His Convenient New York Bride

by Andrea Bolter

  Bai portioned the whole fish they’d cooked as an emblem of abundance.

  As they finished stuffing themselves, the meal concluded with the tangerines served on New Year’s to symbolize good fortune. When the evening ended, Aaron escorted Bai downstairs to help her into a taxi before he walked the short distance to his apartment.

  After Mimi and Jin straightened up the kitchen, they gazed at each other. Throughout the noise and activity of the day, they hadn’t acknowledged what had happened the night before.

  “Gung hay fat choy,” Jin said to his wife.

  “Gung hay fat choy,” Mimi repeated.

  From outside they could hear the revelry of the fireworks ceremony, another traditional event to ward off evil spirits.

  Mimi drew Jin into an embrace that set them both aflame as they made their way again to the matrimonial bed.

  * * *

  “I’ve got to go to a fund-raiser for Dressworks. Do you want to come?” Jin asked Mimi as they walked home from the grocery store. From their haul he fished out a paper bag that held a Danish pastry.

  The Zhangs had been affiliated with the charity for many years. Dressworks supplied women in need with business and formal wear to help them reenter the workforce after circumstances had left them unemployed. The organization held their primary fund-raiser of the year during Fashion Week because with so many people in the industry in town, it was an optimal time to receive the most donations.

  “You go to that every year, don’t you?”

  “They raise a lot of money at the dinner. We’ve also been able to furnish some clothes.”

  “I can look around the showroom and back in your storage closets.”

  “Do you want to go to the dinner with me? It’s kind of stodgy, black-tie affair uptown.”

  Was Jin kidding, Mimi thought to herself? Would she like to go to a black-tie fund-raiser with him? A charitable New York evening with her handsome husband. Uh, yes. Funny that he’d even wonder if she’d go. She supposed he was being polite in letting her know that she wasn’t obligated to attend every event he went to just because she was his wife.

  “Do you have something to wear?”

  Mimi had been to some formal evenings with Gunnar and had a couple of gowns that he’d made for her. She wrinkled her nose at the mere thought of those. She’d rather not be reminded of anything to do with him anymore.

  “Hey, would Dressworks want a couple of old gowns I have?” They were her personal huìqì, which she’d be glad to get rid of.

  “I’m sure they would, but do you have one to wear yourself?” Jin took a bite of his Danish from its paper bag. He sensed her hesitation. “Oh, they’re Gunnar’s?”

  “I don’t mean to sound wasteful but I don’t want to wear them ever again.”

  “I can understand. If you did and then somebody asked who you were wearing, we wouldn’t want to have to say Gunnar Nilsson.”

  “Right.”

  He brought the pastry to Mimi’s mouth and she took a bite of it. Just like married couples did on the street, sharing a snack as they rushed about their days.

  After all the years of picturing herself doing those little day-to-day things with Jin, it was actually happening. Her eyes took a moment to shift from left to right, to preserve in her mind the simple freeze frame of being fed a pastry from a paper bag on the block where she lived by the man who mattered to her most.

  “We don’t have time to make you a gown,” he said, reaching over to brush flaky crumbs from her mouth. His fingertips on her lips instantly made her the thirstiest person in New York so she nicked a sip of coffee from the paper cup she was holding, and handed it to Jin who drank some and handed it back.

  “LilyZ never did evening wear, did you?”

  “Not that I can recall.”

  They resumed their walk, side by side.

  “Should we call another label we like for a dress?”

  “We’d have to think of who we’d want to give the free advertising. Because whatever you wear, you will be asked.”

  They continued in silence, both thinking.

  “What about something vintage?” she asked.

  “Now you’re talking. You look great in those older styles. Do you know where we should go to get something?”

  “I sure do,” she answered, remembering some shops in Chelsea that were known for vintage formal. “All those years of charity store shopping.”

  “I used to love that, you know, those dresses you used to wear.”

  Before she started making and wearing her own clothes, Mimi would slip into any secondhand shop she encountered. Sometimes she found nothing, as was the way with vintage shopping, but on other outings she was victorious, leaving the stores with treasures folded into recycled paper bags with handles.

  “You were really always into a retro look. Borrowing from the past informs all of your work.”

  Mimi could hardly believe her ears. While Jin had always respected her ambitions in fashion and been complimentary about her work, no one had ever so seriously analyzed her style and put it into words. It made her feel like she had a mark to make, hungry and ambitious and proud.

  “What’s that smile about?”

  “We’ll go to the vintage shop at the end of the day. I have to get some work done first. I have a very demanding boss.”

  * * *

  After they closed up the studio for the night, Mimi and Jin headed to Once Again in Chelsea. Mimi had called the owner, who she’d met before, and asked her to put aside some dresses she thought Mimi might like.

  “Hi, Mimi.” Bette looked to the shop door as soon as they came in. With her black-framed glasses and a floral dress that would be described as farm chic, Bette was a retro hipster who was the perfect emissary for her store.

  “Do you know Jin Zhang?” Mimi asked by way of introduction. Jin held out his hand as they approached the display case that held jewelry and purses, some looking to be a hundred years old.

