A Proper Young Lady

by Lianne Simon

  “But you were born in Virginia.”

  “My parents came back to the States just after the ceasefire in 1994. Mum was already six months pregnant.”

  “And people are still out to get your family?”

  Are they? “I have no idea. No one ever talks about specific threats.”

  “But you have a bodyguard.”

  “Cooper? He does a lot more than security.”

  A few minutes later, my father strolls into the room. “Would you two young ladies do me the honor of joining us for dinner?” He snaps a wink at me. “I believe the coast is clear now.”

  We follow him to the dining area. When he pulls a chair away from the table, I slip a hand behind Melanie’s back and encourage her forward. Part of being a lady is being treated like one by gentlemen. Manners and bodyguards—an odd mix, that.

  A servant lifts the cover from our appetizer and passes the dish around. Tiny fish, dusted and deep fried—I’ve only had whitebait on one previous occasion. Key Lime tartare proves an exquisite dipping sauce for them.

  A hand squeezes mine under the table—Melanie sniffs at a fish covered in sauce and pops it into her mouth. Seconds later, a smile overpowers her skepticism.

  The servant removes the covers from the side dishes—roasted asparagus and mashed potatoes—and starts them around the table. When he lifts the dome lid from a large serving tray, my saliva runs. He slices the pastry, exposing rare beef tenderloin, pâté, mushroom duxelles, and prosciutto. Mum talked the chef into Beef Wellington. Brilliant.

  Mum and Daddy remain oddly quiet through the main course, even after most everyone has finished. As soon as Melanie sets her fork down, my father slides his chair back. “If you two young ladies are interested, Cooper has offered to give you a tour of the hotel.”

  In other words, the parents want to chat without the children present. I ease my chair back and stand. “Save us some dessert.”

  Melanie pats her mouth with her napkin and rises from her seat. “Can we see where Al Capone stayed?”

  Cooper offers a polite but firm head shake. “Sorry, but the Everglades Suite is occupied.”

  Melanie waves it away with a yawn. “I should get to bed early, anyhow.”

  Concern furrows Mum’s brow. “I’d forgotten you were pregnant, sweetheart. Perhaps in the morning, then.” She uncovers the dessert tray and fills a dinner plate with truffles. “Take these with you.”

  Melanie gawks at the sweets. “Chocolate.”

  Mum picks up another from the tray, sniffs at it like one might a fine wine, and relishes a small bite. “Yes. Dark chocolate, not overly sweet, and made with clotted cream—all good for your pregnancy.”

  Cooper escorts us—and our plate of truffles—down the hallway to our room. “Please let me know if you need anything.” He shoots a glance at Melanie and waits in the doorway.

  Yes, I understand the drill. Don’t leave the room on my own. Don’t answer the door. My father sets the rules, and I have no doubt of his love for me. Cooper acts as his right hand at times to ensure my safety.

  “Thank you. We’re in for the night.” I push the door closed and slide the bolt into place.

  Melanie saunters out of the bathroom, already in her nightgown. After she hangs her dress in the closet, she finishes unpacking.

  I give her a quick hug. “You were marvelous. I most appreciated you reminding Mum that you’re pregnant.” I open my luggage and set out the clothes I’ll need for the morning.

  Melanie’s emerald eyes grow wide. Without makeup, her grin and freckled cheeks lend her face a child-like innocence. “I feel like some poor orphan girl sent to stay with rich relatives.” She waltzes over to the desk and snatches a truffle. “If this is a dream, don’t wake me till the chocolate’s all gone.”

  After Melanie finishes off her third truffle, she pulls back the covers on her bed. She sits on the mattress, leans into a mountain of pillows, and hugs the duvet to her chest. The cheerfulness she expressed all evening melts away. “Is Mom dying? That’s the only reason I can figure for her sending me away.”

  I pull off my heels and sit on the edge of her bed. “She wants you to get an education. The money you would have spent on a preparatory school can go toward college now.”

  “Yeah. Maybe.” Not a whisper of belief inhabits her eyes as they sink. Her lower lip quivers.

  “I’m sorry, love. I hope she’s all right.” I pull her head against my shoulder. What will I do if your mum really does die? Melanie’s soft whimpers become diaphragm spasms, but after a few minutes, her irregular breathing slows. Tremors fade. Muscles relax.

