at her; her face was red, her eyes squeezed shut. She was laughing her head off, and trying valiantly to hide it. Smiling, William started to chuckle in spite of himself; he couldn’t help it. Both he and Michelle laughed out loud, especially when Oscar looked back and raised an eyebrow at them.

  “Oscar...” William finally said, still laughing. “You are one strange bloke. Cutting a melon with a saw, on your desk... was that really necessary?”Oscar smiled, though he kept his face forward.

  “I always wanted to do that,” he admitted, shrugging.

  “I would have loved... to hear him sing... Copa Cabana...” Michelle said, between giggles. Both the young people leaned on each other laughing. Oscar flipped up his collar and scowled at the dashboard.

  Blocks away, inside the new branch of Felix-Maclane, two irate CEOs and their myriad of assistants strode out of the lobby elevator, intent on heading towards the door. They’d been put off a very important meeting with hardly any reason, other than Mr. Maclane had important business to attend to. A group of people were huddled around a plasma wall television on the far side of the lobby; the mere presence of the crowd made one of the company owners slow down and look. He called to the other and walked over to see what was going on.

  When people group around a TV in New York, it usually means something bad has happened. Quietly, they stood with the others and watched. On the screen was a breaking news story about a minor fire in the Waldorf-Astoria hotel; the fire was being put out, the reporter said but the crowd outside still congregated.

  “He’s on again!” one of the receptionists said, pointing with a smile. “There... see I told you... it’s Mr. Maclane!” The CEOs looked where the woman pointed. The screen indeed showed the tall, stern lawyer, looking concerned over a young woman in another man’s arms. She looked worn out and her bare feet dangled above the ground. “That must be his niece. Oh, I hope she’s alright!” The other women murmured their agreement. One CEO looked at the screen, then at the staff. He smiled a little and beckoned to his assistant.

  “Re-schedule the meeting,” he said. Nothing more needed to be said.

  THE CAB stopped in front of Oscar’s brownstone in a middle-class area of Brooklyn Heights. It was a tall, thin home, four stories high and sandwiched in with a whole row of homes; it was painted a cheerful bright red with white-framed windows. Michelle as happy to see that in spite of his company’s worth, her uncle lived in a normal neighborhood, with plain furnishings and simple decorations. It felt homey but maybe a little lonely.

  Oscar had a spare room for Michelle, and said he’d get her clothes from the hotel the next day. Though he agreed it would be better for Michelle to stay with family, William made a point of carrying her into the house himself; he set his fiancée gently on the couch.

  “Practicing, eh?” Oscar said, offering Michelle and William sodas. Accepting one, William grinned at the man.

  “You had me fooled,” he said, opening the drink. “I would never have guessed that you are her uncle.” Oscar grinned back; he sat down on a nearby easy chair.

  “I had to know,” he said, sobering. “I had to know if you were some rich, playboy jerk who was going to play with my only niece’s heart. No offense intended.”

  “None taken...” William said, lifting the soda can slightly in salutation.

  Michelle looked from her uncle to William; there was an odd calm between them, a sort of accord borne of understanding and, perhaps, even a bit of mutual respect.

  “I am glad you two finally met,” she said, smiling. William choked a little on his soda; he smiled at Michelle, wiping his mouth on a napkin.

  “Minx,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “He pulled one over on you, too.” Michelle smiled at her uncle.

  “I understand why,” she said, quietly. “I appreciate the thought and trouble.” Oscar grinned down at the floor.

  “Not much trouble,” he said. “William did the firm proud. Five clients in a single trip.”

  “Seven,” William corrected, with a satisfied grin. Oscar raised one eyebrow slightly at this. “Two more in the VIP lounge, sometime around 7pm,” William continued, evenly. “A Manhattan architect and another construction firm. Bob has the information, I believe.” Oscar laughed, rubbing his chin.

  “OK, I’m impressed,” he said. He looked at Michelle. “With both of you.” Michelle felt a little emotional at this admission.

  “Thank you,” she said. Her voice spoke of many facets of gratitude; one appeared to be towards Oscar, for giving them his blessing.

  In a slightly better mood, William looked down at his fiancée.

  “Since your uncle doesn’t mind me becoming part of the family, I’m going to insist you come shopping with me, right now.” Michelle, in the middle of taking a drink of her soda, looked up at her man with confusion. Swallowing, she opened her mouth to object.

  “The man’s right,” Oscar spoke up. “You’ll need some things to wear until the hotel mess gets cleaned up. Even if I get your stuff here tomorrow, it will have to be cleaned of the smoke.” He favored Michelle with a humorous look, one that said ‘just try to deny it’.

  “I suppose he is right, then,” Michelle said, noting William’s assured grin.

