Five dresses total. With Melanie’s to play off, the designs had come together quickly and easily. The dresses would be very similar in look, though matched to each woman’s figure of course. And each would be primarily in a single color from the opera that best highlighted their complexion: Cassidy’s black, Jo’s sky blue, Maria’s red, and Perrin’s gold. Melanie would be the montage that each of them complemented. They should all arrive together in a limo. That would create a proper sensation.
Jo and Cassidy hunted her down later that night, coming to the shop and banging on the glass.
They’d tried to make sure everything was okay and ask how could they help. They tried to force food on her from a care package Maria had put together before sending them over. They tried to get her to stop for a moment.
Perrin didn’t have time for any of that. In minutes she had them working in the studio; and they cut, pinned, and sewed to her direction. It didn’t take long for them all to settle in and work together. They talked and they laughed—it was so normal. Perrin would never know what about and didn’t care. All she cared about was how much she loved these women and how much they loved her. She made a point of telling them so several times as they worked.
Then she had one more idea. One she didn’t even need to sketch. It was a good idea, but she wasn’t ready to work on just yet.
Jerimy’s call to meet with Richard, the lighting designer, brought Perrin to the Opera offices. He also tactfully informed her that Bill would be over at the Opera House overseeing the first staging rehearsal walk-through that afternoon, which she greatly appreciated.
She, Jerimy, and Richard sat at the big cutting table, all of the primary costumes turned face-out on racks in front of them. Jaspar sat quietly off to the side watching. She was starting to understand that about him. Tamara would think something through. Jaspar followed his instincts.
Jasper was an older soul in a way, despite Tamara’s mothering of him. His mother’s death had made him more like Cassidy. Actually they’d both lost their moms at about the same age. Cassidy had become an adult that day, as had Jaspar. He’d been a bit more buffered by Tamara’s care, but Perrin could see the similarity of the effect.
Jerimy turned off the lights in this end of the Costume Shop. Richard had set up a pair of lights about ten feet apart and laid out a dozen different colored gels. The colored transparent sheets fit into steel frames that then slid into slots at the front of the lighting instruments.
“Now we can see what challenges you’ve set me.”
The white light was the closest to what Perrin was used to working with. Fashion runways were brightly lit so that every detail could be seen. There was some coloring, but not much. And most of her designs were designed for wear in daylight, office light, or at some party. Again, all shades of white.
Then he put a pale blue in front of one instrument and a soft pink in the front of the other. It was as if the costumes had jumped into three dimensions.
Jaspar had moved up on Jerimy’s other side, “Could you do that again?”
Richard slid the two gels out of the way and then dropped them back in.
“Okay, thanks.” With that single demonstration, Perrin could feel Jaspar neatly filing away whole categories of information. Just as Cassidy had during college when she also took classes at the Culinary Institute of America just up the highway. Each new bit of knowledge neatly filed, creating an order to the chaos that surrounded them.
Richard turned on a third light in between the other two, shooting forward from a low stand right in front of them.
“This one is called Bastard Amber, that’s its real name.”
“But it’s pinkish, why do they call it that?” Perrin left Jaspar to ask the questions, though she would have asked the exact same thing.
“Hold your good arm in front of the instrument.”
“It’s warm,” Jaspar commented.
“Right. These instruments throw a lot of heat. Wait until you’re onstage with half a hundred instruments on, you’ll really heat up. Now watch your skin.” He dropped in the gel.
“I don’t get it.”
“You look more natural,” Perrin told him. “Your skin is warmer, more alive, but the costumes look kind of the same.”
Richard slid the gel in and out a few times.
In exasperation Jaspar had her trade places with him.
“Her skin is so light, you can really see it,” Richard said before dropping the gel back in.
Beyond the bright light, she could see Jaspar nodding. “I couldn’t see it so much up close. It’s kind of too much for her, isn’t it.”
“Try some of the others.”
Jaspar started holding one after another in front of the lens without putting them in the slot.
“The red makes her look all blotchy, even worse than the fake amber.”
When he tried a green filter, Perrin did her best to make frog noises.
“Ick! What’s that for?”
Richard laughed, “You usually use it behind people for landscape scenes, underwater like for the Rhinemaidens in Wagner’s Ring, or even a darker one for dangerous forest.”
Jaspar made a couple more changes then declared, “This one makes her look nicest.”
“Good eye. That one is a good match for her skin. But now look at the costumes behind her.”
“Uh,” Jaspar studied them. “It’s okay if she’s the Princess or the True Love, but it totally sucks if she’s the Empress.”
“Well, I’m no Empress, so we’re all safe there.” Perrin turned around to look at the costumes as Jerimy and Richard laughed. “You’re right, Jaspar. That’s nasty.”
They shared a smile.
“You see, Jaspar,” Richard began making notes, “there’s no perfect lighting. It’s a balancing act and compromises.”
Mika came in with the makeup cards and they soon passed beyond where Perrin could follow. It was a language as unique as her own about texture and line. It was the language of light, and she could see Jaspar absorbing it just sitting there at Richard’s side.