  A crick in my back forces me to shift position. With Melanie asleep, I slip away from her and change into pajamas. The mother of my child sleeps on, both arms wrapped around a pillow. An occasional muffled cry breaches her lips—as in a dream.

  What have I gotten you into? I pull the duvet up to her shoulders, kiss her on the forehead, and retreat to my own bed again. There I burrow into the covers and fade into dreams.

  Melanie

  The last few minutes of sleep are always the best, and with the bed caressing me, I have no desire to be up and about. Voices whisper somewhere in the room, but only for a moment. I snuggle further into my pillows, stretch out my arms, and embrace the covers.

  Sometime later, fingers brush my cheek. My eyes open to Dani’s bright smile. “Breakfast is served, Miss Fairbairn.” She holds out a white chenille robe, almost as comfy looking as my pillow.

  A stretch, a yawn, and I push myself upright. So much beauty and elegance fills the room. I commit it all to memory. Something to treasure later. After a wistful glance at my pillows, I stretch again, stand, and let Dani help me with my robe.

  Breakfast turns out to be poached salmon, scrambled eggs, roasted tomatoes, and biscuits that Dani calls scones. “Wait until you taste Jake’s,” she says. “They’re brilliant.”

  My nose wrinkles at the capers spread over my salmon. I pick them off and take a bite of the fish. Yummy? Well, yeah, but who eats this kinda stuff for breakfast? I eye one of the smaller roasted tomatoes before picking up a scone and holding it up to my nose. Oh, yeah. Cinnamon and sugar.

  Salmon, eggs, scones, orange juice—I’d stuff my face, but nausea forces me to stop. I haven’t puked in nearly a week, and that’s fine with me. I shove my plate away and gaze at the bed again.

  Dani grabs my sleeve. “We’re late already. Get dressed, and I’ll fix your makeup.”

  Chiffon and lace, soft and feminine—I slip the new dress over my head and pull the belt tight. So this is your world, huh? Am I gonna live the rest of my life in a skirt and lipstick? Guess that goes with fancy hotels and corporate jets. What about blue jeans and motorcycles?

  The girl makes my face all pretty again. I brush out my hair and clip it back on both sides. One last gawk at the stranger in the mirror, and I follow Dani out the door. Yeah. Sweet. But don’t think I’m gonna waste my entire life bein’ Miss Prissy.

  Danièle

  Cooper leads us through the lobby and stands guard while a valet brings the car. For a moment, I suspect he’s going to search the BMW for explosives, but then he opens the door and motions me inside. Melanie climbs into the rear seat after me, and we drive off.

  Emerald eyes study me from across the car. Embers of doubt flicker there. I slide over to her and snake an arm around her shoulder. “If you’d rather not stay with my parents...”

  With one hand she straightens her flouncy skirt. “Your folks are okay. I’m just not sure I wanna spend the rest of my life in a dress.”

  I brush her ginger curls back behind one ear, press my face close, and whisper, “Neither am I, but Mum would hand me over to a shrink if she found out.”

  Melanie bites her lip until the muffled snickering fades. “No. They got to you somehow. Even on a motorcycle, you’re all elegance. You sweat French perfume.”

  Have I changed so much in five years? I was a tomboy, more the mischief-maker than ever Melanie
was. With psychologists ahead and surgeons behind, I fled to the only available refuge. Under Mum’s wing I took on manners and grace as protective coloration against the predators. “I suppose you’re right.”

  Melanie closes her eyes, leans her head against my shoulder, and remains silent for the rest of the drive down to Kendall-Tamiami Airport.

  My parents and Mrs. Fairbairn have already boarded by the time we arrive. Cooper sees to our bags before shepherding us through security and out to the plane.

  As soon as we settle into our seats, one of the crew shuts the cabin door, and the aircraft taxis out to the runway. Melanie presses hard against me and rests her chin on my shoulder. “Is there a barf bag?”

  Perfect. “As soon as we take off, I’ll find you something. Can you hold out that long?”

  “Yeah.”

  Ten minutes later, the tower clears us for departure. Another twenty pass before we level off. By then Melanie’s breathing has slowed. “You all right?”

