by Thea Thomas
“You’ll go to dinner with me?”
“Yes, I’ll go to dinner with you.”
“Great! I’ll pick you up about seven?”
“Okay,” Elizabeth said. “Seven.”
“Bye-by,” Tony said.
“Good-by.”
Elizabeth hung up the telephone and stood staring at it for a moment. She walked to the mirror over the fireplace and peered at her reflection.
“I don’t know,” Elizabeth told the woman who looked back at her, “you still look plain to me. Why would Tony want to go out with you? He could go out with any one.” But I don’t care, she thought. I want to go out with this gorgeous man. Even if it’s only once, it sure beats never.
Chapter VII
Elizabeth had no idea where Tony was taking her for dinner but it was Saturday and she decided to dress up as much as her wardrobe would permit.
She went to her room and slid the closet doors all the way one direction, then studied what she saw... pastels, small prints, cottons, double knits, mid-calf length.
“Granny dresses!” She slid the closet doors the other direction to expose more of the same. “Granny dresses. All of them!”
So your moment comes, she thought, and you’re unprepared.
Then she remembered her mother had left some clothes, they were so old they might be new again.
Elizabeth hurried down the hall to her rug room and flung open the closet door. There hung a raft of silk and crepe and velvet outfits, muted solid colors, wild bright colors, black and red, fitted bodices, flared skirts and straight skirts, daring necklines, knee-length and floor length, little jackets and shawls, all wrapped up in clear plastic from the dry cleaners, just as her mother had left them, years ago.
They were fabulous. Elizabeth had forgotten what fantastic taste her mother had. Or maybe, she thought, she hadn’t paid much attention to the clothes, when looking at them had only reminded her of her absent mother. But now she refused to dwell on that. “Thank you, Mother! It took a life-time, but you’ve finally done something for me. Now, if I can find something that more or less fits. On the list of things you didn’t give me include ‘voluptuous body’.”
Elizabeth eliminated the black dresses and the red dresses and the floor-length dresses and the dresses with so little fabric she wondered how Gloria managed to stay in them.
She was still left with five very likable options. Of these her eye went to a pale turquoise crepe dress of a 1940’s cut. Fitted bodice, lowered waist, cap sleeves, slightly padded shoulders, straight skirt with a peplum trimmed in a wide, antique white lace, and a little matching lace bolero. No plunging necklines, no slits up the skirt.
“I couldn’t have found something more ‘me’ if I’d shopped for a week.” Elizabeth carried the dress to her room. She held it up to herself and looked in the full-length mirror. It suited her very well, from this perspective.
She took off her house dress and slid the crepe over her head. She was afraid to look in the mirror. She looked down at the dress. It seemed to fit. Finally she raised her eyes to the mirror, and she thought it was nothing short of a miracle how she looked. Thin. Chic. Sophisticated.
“Wow, Elizabeth,” she whispered. “Maybe there’s more of your mother in you than you realize.”
She took the dress off and put it back on its hanger. “Two interesting men in two short days, Lizzie, you wild thing.” She giggled. She decided to take the entire afternoon getting ready, starting with a long, hot bubble bath.
Everything was wonderful! She was going on a real date with an incredibly good-looking man, never mind his mood swings–no one was perfect. She was soon to move into a house that fulfilled dreams she hadn’t even had yet, and she owned a new car that granted her freedom. What more could she want?
“Well,” she said, putting the plug in the claw foot tub and turning on the tap full blast, pouring in bubble bath, “I could want a child. In fact I do want a child. However, dear girl, you may be able to buy a house and a car and get a date in two days. But babies still take longer.”
She let herself melt as if she was maple sap in the bath, and the warm water was a spring thaw. She indulged in a romantic fantasy with Tony as the star. But in her fantasy, he was sweet and intelligent like Peter... and he had a smile very much like Peter’s as well.
Half-an-hour later Elizabeth got out of the tub wrapping a towel around herself. She reached for her toothbrush and saw her compact in the sink. It was open, face down. She picked it up, bits of shattered mirror fell clinking into the sink.