Two nights later, Perrin almost didn’t answer when she saw Bill’s number on the phone. She wasn’t ready to talk to him yet. There was too much to un-say and too much that couldn’t be said yet. Not while everything was so out of order. She wouldn’t even know where to start. Well, perhaps he would know.
Finally, steeling her nerves, she answered.
“Hi, Ms. Williams.”
“Tamara,” she fell back and was thankful for the stool behind her when she landed on it.
“Uh, I have to be quick. I had to use Dad’s phone to get your number. You aren’t mad at us, are you? At…me?” The girl’s voice nearly cracked from the strain.
“Of course not, no, Tamara. Never mad at you. Feeling like an idiot six different ways, but never mad.”
Tamara sniffled slightly. “That’s what Jasp said, but I didn’t believe him. Guess I should have. The little troll is always right. Jasp wore the sling and the sword today at rehearsal; it looked great.”
“That’s good.” Perrin knew she was missing something. Jaspar had told Tammy that Perrin wouldn’t be mad. Did that mean that maybe Bill wasn’t…
“We don’t have rehearsal tomorrow night. Can you come over for dinner?”
It was a good thing she was sitting down so that she didn’t fall down.
“Uh, who’s asking?”
“Jasp’s idea. Something about maybe we just needed to try each other on for size. I make a pretty good lasagna.”
“I’ll bring a salad,” some autonomic part of her responded.
“Cool, we’ll be home by six. ‘By—”
“Tamara?”
“What?”
“Does your dad know?”
“Nope. Don’t tell.” And the connection went dead.
Perrin had found a new level of “completely nervous” that she’d never known existed. If she could have called back to beg off, she would have. But if she called on
Bill’s phone, she’d get Bill. And she didn’t have the numbers for the kids’ emergency-only cell phones. Her level of nerves definitely ranked as emergency, the national-level kind, call out the Red Cross and the National Guard.
She couldn’t even think of what to wear. She almost called Maria before deciding that she just needed to breathe deeply. She wasn’t going to dinner with the King and Queen, no matter how it felt. A dress was too far over the top. A skirt probably too much as well.
What would she wear for a casual evening at home? Tattered and faded Vassar College sweatpants and a fleece hoodie sweatshirt were her usual first choices. Too far the other way. She really needed to get a grip.
Perrin finally settled on jeans and sandals with some crazy-colored socks that Patsy had made for her from something she called magic yarn, the opera t-shirt, and the fleece hoodie just because she needed the extra level of security.
She was fifteen minutes early and drove past the house to park on a back street to just sit and wait. As the minutes stretched, her nerves became so bad, she knew she wouldn’t make it the whole time without deciding to go home. With five minutes to go, she drove up to the house.
Perrin had sat in the kitchen once before, after dropping off Tammy, but she’d been too wired to notice much. Now she was so hyped up that she noticed everything.
Their house was in the Greenwood neighborhood, just a few miles north of downtown; a remodel of a remodel of a remodel Bill had informed her. The street was steep and narrow, enough room for two cars to pass, if they were careful and everyone parked close to the one curb that had parking.
The blue-gray two-story house with forest-green shutters and trim had a surprising amount of privacy in the crowded neighborhood. It stood on a rise a dozen steps above street level behind a massive old hawthorn tree. The porch light was on and she could see the living room light through the original diamond-cut window.
When she klonked the big brass door knocker, it felt as if it echoed throughout the quiet neighborhood. “Here be an interloper!” it announced. The desire to turn and run surged through her again, defeated by being too nervous to do any running. She thought she heard someone call out, “Dad, can you get the door?”
Oh no!
Then the door was open. Bill stood there, backlit by the bright living room and looking really, really good in bare feet, jeans, and an open flannel shirt over a blue t-shirt.
“Perrin?” he barely managed a whisper.
She might have to kill Tamara and the conspiring Jaspar later, but for the kids’ sake, she took the bit. Clearly it was up to her to make it work.
“I was invited to dinner by your children. That is, if you’re willing to invite me into your house.”
“The kids?” His eyes widened and his jaw dropped like in an old, silent movie.
She tried to fight down the smile, but knew she wasn’t succeeding. “I brought a salad.” Perrin held out the covered bowl as if that would make everything make sense.
Bill closed his mouth, then both his eyes. He opened one as if checking that she was still standing there. Then he looked up toward the ceiling, “Thank you.” He almost launched himself at her, but stopped when she warned him off with a slight shake of her head.
His careful nod acknowledged both the wisdom and the regret of that choice. Then he held open the door and she walked in.
“Well at least that explains the lasagna mystery.”
She looked over at his whisper.
“It’s Tammy’s signature ultra-special-occasion dish. She cooks a couple nights a week to help me out, but we don’t get her lasagna very often. It’s good. That little sneak.”
The front door opened right into the living room. It was comfortable rather than being austere. More bookcases than art. A couple of well-used couches and chairs sat on a rug that had definitely seen years of children. A big, octagonal coffee table that appeared to have sixteen different projects on it, as well as three relatively clear spaces where they probably set their dinners on most nights. A big television hung to one side, though not one of the monsters—available, but not the center of attention. She could easily see them all hanging out here together.