  She mumbles something and snuggles closer, so I put an arm around her and dream of what could have been.

  Before too long, the turbine whine sings of our descent into DeKalb-Peachtree Airport north of Atlanta. We touch down with a soft chirp of tires on concrete and taxi to one of the general aviation support hangars.

  Humid air and bright sunshine flood the cabin when one of the crew opens the door. Cooper ducks outside first—no doubt to rid the area of threats. Daddy offers a hand to Mum then, and they deplane.

  Mrs. Fairbairn pauses in the doorway. Her eyes scan Melanie and me, as though she’s committing the scene to memory. A wisp of concern disturbs her perfect contentment. Her chest rises and falls in a deep breath, and she steps outside.

  Not long afterward, the pilots finish their checklist and step out of the cockpit.

  They can’t leave with us here. I brush a fingertip down Melanie’s brow to the tip of her nose. “Wake up, sleepyhead.” Time to wish your mother farewell.

  Chapter 13

  Melanie

  Oh, man. I hate flying. My stomach grumbles discontent. One last glance over my shoulder, and I’m out of the cabin and down the steps to solid ground.

  Learjet—gotta admit the coolness factor there. Nice comfy seats. Lots of legroom. Way bigger than a car. So why should I feel trapped inside the stupid thing?

  Dani bumps into me when I stop. “You all right?”

  “Yeah.” I bend over, put my hands on my knees, and wait to see whether or not I puke. A trickle of sweat runs down my forehead. No air conditioning outside, but the open space soothes my nerves. Nausea gives way to hunger.

  By the time I straighten up again, I have an audience. My mother speaks first. “You okay, honey?”

  “Yeah, Mom. I’m over it now.” Soon as I eat, I’ll probably barf.

  I follow Mr. and Mrs. Welles past where Cooper is standing and into the hangar. A side door leads to a lounge area and—

  “Hey!” I run to hug my sister Beatrice and her two boys.

  She flashes me a teasing grin. “So you got yourself knocked up, huh?”

  “Yeah. You jealous?”

  “Absolutely. Dani’s baby?”

  “Yeah. Didn’t I always say I’d have one for her?”

  Mom cuts in and hugs my sister. “How’s Fred?”

  “Fine. Overworked and loving it.”

  Dani eases up beside me, so I nudge her toward Beatrice. “You remember Dani?”

  My sister doesn’t quite gape at the girl. “Yes. Of course.” The two stare at each other for a moment before hugging. Over Dani’s shoulder, Beatrice gives me one of her stupid grins, like I’ve announced my engagement or something.

  I’m having the girl’s baby, not sleeping with her. I stick out my tongue.

  After the hug fest, Mom and Mrs. Welles wander off to the corner and chat. I play with the boys till Dani brings us chocolate donuts. Not just the icing kind either, but all the way through. Truly yummy. I eat two—real careful like—in front of the bathroom mirror. Not a crumb gets on my dress.

  “I am so happy for you.” My sister stands behind, watching me in the mirror.

  I wipe a bit of icing from my lips. “Is Mom okay?”

  She spins me around and hugs me again. “She sold the house for you, sis. To pay for school. You’re welcome to come stay with us. You know you are, but getting your GED would be harder with the boys around. Especially with you pregnant.”

  “Yeah. Guess you’re right.”

  “Let’s plan on Christmas, then. All right?”

  “Yeah. Okay.”

  Dani peeks into the restroom. “We’re getting ready to leave.”

  I rush out the door to find Mom. Words fail me, so I hug her again. She pulls an envelope out of her handbag and gives it to me. “This is your nest egg, honey. I always wanted you to go to college, but it’s all right to have your own dreams. Call me once in a while. All right?”

  I hug her again and drip my sadness down her back. “I love you, Mom.”

  “I love you too, honey.” She brushes a tear from my cheek and kisses my forehead. “Better run along.”

  Dani holds the door for me as I rush to catch up. Cooper follows us out to the jet, but waits at the top of the stairs. I flop down on the seat I shared with Dani on the last flight.

  No way to see my mother out the window. We shoulda talked more, Mom.

  I scoot over to make room for Dani, and buckle in.

