The Arrival of Richard III

by Kari August

  Ned nodded. “I’ll only marry for love.”

  “Then tell her you love her!”

  Ned blushed again. “I’m afraid. It might ruin everything between us, and I’m enjoying her company too much right now.”

  Dickie shook his head. “You’re impossible.”

  Ned stood up. “What if she doesn’t love me, huh? If I tell her I love her, it’ll just be out there as this awkward thing between us, and it won’t be the same.”

  Dickie shrugged. “Perhaps she loves you. Why wouldn’t she?”

  Ned grimaced, then looked out the window. “We don’t talk about it, but she might think a part of me is crazy. Not enough to stop us from being friends with benefits, but perhaps too much for me to be her husband.”

  “Has she seen you banging your head on the table too often?”

  Ned looked over at Dickie. “What? Oh, that. No, I haven’t banged my head for a while.”

  Dickie smiled. “See. You have nothing to worry about.”

  Ned frowned. “No? What about the fact that I didn’t deny you were Richard III when we first met?”

  Dickie waved his hand dismissively. “I talked to her about that briefly when I first hired her. She’s fine with keeping it a secret for now, just as you prefer. She doesn’t talk to me about it either. It’s not an issue.”

  But Ned merely shook his head and didn’t respond.

  “Now sit back down and eat your eggs. They’re getting cold. And that’s a royal command.”

  Ned sighed.

  The day finally arrived. Holidays in August was on TBN. Dickie was to appear first on Dougie’s Kitchen Korner, have a half-hour break, then finish up on Liiizette’s Style House. Dickie looked around the guest room, waiting to start. Nearly the whole gang was here. Charlena and Connie were there to model, of course, but Ned and Lindsey had decided to come for support, though Dickie had assured them that he had everything under control. He was an old hand at this television business, after all.

  Charlena was on the phone, talking to her daddy. Connie was walking around with a book on her head, while talking to Cody on the phone. Cody and Caroline planned on watching the shows together on the cabin television back in Estes Park.

  Dickie glanced over at Ned, on the other side of the room, who was raptly listening to Lindsey, reading aloud some article about shortbread cookies.

  Lindsey looked over at Ned. “See, I told you they were Scottish and not English.” She peered back down at Ned’s computer. “It says here that they were developed a few centuries before, but were refined under Mary, Queen of Scots, in the sixteenth century and were considered a luxury item.”

  Ned merely nodded and reached over to finger one of Lindsey’s long locks.

  Charlena spoke up. “Connie, Daddy wants to talk to you.”

  Connie held up her finger. “I’ll be right there. Cody, you behave yourself. Don’t invite all your friends over for some impromptu party.” She reached for Charlena’s phone and smiled. “Hoyt? Is that you?” Pause. “I enjoyed myself also that night.” Pause, then a girlish giggle out of Connie, then: “Right, right.” Another pause. “I tell you, if Cody hadn’t bragged to all his friends that I was modeling for TBN, I would have backed out of this thing. I don’t know what I’m doing!” Pause, another chuckle, then: “All right. I’ll try. Bye now.” She handed the phone back to Charlena.

  Snorkels appeared in the doorway, gave a quick look around, focused on Dickie, and said, “You’re on in five, Mr. York.”

  Dickie stood. Showtime!

  Dougie was in a good mood, as usual. He cheerfully welcomed Dickie back on the show, notified the audience that they could purchase the King’s English shortbread cookies as individual flavors, or as a set of four versions, and that now the cookies were available on auto-order. The crowd clapped enthusiastically.

  The first caller phoned in. Dickie asked, “How can I help you, love?”

  The woman sighed. “I just love your cookies.”

  Dougie spoke up, “Which version have you ordered?”

  “I bought the fudge-coated cookies last time, but this time I’m ordering the set of four.”

  Dougie smiled and nodded. “Excellent. And what do you think about auto-order?”

  “It’s just fabulous. I can give away cookies to my friends. But, Dougie? I want to say something to Richard.”

  Dickie smiled. “Go right ahead, love. I’m listening.”