Bill took the salad bowl, brushing her hand as he did so. The electric shock shook her. Distance and time had increased her reaction to him rather than decreased it. Standing here, barefoot in the center of his domain, he was so incredibly, perfectly male. His eyes darkened just looking at her. Well, at least that hadn’t changed between them.
Perrin turned away to continue the tour.
A wide, carpeted stairway led up to what must be the bedrooms. Off the other side of the living room, was a pair of rooms connected with an open arch.
“Our offices, though they spread bigger projects out over the dining room table for weeks at a time. We actually don’t get to eat at it much.” Perrin peeked in. Two smaller desks were in the front part of the room. They were mostly neat, though it was easy to see which was which. The wall around Tamara’s had numerous fashion magazine photo spreads torn out and taped up. The growth looked fairly recent. Jaspar’s was actually neater, mostly dinosaurs and a half-dozen well-done model airplanes dangling overhead from bits of thread. A book open on the desk had a diagram just like the one Richard had been using to map out his stage lighting design.
Beyond the arch, was Bill’s larger desk, that looked as if it had been hit by a hurricane. A new facet to the man, so terribly organized in his public life. She liked that he had a messy side.
“It’s all so…normal, Bill. You’ve made a magnificent home for them.”
He stood beside her looking about the room as if he’d never seen it before. His glance at her registered that he was aware in this moment of just how different it was from her own childhood, and that maybe she could judge better than he did.
“Think about it. How many kids share an office with their dad?”
“I, uh… It just seemed the right way to use the space when I did it.” Then he finally nodded, acknowledging that maybe he hadn’t done so badly after all, as if there was any doubt.
On the far side of the living room from the front door, they stepped into the connected dining room and kitchen, separated only by a long counter with a gap in the middle. It was the only part of the house she really remembered from her prior visit. Last time Jaspar had been asleep, or had been pretending to be, Tamara headed that way, and the front room was dark. Now there were lights on everywhere and an oldies station playing.
Bill rolled his eyes when he saw her noticing it. It was as if the kids thought she and Bill had been adults in the 1960s rather than the twenty-first century.
Jaspar greeted her with a quick wave from where he was busy half-tossing a fourth setting at the table one-handed. Apparently that was all he was willing to offer, but she was glad to wave back.
“Scamp,” Bill accused him and received back a glowing smile for his insult.
Tamara ran out of the kitchen area and, after only the briefest hesitation, threw herself into Perrin’s arms. They held each other hard, like sisters too long apart. She kissed Tamara on top of her head. Then, continuing to forget all of her hard-won thirteen-year-old decorum, Tamara rushed back into the kitchen to make sure everything was all right.
The last room was a big space beyond the dining room. It had tools, toys, some miscellaneous furniture, and a forlorn-looking vacuum cleaner. A room they didn’t use much.
“The house was really too big for us, but the kids fell in love with it, and it’s right near a very good school.”
Perrin smiled slightly as she moved to help Jaspar light candles and Bill headed into the kitchen to assist his daughter. Perrin only now noticed that once through the door, she’d relaxed. Somehow, all of her nerves had remained out on the porch.
Bill considered simply slipping under the table in a small puddle of contentment. In some ways this meal had been less casual than the dressed up dinner. It felt a little foreign to be eating at the dining table. Also
, he’d been far more aware of the dynamics as the conversation had ranged over school projects, books, and the upcoming opening at the Opera.
Tammy was so glad to have Perrin sitting at the table that she was even more incoherent than Bill was. Jaspar was now the one he was being forced to see differently. How was it that his children kept growing up around Perrin? One moment he’d be wondering what it must be like to ride an elephant as Kim did in Kipling’s tale. The next, he’d be watching Perrin and his interactions as if they were lab animals to be observed.
Tammy had told Bill more than once that Jaspar was really smart about people. Now he could see it. But he could also see that his son would make a fearsome poker player some day—he was far too good at keeping his thoughts to himself. He felt sad, the boy’s spontaneity was another thing Adira had taken with her to the grave.
“Okay, Tamara,” Perrin sighed happily. “You have to feed that lasagna to Angelo some night, it will make him crazy it’s so good.”
Perrin’s compliment had Tammy positively beaming. She was first to stand from the table and started to gather plates.
“Cut that out,” Bill told her. “You cooked. Cook doesn’t clean.”
“But Jasp can’t—”
“Grownups will clean up. We still know how. C’mere.”
She came straight into his arms.
He held her tightly and whispered in her ear. “You did it perfect, honey. I’m so proud of you.” Then he raised his voice, “Now scoot, I’m sure your homework is waiting for you somewhere.”
She scooted, with a hop and a skip she hadn’t had since Jaspar broke his arm last week. He was shocked at how much he missed it, how easily he took her naturally bright nature for granted. He had to cut that out and remember what a gift she was. That both of them were.
“And you,” he aimed a finger at Jaspar who was just clambering out of his chair. He was already a little gawky, just as Bill had been at that age before he’d started to really hit the growth spurts. “I don’t know what your part was in this, but whatever it was, you did it right.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
The Complete Where Dreams Page 82