Elizabeth stood, mystified, peering down at the broken mirror. “I know this wasn’t in the sink when we walked through. Peter and Tony were right with me.”
She thought back to yesterday when Peter asked her if the house was haunted. “Well, I suppose if there was ever a man Grandfather would disapprove of me going out with, it would be Tony.” The Mademoiselle in the trash and the missing lipstick returned to her thoughts.
Frowning, she cleaned up the shards of mirror. “I’m not stopping now. I have to live my life, and, haunted house or not, I intend to.”
Tony came at seven-thirty instead of seven, and for half-an-hour Elizabeth had worked herself into a tizzy, pacing up and down Grandfather’s study.
When Tony finally arrived, he said nothing about being late. Elizabeth debated if she should or shouldn’t mention it, when he pulled a little bouquet of pink tea roses and baby’s breath out from behind his back.
“These remind me of you,” he said, “delicate and shy.”
“Thank you,” Elizabeth said, breathing in the flowers, forgetting that Tony had been late. “Let me put them in water.” She moved toward the kitchen. “Thank you,” she said again. So! men really do bring you flowers. “Do you want to sit down?”
“No, thanks. We’ve got an eight o’clock reservation for Orange Hill. You ever been there?”
“Not since I was about twelve,” Elizabeth called from the kitchen. She came back with the flowers in a vase and set them on the piano. “My mother and one of her boyfriends took me there a couple of times.”
Tony nodded.
“It has a beautiful view,” they both said together, then laughed.
At Orange Hill they were seated by the panoramic window and Orange County spread out below them as if they were on a throne and the lights below were a diamond-studded foot stool.
“You look beautiful,” Tony said to her. “I find a woman who can look a lot of different ways very enticing.”
“Oh? Am I that sort of woman?”
“I’ve seen you look like two completely different women in only one day, so I would say yes.”
Elizabeth, determined to stay within her fantasy as long as possible, made no argument to dissuade him from this notion of her.
The dinner and the conversation were perfect. Elizabeth realized she’d better hang onto her heart. She was in danger of falling in love with this, in all probability inaccessible, man.
“So... what are you going do with yourself now?” Tony asked.
“I don’t know. I’d like to get a job, I’d like to be meaningfully engaged, but I have no training, no skills. I actually learned quite a bit about nursing, taking care of my grandfather fro the last five years when he’s ben so ill. But I would not care to go into nursing. I’m just....”
“You’re not cut out for it. You’re sensitive. You need to be helping people fulfill their dreams.”
Why, yes, Tony, you’re right. That’s very well expressed.” He had definitely surprised her with his insight.
Why not go into real estate?” he suggested.
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Elizabeth answered. “My biggest problem, I guess, is that I’m very shy.”
“It’s the best way to get over shyness,” Tony pointed out. “You tell yourself it’s your job and the first thing you know, you’re not so shy.”
“Sounds like a testimonial,” Elizabeth observed.
“It is... I was shy. You could come and wor
k in my office and study for your real estate license at the same time. I’m sure you don’t have to work, what with your grandfather’s estate, but everybody needs to be occupied. Right?”
“That’s right,” Elizabeth agreed.
And so a mere week later Elizabeth was enrolled in real estate school. She had a professional face and hair make-over, she bought herself a new wardrobe, including two pair of designer jeans.
And when she went to the grocery store and looked up at the mirrors, she didn’t see a frumpy 1950’s house wife. She saw a pretty, self-confident, trim, assured, contemporary-looking young woman.
Chapter VIII
Elizabeth tore the last day of May off her desk calendar – unbelievably, another month had disappeared. Since she’d moved to The Lakes and started working at Ocean State Real Estate, the weeks flew by like days.
She wasn’t sure which she enjoyed more, getting up in the morning, excited about going to work, or the pleasure she felt in the evening driving to her new home, anticipating the cool lake, and, lately, with the days growing longer, the beautiful dusky sunsets reflecting cinnabar and pink off the surface of the cobalt blue water.