  “You look really handsome in your leather king’s outfit.”

  Dickie’s grin widened. “Thank you. But the credit should go to my designer. Did you know I’ll be selling a clothing line after this show?”

  “No! Really?”

  “Yes. We’re offering garments from petite to five-X.”

  “Oh, Lord! I’m going to have to call Dottie, Ruthie, Margie, and Ellie.”

  Dickie queried, “Who are they?”

  “It’s this club we formed years ago. We’re the Doogemits. That’s ‘good times’ spelled backward. Don’t tell anyone, but my husband calls us the Goddammits.” She giggled.

  Dickie chuckled. “I won’t tell a soul, dovey.”

  “Okay, bye, lovey.” She giggled again.

  TBN immediately cut away to a promotion of what was on the show tomorrow. Dougie was not happy. He asked Dickie to step behind a screen away from the studio audience.

  Dougie frowned at Dickie. He held up his finger. “I should have instructed you last time. Rule number one, Richard: Stick to the show. No tangents about your other products. We’re here to sell cookies.”

  Dickie opened his mouth to protest, but Dougie spoke over him. “Rule number two: Avoid asking the customer too many personal questions. We’re here to sell cookies. Not talk about the Goodemits.”

  Dickie interrupted. “The Doogemits. Remember?’ Good times’ spelled backward.”

  Dougie spoke over him again. “Rule number three: Encourage auto-order and giving products to friends. Don’t let comments such as those just drop. Repeat them with enthusiasm.”

  Dickie droned the phrase: “We’re here to sell cookies.”

  Dougie smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “Now you’re getting it, Richard. Let’s get back out there and sell some cookies!”

  And sell they did. In fact, they were nearly sold out after another five minutes. Only the plain version remained. Dickie had been annoyed at Dougie for scolding him behind the screen. He hadn’t been certain whether he still wanted to give Dougie his special surprise. But jovial Dougie had won Dickie over. He was a fan of the man again.

  So Dickie spoke up. “Dougie, I’ve made something exceptional for you out of my plain cookies.”

  Dougie rubbed his hands together gleefully. “I wonder what it could be!”

  Dickie reached under the counter where he had hidden the tray. He placed the concoctions in front of Dougie and smiled. “I took my plain cookies, crumbled them up, pressed them in a custard tray, then filled each cup with some macaroni and cheese made per your special recipe.”

  Dougie raised his hands. “Have mercy!” He took one and slowly swallowed a bite. He rolled his eyes, held up his finger, and then swiveled his hips. The audience went wild. The plain version sold out thirty seconds later.

  Liiizette was as friendly, elegant, and charming in person as she appeared on television. She looked stunning in the special gown Lindsey had designed for her. She opened her show to enthusiastic applause.

  “Audience, I’m so pleased to present York Designs to you for the first time on TBN!” She turned to Richard. “You have a true sense of style. The clothing line is just splendid.” She raised her voice to say “splen-did” in her quintessential singsong fashion.

  She turned to a rack of dresses. “I just know our customers are going to love these. Richard, why don’t you explain what makes them so special.”

  Dickie smiled. He was ready for this question. Lindsey had coached him on what to say. “It’s the lines that flatter all women’s dress sizes. The fabric ju
st flows down their bodies. The colors highlight the richness of the material. The designs hide any perceived imperfections in their figures that women might want to hide. Oh, and the dress feels soft to the touch.” There. He had done it—remembered everything he was supposed to say. No, wait. He had forgotten something. “By taking a cue from medieval fashion and lengthening the hemline, while extending the sleeves at the cuff, the dress imitates, but also improves medieval fashion to bring it into the modern era.” There. Now he had done it.

  Liiizette smiled. “So true, Richard. Why don’t we look at the dresses on our models?”

  Charlena appeared from the wings and walked gracefully down the center of the stage, turned, then swiveled back again toward the audience, smiled widely, then promenaded to the rear of the stage. The audience clapped eagerly.

