But then she wrapped me in the silver dress. At least, I’d thought it was silver, but when it was placed on me, I saw that it flashed with subtle colors. I was no longer an academy winner, but a mermaid with a slinky full-length skirt in a dress beyond all dresses. Shapely, modest, yet, enticing. It was everything that went with a fairy tale. Hans Christian Anderson would have been enchanted.
I wore no jewelry. Not even earrings. The dress was the accessory that carried enough sparkle, ripple, and drama to only be diminished by any additions.
I thanked Simone ravingly until she laughed and commanded me to stop. But then I was back to looking in the mirror. I almost wept at the beauty of the dress and what Simone had done to my face and hair. I looked the part of a gallery owner’s date. I was ready to fulfill my duty.
I’d told Timothy that I’d meet him at the gallery. I didn’t want him to waste his energy on collecting me or worrying about arriving in time to do any last minute primping in the gallery, but the doorbell rang, and Simone skipped over to the button granting entry.
“I’m not expecting anyone. That’s dangerous,” I chided her, but she only laughed and buzzed the person in.
When the doorbell to my apartment rang, I hung back, nervous that it would be another delivery of chocolates, fruit, or flowers. But no delivery person stood at the door. It was Timothy. In spite of my telling him I’d meet him there, he’d come to pick me up.
There was no point in arguing. I thanked Simone again and turned to prepare to leave.
“Stop!” Timothy cried out.
I’d been reaching for my purse, the one with my apartment key in it, a handkerchief, and various small items like a pad of paper and pen. I spun about to look at him.
“You . . . you are a treasure. A work of art. I should be displaying you in my gallery. You look beautiful. No, not merely beautiful. You are magnificent.”
What does one say to that? Probably my mouth dropped in stunned amazement. I bet my face changed into a beet head, and words all fled into the mists of Avalon. Timothy couldn’t be talking about me, plain Jane.
He strode forward, surrounded my jaw with his hands, and kissed me lightly on the lips. “I won’t be able to concentrate on anything tonight, ma Cherie. I will be too afraid that an ogre might steal you away.”