A client was coming in in a few minutes and Tony was not back yet. She checked the mirror in her desk drawer. Her shining pixie-cut brown hair framed a look-twice gamine face, big brown eyes with pinkish and fawn eye shadow, and a pouty pink mouth. She could hardly remember what she used to look like. She added that to her list of blessings!
She was studying for her real estate license, and, although not yet licensed, she discovered she learned quickly. Tony frequently left the lion’s share of the work to her, but that didn’t bother her. As he said, it was good training.
“Edna,” Elizabeth called to the secretary, “I wonder if there’s something we can do about the lighting in here?”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“It’s so dark!”
“I’m good with that,” Edna answered. “The place doesn’t have to be dusted so often.”
Elizabeth shrugged. She didn’t care for Edna’s attitude, but she was in no position to argue. At that moment, Tony’s clients came through the front door.
“We have an appointment with Mr. Antonella,” the man said to Edna.
“Mr. Antonella is unexpectedly detained. He asked me to refer you to Miss Morris.” Edna waved back at Elizabeth.
“Hmm,” he said hesitantly. “Okay, thanks.” He and his wife came up to Elizabeth’s desk.
She stood and smiled, gesturing to them to be seated. “Mr. Antonella told me you’d be coming by. Let’s talk about the home you’re hoping to find.”
Elizabeth spent the afternoon showing the couple eight properties, none of which seemed quite this or quite that for them.
On the drive home, Elizabeth pieced together some random facts and came up with the realization that Tony was pawning off his difficult clients on her, people who were not buyers. It gave her a headache, smiling, smiling, smiling all day for these lookie-loos. But she reminded herself that that was part of the job, too.
When she got home, she found herself facing that odd empty feeling she’d been experiencing lately. After making a cup of tea, she went up to her new rug room. Since she’d moved, she hadn’t touched anything.
She smiled remembering the week-end she and Peter had traded homes. They’d rented a truck and had first taken her personal things and put them in his garage. Then they filled up the truck with his things and piled them up in the front parlor. They’d even ended up trading most of their furniture on a friendly long term basis as they agreed that each home was already suitably furnished.
On Elizabeth’s second load, the only thing left was the contents of her rug room. She’d finished the six-by-nine Samarkand the night before. She hadn’t wanted to move the loom, rug and all.
The night before the move she stood proudly surveying her handiwork. Then she felt a pang as she realized the carpet would not live on these dark hardwood floors, among the antique surroundings, which had been her intention since she’d conceived it.
So the next day she presented the carpet to Peter. Stunned, he tried to refuse it, but she wouldn’t let him. The carpet belonged with the house, she insisted. She’d told Peter she wanted him to enjoy it.
“Enjoy it? I’ll treasure it,” he’d said.
Elizabeth brought herself back to the present moment. After all, that was then, and this was now. What she needed now, she decided, was to get involved in a new carpet-making project. She went back down to her kitchen, got out some graph paper and her set of “Fifty-Eight Wonderful Colors Felt Tip Drawing Pens” and began sketching a design.
Two hours later, she sat back to appraise her creation. And there revealed was the clue to what was really bothering her. The graph paper had been transformed into a darling pastel forest, with a Hansel and Gretel cottage in the center and puffy pink and white clouds in a pale blue sky around the border. A rug for a baby room.
Because what Elizabeth wanted more than anything, as happy as she was with her new life, was a baby. But how could that come to be? She and Tony had been dating, but her “Victorian morals” as he put it, prevented her from letting the relationship progress beyond affectionate-yet-platonic. She was at least smart enough, she told herself, to realize that Tony was not the marrying sort.
But that didn’t mean she didn’t wish he was. Or that something might happen in her life with the promise of maternal fulfillment. She decided that she would begin the baby carpet, believing that it would inevitably, inexorably, draw her closer to her heart’s desire.
* *
The following Sunday Elizabeth took Martha to brunch. After they’d filled their plates to embarrassing heights, they sat by a window over-looking the bay.