  “If he’s right then why argue?” Oscar inquired. He turned to William. “I suppose you’ll need the rest of the day off.” The young man grinned; he pushed his hand through his hair.

  “What about the new client merger?” he asked.

  “Get on out of here,” Oscar said, scowling. “Go get your woman some clothes. There’s a shopping mall down on Kings Plaza; a local cab will know where it is.” William laughed and got up, scooping up Michelle in his arms.

  “You’re supposed to be on my side,” she politely told her uncle. Oscar smiled.

  “I am,” he said. “If you find yourself a good man, then listen to him.” He chuckled at Michelle’s grimace.

  “Alright,” she said, with a sigh. “But I go
under protest.”

  Savoring a small amount of very sweet victory, William carried his future wife down to a waiting taxi, bare feet and all.

  “Kings Plaza,” he told the driver. When they were out of sight of Oscar’s house, Michelle gave William a very fond kiss on his face.

  “You didn’t have to sic my uncle on me, you know,” she said, pretending to look hurt.

  “True,” William said. “Perhaps, dragging you in a store kicking and screaming over my shoulder would be much more fun.” Michelle looked mildly surprised at his suggestion.

  “I do not--as a rule--kick and scream,” she pointed out. William smiled and kissed her.

  “I know,” he said. “You’re too sweet to act like a spoiled little child.” Michelle smiled up at him.

  “You do know why I protest so much, right?” she asked, looking into his eyes. “It's not to insult you... I just didn’t want to even appear to be one of those gold-digging-type women.” William leaned over a little, kissing the top of her head. The smell of smoke had all but left her hair.

  “I know, love,” he said, quietly. “I want to you to trust me that I’ll never think of you that way.” Michelle smiled as she leaned on his shoulder.

  “Then, I trust you enough to buy clothes for me,” she said; her voice spoke of a gentle kind of trust, one that was slowly blossoming into full on belief. William had no doubt that soon she would trust him fully, even to the point of coming completely out of her shell around him, though part of him would always like her sweet, shy nature. That, he would cherish in his lovely bride.

  “I’m honored,” he said, chuckling. “Minx.”

  Michelle let out a soft laugh; she was beginning to like that nickname. Or... perhaps it was simply the affectionate way William uttered it. She cuddled up against her fiancé on the taxi's seat, still wrapped up in his overcoat.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Despite the strangeness of seeing a businessman carrying a barefoot young woman in his arms through a shopping mall, everyone that saw the couple smiled. They made an adorable pair and were obviously happy to be there, together. Walking along the wide, polished corridor William spied a store whose name was not unknown to him; it caused a certain kind of grin to crease his face.

  “Look darling,” he said, walking towards the shop. “Don’t you need some under-things?” Michelle snapped her head towards the direction William was looking. A few yards away stood the storefront of a well-known lingerie store.

  “No!” she squeaked, hiding her face in William’s suit coat. “There is absolutely NO way...” Michelle heard a deep chuckle and ventured a look back; William didn’t even bother to hide his amusement; his fiancée’s scarlet face made him laugh again.

  “I’m just joshing you, love,” he said, changing direction. “As your fiancé I’m entitled to tease you, you know. Part of the job description.” Still grinning he headed into a higher-end clothing store. The couple received some odd looks inside, but William ignored them. He glanced at various salespeople until he spied a saleswoman in her thirties, re-folding a shirt on a display; the woman was dressed tastefully, with a decent notion of color and style. William walked up to her.

  “Hello,” he greeted, still holding Michelle. “I know this may look odd but my fiancée has temporarily lost her clothes in a small hotel fire. She needs something to get her by for a few days and still look beautiful while running around preparing for our wedding next week.” It was quite a mouthful but William managed it all in one breath.

  The saleswoman blinked at him. Michelle gave her a shy wave from her comfortable position. The lady’s eyes took in the large overcoat and Michelle’s bare feet; she smiled.

  “Poor lamb. The Waldorf?” she asked, putting down the shirt. William nodded. “They said on the news it was out and that no one was hurt.”

  “I can’t get in to get my clothes,” Michelle explained. “They’d all smell like smoke anyway.” The woman smiled again.

  “I see. My name is Beryl,” she said. “Follow me, please.” She led William over to the woman’s department and found an available changing booth. “Just sit in here, and I’ll bring you some things to try on. What are your sizes?” In a small voice Michelle told her; she still felt a little reserved around William with some things. The whole lingerie shop suggestion had put in her mind that she’d soon be wearing some of said items around him and/or even less.

  Leaning against the wall, William inwardly wondered at Michelle’s pink face; it occurred to him that as simple a thing as shopping was, his fiancée was making an effort to trust him with what she considered a more intimate setting. The blushes on her face, however, were adorable.