  Liiizette fawned. “Oh, just marvelous, Richard. Absolutely stunning. Don’t you agree, audience?” They applauded more loudly. She turned back toward the rack. “Richard, let’s go over the colors available in this dress. Now, audience, I want you to know that these colors are consistent throughout the clothing line, making it easy to mix and match items. Later you will see a tunic that I’m just in love with. You could put it over any of these dresses medieval style and be ready to go out the door.”

  She continued. “Now, our model Charlena is wearing the very trendy cranberry red.” The camera zoomed in on Charlena again, who smiled winningly and turned slightly to the side. Liiizette then pointed back to the first dress on the rack. “And this is the pink guava; the next is boysenberry, followed by luscious plum purple—so in style for this season. Now, the next color we’re offering, our model Connie is wearing.”

  The camera zoomed back over to the stage, where Connie was now standing next to Charlena. Dickie watched as Charlena gave Connie a quick reassuring squeeze of the hand. Connie took a few tentative steps forward. “Doesn’t she look gorgeous in evening black? Splen-did!” The audience clapped again loudly and Connie waltzed more confidently down the center aisle, turned, and sauntered back slowly to stand next to Charlena. Connie then raised her head and nodded regally once.

  Liiizette turned to Dickie. “Don’t you just love how this dress flatters all figures?”

  Richard nodded. He was catching on that Liiizette could carry the show by herself. He just needed to mutter an occasional, “So true.”

  “Richard, we have our first caller. Dottie from Cleveland, Ohio.”

  Richard smiled. “How can I help you, love?”

  An authoritative voice answered. “I’m one of the Doogemits you heard about on Dougie’s show.”

  Dickie was about to make a comment about the club, but remembered Dougie’s advice. “Do you like the dress, Dottie?”

  “I love it. I’m going to buy one in cranberry red. Red’s my favorite color. It’s considered a power color, you know. But I just wanted to tell you, Richard, that we Doogemits have had a vote. We’ve decided to start a fan club for you. Ruthie was opposed at first, but the rest of us convinced her to go along with it.”

  Dickie couldn’t help himself. He had to ask: “Why was Ruthie opposed to the idea?”

  “Because Margie and Ruthie are fighting right now over nonsense, and Margie first suggested the idea, so of course Ruthie couldn’t go along with it. Then Ellie got in on the act and threatened to form the fan club by herself, calling herself president. But I informed Ellie that I had been voted president of our club and she couldn’t take over.”

  Dickie’s eyes widened. He hoped Liiizette wasn’t mad at him now. But Liiizette just smiled and said, “I’m buying one of the cranberry-red dresses for myself. That color can be worn any season; don’t you agree? You just feel pretty in that color.”

  Dottie responded, “You’re so beautiful, Liiizette, you’d look good in mud. I’ve got to go. I’ll be in touch with you, Richard, about the fan club soon. I’ll contact TBN for your address.”

  Dickie smiled. “Sounds great, Dottie.”

  Liiizette then introduced their next item: a pair of cruise-wear pants with a matching blouse. Charlena and Connie modeled the outfits, and Liiizette commented on the stretch of the pants. She then said, “Now, before we present our next fabulous garment, I want to inform the audience that we are running low on size three-X in the plum-purple dress, and have sold out on all other colors and sizes.”

  Dickie grinned. Liiizette was a selling mastermind. He briefly glanced offstage, where Ned and Lindsey were standing, smiling widely.

  Liiizette turned to Richard. “I think this next York Design is my favorite. This robe can be worn for so many different occasions. It’s an evening gown for a summer party; it’s a cover-up robe for your bathing suit; it’s lounge wear at night when you just want to snuggle up in something loose and comfortable; it’s casual wear for grocery shopping or when you have to pick up your kids. Why, it’s everything and anything you want it to be.”

  Dickie was astounded. It was? He couldn’t have said it better, literally.

  The camera focused on Charlena and Connie. Liiizette exclaimed, “Oh, marvelous, Charlena. I love how you’ve added some of TBN’s specially priced jewelry to accessorize. Connie, that belt is splen-did! Draping it medieval fashion–style makes your waist look so tiny!”