“You look gorgeous!” Martha said as the waitress poured champagne into their plastic champagne glasses.
“Thanks, Martha. I know when you say it, it’s sincere.”
“Of course I’m sincere! Why would you even say such a thing?”
Why indeed? She asked herself. Tony was always saying she was gorgeous... right before he asked her to do “a little favor.” Curious that I haven’t realized that until just this moment. “In the real estate business you get used to a song-and-dance routine,” she finally answered.
Martha nodded. She understood. “You know with me what you see is what you get, and you can let your hair down. That is, what little bit you have left of it!”
Elizabeth reached up and tugged on one of the little spikes of hair framing her face. “Not good?” she asked.
“Very good! Just, you know, very very short. I haven’t even been out with a man lately with hair that short. But on you, sweetie, it looks great.”
“Yeah. Me and my ‘waif-like’ face,” Elizabeth nodded.
“And I still insist there’s no insult in being called ‘waif-like.’ “
“Hmm.” Elizabeth remained unconvinced.
“So – what’s new with you?” Martha went on. “It seems we never get to talk any more!”
“True, but if you heard all the times I’ve talked to you in my head, you’d ask me to kindly please hang up for a while.”
“So it’s you buzzing in my brain!” Martha exclaimed. “Have I given you any good advice lately?”
Elizabeth was silent but fidgety.
“I thought you were ‘happy, happy, happy’,” Martha continued. “Isn’t that what you said?”
Elizabeth nodded. “I am happy. And I’m grateful too, to be so content. Even though Grandfather is gone,and I miss him terribly, I still have my new home, which I love, and my new job which is interesting. It helps take me out of myself. I’m finally growing up, Martha. I didn’t know life could feel so full or be so interesting. But still there’s some perverse creature in me who, with all I’ve got, wants more.”
“Such as?” Martha asked.
“Such as, specifically... a baby.” Elizabeth shocked herself, it was the first time she’d said it
out loud.
Martha nodded.
“What do you mean by nodding?” Elizabeth asked. “Aren’t you surprised?”
“Not in the least tiny little bit,” Martha said, not at all. You’re a young healthy woman, you’re simply responding to your biology. Why should that surprise me? More to the point, why should it surprise you? If you hadn’t been so preoccupied with your grandfather all these years, it would have hit you long ago.”
“Maybe,” Elizabeth said. “It’s hard to hypothesize about that now. But what should I do?”
“How about this?” Martha leaned forward as if she was about to impart a secret magic formula. Elizabeth leaned toward her. “Date – fall in love – get married – have a baby.”
Elizabeth leaned back with a wry grin, nodding. “It sounds like a good plan, Martha, but I’m hung up on the first point.”
“How so? Look at you! You’re gorgeous, sweet, fun, polite, financially independent. With the possible exception of needing to be more sure of yourself, I can’t imagine why you don’t have the guys lined up.”
Oh, sure,” Elizabeth agreed, “I anticipate that in the near future. No, Martha, I’m not the gregarious young woman you portray. First of all, I’m not made of stuff that dates more than one person at a time. What am I saying? One man is one-hundred percent more than I’ve dated in my life!””
“Silly girl, “Martha said.
“Maybe so, but that’s me. And, anyway, I’m dating Tony now.”
“Yes? And?”
“And, well, and I’m certain he’s not the marrying type.”
Martha tsk-ed. “Look, dear girl, why put yourself at cross purposes? Don’t mark time with someone who’s goals are opposed to yours. I shouldn’t even have to tell you that.”
Elizabeth felt a tiny wall of defensiveness welling up. “I suppose you’ve never dated anyone who had different goals from yours?”
“Goodness, Elizabeth, in my case, dating has been the goal. I’ve never wanted children or a husband. Of course I’ve had to let a few good ones go when they started out fun but developed an urge to make me the centerpiece for home and hearth. But, by and large, I believe I’ve stood pretty much by my own standards. That needn’t make you angry, Lizzie.”