  “She looked uncommonly well in pale pink,” William said, dropping Michelle a wink from the dressing room door. Beryl the saleswoman closed the door, giving William a pointed look.

  “Would you care to see our men’s department, sir?” she asked, looking at his attire with a quirked eyebrow. “Suits are so, passé.”

  William cleared his throat. The suit he wore was probably more expensive than the entire men’s clothing line there. He heard soft laughter coming from behind the dressing room door.

  “I’ll make a deal with you, William,” came Michelle’s quiet voice. William arched his eyebrow at the dressing room door.

  “Oh?” he said, interested.

  “Yes,” Michelle cleared her throat. “If you get yourself common pants and a t-shirt, and actually wear them, I’ll... go into the... lingerie store. By myself though...”

  Suddenly, the room felt a lot warmer to William. The very idea had him a trifle uncomfortable; he’d only been joking... but this was progress. He smiled what he knew to be a goofy grin.

  “You have yourself a bargain my dear,” he said, earnestly. Though he couldn’t see her, William could almost feel Michelle’s blush through the door.

  “I’ll take care of her here, sir,” Beryl said, rolling her eyes.

  “What is it with men and lingerie?” Michelle muttered. Hearing this, William grinned.

  “I’d answer, love but I’d probably get slapped with a harassment suit,” he said, walking away. Michelle snorted, softly. William had no difficulty finding clothes; having been some years on his own, he was quite used to shopping for himself. The T-shirts he tried on were a bit tighter than he liked, but he figured Michelle would appreciate that aspect. He settled on a black cotton tee and khaki pants. Paying for the clothes, he sipped into a dressing room to put them on, so that Michelle could see him in them. He strode back over to the women's section, his suit carefully tucked away in the shopping bag. Ignoring a few batting eyes, William looked around for Beryl; he saw her talking with Michelle, though his fiancée was not facing him. She wore what looked like a long sleeved, dark blue sweater-dress, the hem of which dropped down to about two inches above the knee. With this she wore opaque black stockings that hugged her legs, ending in a pair of black, low-heeled ankle boots. As he walked up, William appreciatively took in her form; he especially liked the stockings and had to file away some thoughts about inspecting them personally... for flaws. As he drew closed, he heard his fiancée debating with Beryl why buying a cashmere sweater was silly when merino wool would do just as well, and for so much cheaper. Michelle saw the sales-woman’s eyes widen at something behind her; she turned, hoping it was William and not armed robbers.

  “Oh, my stars...” she thought. She hadn’t expected William to actually go through with the bet then and there, but here he was, walking towards her, looking at her with a very warm gaze. Actually, he appeared to be looking at her legs. When she’d suggested that her man buy a t-shirt, she didn’t know he’s pick a ridiculously tight one. The dark color looked uncommonly well on her fiancé; he pulled off the common clothes as if they were top of the line fashion. “Does he ever look bad?” Michelle wondered, reminding herself not to stare.

  “Do I look so strange, love?” William asked, standing in front of his fiancée.

  “Not at al
l,” Michelle said, looking at the floor. “Now you just need a sweater...”

  William laughed.

  “Jealous already?” he teased, putting an arm around her waist; he leaned down by her ear. “You look amazing. I like you in a short skirt…” Michelle’s pink face turned to red.

  “You would,” she whispered, trying to avoid smelling William’s scent; she failed.

  “Mm...” her man said. “I especially like those black tights. Very nice...” Michelle bit her lip and took a deep breath.

  “Sheesh,” she said, pushing gently away from him. “How do you do that?” William did not let go of her.

  “Do what?” he said, with a knowing grin. His lady appeared all flustered and warm; he knew exactly 'what'. Michelle blushed and refused to answer. A small cough came from the saleswoman. William gave Beryl a smile. “Nicely done,” he praised, looking back down at Michelle. “She looks amazing.”

  Beryl grinned.

  “Yes, she does,” she returned. “She’s all set for a couple days, though she needs some sweaters and a coat of her own.” She handed William his black overcoat. Taking it, William slung it over his arm; out of the corner of her eye, Michelle watched his arm move.

  “Wow...” she thought, looking back at the floor.

  “Come on,” William said, pulling Michelle gently by her hand to the nearby display of sweaters. “These look nice... pick out four of them.” Michelle looked up into his eyes with surprise.

  “One would be plenty,” she said, trying to look resolute. William grinned boyishly at her and she knew she’d already lost.

  “Three,” William countered.

  “Two,” Michelle said, lifting her chin a little. William leaned down a little, looking into Michelle’s eyes with an oddly unsettling look.

  “Five,” William said, his eyes glittering with humor. Michelle smiled.