  Charlena and Connie beamed.

  Liiizette smiled. “Customers, the robe has just sold out in all colors and sizes, but we still have the fantastic cruise-wear pants and blouse in most sizes.”

  Dickie wondered what was wrong with the pants and blouse; they looked fine to him. It did reveal a lot of a woman’s figure, but . . . Ah, that was the problem.

  But Liiizette was already on to the next item when suddenly disaster struck. Dickie actually saw it happen. She was holding up the tunic and saying, “I love this tunic. It can go over any item in the York Design collection and make an ensemble. It just flows and drapes to perfection. But, girls, let me tell you one of the best qualities of this tunic. It doesn’t wrinkle! Watch this.” She crunched the tunic into a ball in front of her face and then released it. “See. Back to its original . . .” She started coughing.

  Dickie looked over in horror. A piece of lint from the tunic had floated into the air—Dickie had seen it—and landed in Liiizette’s mouth. Now it was tickling her throat.

  She continued coughing. Tears were coming to Liiizette’s eyes, she was coughing so hard. Dickie tried patting her back, but it was clear that wouldn’t help. She held up her hand and exited the stage, where Charlie, her assistant, was running around looking for a bottle of water.

  Dickie knew he had to take over. “While Liiizette grabs a drink, let’s talk more about the tunic. Uh . . . it hangs nicely.” Dickie smiled into the camera. What more was there to say? Then inspiration hit. “Why don’t we let my designer explain?” He looked to the right of the stage and expansively motioned with his arm. “Won’t you welcome Lindsey?” The audience politely clapped while Lindsey shook her head at Dickie in dread.

  But Ned gave her a tap from behind and Lindsey was suddenly onstage. She smiled to the audience, and the network broke away to another promotion.

  Snorkels’s voice sounded over a loudspeaker. “This is a code pink, code pink. Makeup, hair, immediately onstage!”

  An army seemed to descend at once around Lindsey. She was shoved down onto a stool, told to raise her chin and close her eyes. Dickie watched as her face was painted, puffed, patted, and drawn on. She was ordered next to look to the floor. Her hair was brushed, pulled, wrapped, tied, and sprayed.

  Snorkels commanded, “Keep the attire!” Dickie could see Lindsey was wearing one of her own designs anyway. “Wire her!”

  Then William, the engineer, was counting down: “And five, four, three, two.” He pointed his finger at Dickie.

  Dickie pointed to himself. “Me?” The young man nodded.

  Dickie smiled. “We’re back.”

  “Yes, we are. Phew, that water really helped.” And Liiizette was again at his side, appearing none the
worse for wear. “How exciting that we’re actually meeting the designer of these fabulous clothes! Lindsey, tell us how medieval wear inspired you? What makes this tunic so special?”

  Dickie could see Lindsey was nervous, but when she opened her mouth to speak, she was eloquent, clear, and charming. The show suddenly took on a new vitality. Lindsey and Liiizette were two women who appreciated fashion, communicated easily with each other, and understood what women wanted to hear. As Dickie stood off to the side and Lindsey walked over to Charlena and Connie, he crossed his arms in front of his chest proudly and listened. He had no idea what they were talking about, but it sounded knowledgeable: why some fabric had been cut on the bias, why ruching had been added, why the material breathed and didn’t bunch. Liiizette would occasionally ask Dickie his opinion about which color combinations he preferred when mixing and matching—a male’s perspective—but otherwise he was left in peace.

  Then Liiizette was beaming. “Our producer has just informed me that the tunic has sold out in record time. We’ve never had an item become so popular so quickly. While our models change back into the cruise-wear pants and blouse set that is still available, Lindsey, why don’t you tell us what we can look forward to in the future from York Designs? Please tell me that the dress I’m wearing will be available. I want to buy one for myself.”

  Lindsey’s eyes sparkled; she gave a quick look over at Dickie, who was grinning, and began a detailed description of Liiizette’s dress. Then Charlena and Connie reappeared onstage and Dickie had an idea. He walked over to the women. He was determined to sell this difficult pants-and-blouse set.