  “No, we’ve never met. I’ve always been a fan of LilyZ.” Bette grasped Jin’s hand for a shake. “Look what I just bought at an estate sale.”

  She reached from a rack to show them a midnight-blue blazer with black lapels.

  “1984. Fall.” Jin identified the jacket immediately. “Shun said his customers loved that blue.”

  The garment was a fine example of how Shun took a trend such as the exaggerated shoulders of the nineteen eighties but incorporated it subtly. While that was not a current fashion, a woman could still wear the jacket and look stylish and timeless.

  “I can’t keep LilyZ in the shop,” Bette added. “As soon as I put something out, it sells.”

  “As I told you on the phone we need something black-tie worthy,” Mimi said.

  “Come in the back, let me show you what I pulled for you. Nineteen twenties to nineteen fifties.”

  Bette escorted them to a private area where three full-length mirrors were set up to present a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view. Off to the side was a rack with some dresses.

  They all heard the chimes of the front door opening.

  “Have at it,” Bette offered. “Let me know if you need any help.”

  “Thank you,” Mimi called out as Bette left to attend to the shop floor.

  “What do we have?” Jin asked as he leaned against the wall and let Mimi inspect the rack.

  Bette had put the dresses in a sort of chronological order. Mimi picked up a dress from the nineteen twenties made of silvery beaded chiffon atop a gray under slip. “It’s amazing how heavy this dress is,” she said as she balanced its weight between both hands.

  “Try it on,” Jin encouraged. With the utmost care, he helped her into the delicate, well-preserved dress. After surveying he decreed, “Hello, Miss Flapper. You need one of those long cigarette holders.”

  Although she s
tood barefoot and without a hairstyle that would befit the dress, she shook her head no right away. The dress hung straight down to her calves with no shape whatsoever, as was the style then. “Look how boxy and almost boyish this is.”

  Jin nodded in agreement. “Does not do a curvy girl any favors.”

  “This beadwork is unbelievable, though.” She lifted a section up from the bottom to show Jin the detail.

  “Next.”

  “Okay, Bette left me one from the nineteen thirties.”

  Mimi didn’t need any help sliding the cream-colored satin over her head. With the bias cut and body-grazing design, it was a prime example of the era’s style.

  “My, my, my.” Jin mimed fanning himself as he made an ultraslow study of her from top to bottom. “That’s too sexy on you. It looks like a nightgown. Your husband simply will not permit it.”

  Mimi laughed outwardly. Inside, she was screaming. Jin was her husband at last. Who she’d made ravenous love with. Who had just referred to her as sexy.

  Don’t get too secure. This is make-believe, Mimi cautioned herself.

  Although she didn’t want to heed her own words.

  Can I play for just a little while longer? she begged the universe. Heaven knew she’d been waiting long enough.

  She checked herself out in the mirrors. With its halter top and low-cut back, the gown did look ready for the boudoir.

  “Thank you, Bette—” Mimi gestured toward the sales floor “—for taking us on a trip through the decades.”

  “What do you have for the nineteen forties?” Jin crossed his arms across his chest, clearly enjoying the moment, as well. They were entitled to relax a little, with all the pressure they’d been under.

  “Zip me in.” Mimi had to carefully navigate into the next one, a mint-green gown with long sleeves. It had an elaborate sequinned appliqué of a butterfly at the waist. “I’m so unused to long sleeves on evening wear. That was the look then.”

  Jin scrutinized with a bit of a frown. “I’m not sure that suits you, either.”

  “It’s too matronly on me.” She rose up onto her tiptoes. “Though imagine it with heels.”

  “The shoulders are broad and the neckline is high with your...” He hesitated.

  “Big boobs, Jin.” Ever the gentleman, he had been looking for loftier phrasing.

  They both giggled.

  “Moving on.”

  “Now, the era made for my shape. The nineteen fifties.”

  Mimi hardly needed to take the next selection off the rack to know that it was the one for her. A strapless dress with a full skirt in black, it had white lace detailing at the sweetheart neckline and along the scalloped hem. As she unzipped it off the hanger, Jin took hold of a section because he wanted to examine the construction.

  “Wow,” he said softly, appreciating the workmanship. “Boning.”

  Indeed, on the inside of the bodice were rows of channels that allowed thin plastic strips to be sewn into the garment. “That’s what you’d call structure and foundation.”

  “Everything stays where it should in a dress like this. Even your...big boobs,” he joked with a nudge to her side. “Put it on.”

  “All the women will be in long gowns,” Mimi said as Jin helped her into the dress. “It’ll be radical if I’m in ballerina length.”

  “Hot young designer wearing vintage.”

  Mimi stretched her arms out to her sides and twirled around in the dress, still barefoot. “I love it.”

  Jin smiled.

  After a minute of watching, he moved toward her and encircled her waist with one arm. He bolstered her against him, asking, “May I have this dance?”

  Not waiting for an answer, he took one of her hands in his and began waltzing her around the dressing area, to the music of her giggles. Round and round he spun her, until she was sure she was actually at a formal ball dancing with her dashing prince.