  As soon as Cooper takes his seat, one of the crew closes the cabin door. In a few minutes, we’re flying over North Georgia on our way to Virginia. I close my eyes to the world, snuggle against Dani, and try to sleep.

  We land in Richmond around four and taxi to a stop in front of a humongous metal building. A few minutes later, one of the crew opens the aircraft door, so I grab my handbag and rush outside.

  Dani follows me down the steps. She grabs my hand, and we head for a set of glass doors. “The company flies out of this airport. This is one of their buildings. The passenger lounge is through here.”

  She leads me down a short hallway and stands in front of another set of glass doors. After a moment, something clicks, and they swing open.

  A guy with curly white hair greets Dani with a hug. “Welcome home, Miss Danièle.”

  “Thank you, Jake. This is Melanie Fairbairn. She’ll be staying with us.”

  “Welcome to Richmond, young lady.”

  Gentle kindness permeates the old man’s face and voice—like Grandpa Fairbairn.

  I miss you, Gramps. Without thinking, I give Jake a quick hug.

  Dani leads me to the restroom. She attacks her face like she’s a contestant for Miss America. I find a place to get sick. Nausea was kind enough to wait till we landed, but my stomach demands payment with interest as soon as I open the stall door.

  “You all right?”

  “Dandy.” Don’t worry, Miss Danièle. I won’t get any on this pretty dress. After I wash lunch off my face, I let the girl repair my makeup. “Is there a vending machine around this place?”

  “Come and see.” The girl’s eyes burst with mischief. She grabs my hand and drags me down the hallway. The aroma of something sweet and freshly baked sends my empty stomach into conniptions. Dani pauses with a hand on the doorknob. “Jake’s are truly brilliant.”

  “At the airport?” Beyond the door lies a kitchen. Scones swarm over a cooling rack on the counter—every one of them glazed on top.

  Jake glances up from his work. “Why Miss Melanie, would you care for a scone and some milk?”

  “Oh, yeah.” Like I’d refuse? Steamed milk and orange-cranberry scone—my stomach promises me no trouble at all so long as I eat something this good. Does a proper young lady lick her fingertips and scarf every last crumb? Well, yeah. This one does.

  Cooper pokes his head into the room as I finish. “We’re ready to leave.”

  Jake shoos us with both hands. “You go ahead. I’ll be along in a moment.”

  Dani and I follow Cooper
out the front door. Five people—six if Jake’s coming—and we’re taking a motor home? No. Cooper and Mr. Welles climb into a stretch Cadillac Escalade. That leaves four of us.

  Not sure what I expected, but the interior resembles a tiny apartment, with a breakfast bar on one side and living room on the other. I nestle into one end of an overstuffed leather couch and crash. After a word with her mother, Dani joins me.

  Jake disappears up front. A moment later, the engine rumbles to life, and we pull out on the highway. Weird not being able to see outside, but not as bad as the airplane.

  The gentle diesel drone and slow rocking of the bus fade till it’s like we’re sitting in some upscale hotel room on a lazy Saturday afternoon.

  I walk up front and collapse into the seat across from Jake. The old man gives me a sympathetic nod. “If you’re tired, missy, there’s a bedroom at the rear. I’m sure Momma Bear won’t mind y’all sleeping in her bed.”

  I flash the old man a grin. “Thanks.”

  “We’ll be home in about two hours.”

  Back in the living room area, Mrs. Welles is lecturing Dani about something.

  I wait till she acknowledges me. “Jake said I could use the bedroom?”

  “Why of course, sweetheart. Make yourself at home.”

  Sure enough—past the lounge and a bathroom, behind a door, I find a double bed. Dark, quiet, comfy. Why not? Two hours is time enough to dream of the boy who promised me his heart.

  Danièle

  Mum slips the cozy off her teapot and pours herself a cup. “Darjeeling, love?”

  “Yes. Please.” I add milk and a dash of raw sugar to mine, then help myself to a scone before resuming my seat.

  My mother settles into the recliner across from me. “I’d like a word with you while your guest is sleeping.”

  “Certainly.” I shut off my phone and lay it aside. Email will have to wait.

  “Miss Fairbairn’s rather more attractive than I recall. Will she stay on as your child’s nanny?”

  “I hope so. I’d like to finish college.”