  When she stole a glance of the two of them in the mirrors, her spirits soared higher than any time she could ever recall.

  With the perfect dress purchased and being sent to the studio, Mimi and Jin left the shop. Walking down the street, she slowed in front of the window display at a home furnishings store. There was an armchair she really liked, one she thought would look good in their living room.

  Theirs. Her and Jin’s living room.

  Maybe she’d personalize the apartment a little bit, after all.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “HOLY COW.” JIN was literally stunned when Mimi modeled her complete outfit for the Dressworks fund-raiser.

  “Thanks for thinking to send the hair and makeup people. They surely know what they’re doing.”

  The strapless black dress with the white lace edging she’d picked out from Once Again was perfect, one of a kind and a real statement of fashion. Adding in the red lipstick and whatever that seductive updo of her hair was called, she looked like a movie star ready for a Hollywood premiere.

  “Can you do my bow tie?” Jin asked as he crossed the apartment, needing to know which of her perfumes that exposed neck would bear the scent of. His nose was rewarded with what smelled like honey as it grazed the silky skin of her throat. His lips traveled upward for a kiss on the cheek.

  “Give it to me.” Mimi took the tie from him and worked it around his neck under the stiff collar of his tuxedo shirt.

  “What is that hairdo called?” He had to know more about the elegant upsweep.

  “A French twist.”

  “Oui. C’est magnifique.”

  She tied the bow tie and tweaked it for perfection. “Am I going to know people at this event tonight?”

  “Probably not. It’s more mass market garment manufacturers than small labels like ours. We just happened to get involved with this charity when someone asked my mom for a donation of clothes.”

  “Thanks for inviting me. I don’t go to many black-tie events.”

  “Thanks for agreeing to come. I bought you something.” He dashed into the kitchen and returned with a clear plastic box, which he handed her.

  “A corsage!” she exclaimed as she opened the lid to find the three mini lilies wrapped in silk ribbon along with a pearl-tipped pin.

  “I know, old school. It just seemed to go with your dress. May I?” He removed it from the box.

  “That’s so thoughtful of you. How adorable.”

  “No, it’s you who is adorable. The flowers are just decoration.”

  She pointed to where on the dress she wanted him to pin the corsage.

  Afterward she asked, “Should we leave?”

  Jin removed his tuxedo jacket from the hanger that was hooked over a chair, grabbed his wallet and phone, and they headed out the door.

  * * *

  “Thank you. Jin bought them for me,” Mimi acknowledged a gala guest’s compliment on her corsage. “LilyZ was named for our founder Shun Zhang’s favorite flower plus the first initial of his last name. When you think about it, isn’t it rather amazing how Shun came to the States all alone and made an enduring name for himself in ready-to-wear?”

  As Jin sipped his glass of champagne, he couldn’t believe what was coming out of Mimi’s mouth. She knew LilyZ’s history almost as well as he did and had apparently appointed herself their goodwill ambassador with all the friendly introductions she was making.

  “No, I never had the honor of meeting Shun.”

  The moneyed crowd was older and sedate. Mimi was the liveliest person there to be sure.

  “We’re thinking of eventually getting into accessories. Purses and sunglasses and items like that are not only good for our business, but a way for women who might not be able to afford our clothes to have a luxury piece they can cherish.”

  The Dressworks fund-raiser was held in an old uptown ballroom, an event space that had probably seen a thousand weddings
and other social functions. Huge crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, overseeing the formally set tables with their white floral centerpieces, black tablecloths and too many forks at each place setting to understand. On one side of the ballroom, racks held the donations of many clothes including the surplus LilyZ items Mimi was able to find in their storage.

  Jin watched a couple on the dance floor. They’d obviously learned to partner dance, the white-haired gentleman confidently leading his silver-haired lady with precise steps. Had they taken formal dancing lessons, or did they learn to waltz and fox-trot at high school dances or in ballrooms like this one? They looked like they’d been dancing with each other for a long time as the woman’s tiny shoes anticipated her man’s next move.

  Partnering up. It was what humans did. Even some animals. Mating for life.

  How jaded Jin had become. During long nights spent alone in the apartment after he’d asked Helene to leave, he’d developed a bitter and warped view. He’d come to think that most people were solitary even if they were in a relationship. That each person trudged their own path, had only him or herself to count on. That Valentine’s Day and corsages and anniversaries were just advertising, and behind closed doors most people were as painfully alone as he was.

  For the first time, he questioned those beliefs.

  A sea change was occurring. Precisely because of their long history, Mimi was able to reach into him in a way that no one else could. She was showing him an alternative he didn’t know if he was ready for. He was straddling somewhere between terrified and elated.

  “May I have this dance?” he asked, hoping to get out of his own head. With an exaggerated flourish that made Mimi giggle, he sloped his arm around her waist and led them off. His hands took notice of the intricate structure of her vintage dress, throwing him back in time, like they were really at a ball.

  The moment mixed in his mind with dancing with her at Once Again. Watching her at the shop, arms outstretched, spinning barefoot and uninhibited, had poured into him a dangerous sort of euphoria. One a person could become addicted to. That could make a believer out of the most jaded soul.