MAGNET & STEELE
Written by Trisha Fuentes
Smashwords Edition
Copyright © 2009 Trisha Fuentes
THE ARDENT ARTIST BOOKS
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PRESENT DAY
This is my love story, my mother’s and mine…This is where it begins.
I’ll tell you the story how my mother once told it to me. Let’s see, how does she begin it again? Oh yes…it was springtime. The sun was about to set on the hills covered in Daffodils. Its rays leave a brilliant view of an orange-glow over a golden blanket hovering over the horizon.
Growing up with so much beauty around me led me to believe that life had been perfect. Kind of too theatrical, I know, but that’s how I remember it and then she continues by saying…and above a sweeping view of opulent neighborhoods stood a banner that displayed “THE DAFFODIL FESTIVAL”. . .
1945, New Canaan, Connecticut
Inside the wealthy country club, crystal chandeliers, fire light and candles illuminate the dwelling. Just a year before, most of the young men in town had been drafted by the army and the troops which landed in Anzio, just south of Naples attempted to out-flank the Germans, but on this night they were on R&R. It was just a few days before they were being shipped off to Iwo Jima and the men enjoyed the momentous evening listening to the orchestra playing music of the era: Glenn Miller, Rosemary Clooney, Count Basie and Artie Shaw.
Everyone was in high spirits, young and old alike celebrated not only the crowning of the Daffodil Queen, but the victory of D-Day and its results. The past few months were a tense time and a lot of folks were afraid to leave their homes; some even built underground shelters in fear of another attack on the United States. Germany had just surrendered in May and the crucial ceremony had taken place at Eisenhower’s headquarters at Reims, France and in August, the United States had dropped the atomic bomb on the Japanese city of Hiroshima, killing over 70,000, three days later a second bomb destroyed Nagasaki. But on the 2nd of September, the Japanese formally surrendered aboard the Battleship Missouri and the two attacks by the atomic bombs were convincing enough to prove to the Japanese that further resistance was useless.
Nancy Coursen has just turned eighteen and with Rita Hayworth strawberry blonde locks, the luminous face of Ava Gardner and the green eyes of Maureen O’Hara, she was oftentimes gawked at (and not only by men but with women alike) would stop in their tracks to stare at her unique beauty.
Nancy has just won “Daffodil Queen” and was receiving her crown from the reigning monarch, another stunning teenager, when she spotted Stephen Steele, also eighteen in the corner of her eye. She doesn’t want to speak to him and pretended she doesn’t notice him as he drew near to the podium where she currently stood.
Stephen Steele was obnoxious and self-absorbed, being class president, honor student and ivy-league; he carried a legacy reminiscent of a neon sign. He was Nancy’s date for the evening and dressed to the nines in a flashy white tuxedo. Always a man who tried too hard, he placed one hand in the small of Nancy’s back while the other hand saluted a thumb up to friends who were envious. Nancy and Stephen were the hot topic of the main event and the primary focus of the evening.
The crowd cheered Nancy on and the young girls covet her triumph, dreaming of the day of when they too can become Daffodil Queen just like their beautiful icon. Nancy tried to make her way down the stage and through the crowd still clapping her victory when she sensed Stephen Steele still right beside her. He was a thorn in her side as she tried to walk away from him on purpose.
My mother was beautiful, exquisite and the town adored her, but on the other hand, my father had a heritage to live up to, and at times he was thoughtless—an insensitive man. My mother and father were not meant for each other, their arranged marriage was doomed from the very beginning; there was really only one true love for my mother…
The stage was set for something magical to happen and over ‘I’ll be Seeing You’ being sung by Jo Stafford; Nancy was suddenly approached by an Italian waiter carrying a tray of champagne.
“Would you like a drink?” He asked, cautiously.
Nancy was paralyzed by the Italian waiter’s gaze. It was an intense encounter and Stephen rudely jerked her body away after noticing her sole concentration on the hired help.
“Let’s go,” Stephen said to her, clearly staking his claim.
Nancy’s head spun around; she doesn’t want to leave the moment as the Italian waiter continued to watch her as she glided out onto the dance floor still staring at only him. She had never seen anyone quite like him before and her breath quickened; the waiter was heavenly mysterious like Tyrone Power and devilishly handsome like Errol Flynn, and while dancing with her so-so partner, Nancy couldn’t help but fall in love with the thrilling stranger at first sight.
*****
The Coursen family lived in a magnificent estate. A one hundred-year-old three-story Queen Anne and maintained to its natural beauty and ambiance. A family home that had been handed down through generations, the Queen Anne was lavishly decorated with steep pitched roofs and irregular embellishments.
Family dinners were oftentimes full of monotonous conversation and unexciting details of the war, but on this night, the Steele family was over for dinner and the routine was about to get heated…
Nancy was usually cool as a cucumber, but on this night she was jittering like a freezing dog. She had been thinking too much about the Italian waiter she met at the Daffodil Festival the other night and was so overwhelmed because of it! She didn’t even know who he was or even his name! The man was an absolute Hunk! How was she ever going to stop day-dreaming about him?
In the middle of her musing, Nancy suddenly dropped her peach cobbler upside down onto her mother’s expensive white linen table cloth in the middle of the dessert being passed around. Looking at everyone embarrassed, she covered her mouth up in disbelief.
“Heck little lady—why so nervous?” Arthur Steele, Stephen’s father, quipped. He was a joker but at someone else’s expense.
“Nancy, watch what you’re doing,” Philip Coursen, Nancy’s father, instructed.
“Heck, Daffodil Queen is a shoo-in for Miss Connecticut!” Arthur said next. “The last three winners have all won Daffodil Queen and Nancy’s a looker, smart with good grades. Heck, she could even win Miss America, wouldn’t that be something son?”
Stephen nodded his head and continued to watch Nancy as she tried to wipe the peach filling off from the table.
Abigail Coursen, Nancy’s mother, was a timid housewife and reached over to take the napkin away from Nancy’s hand. “Don’t worry about it dear.”
Nancy stiffened up and then stole her mother’s napkin away to cover the stain when she wasn’t looking.
“Abigail, dinner was mighty fine as usual, wasn’t it Stephen?” Arthur asked his son who was still fixated on the beauty.
“Yeah dad, terrific,” Stephen just relayed, eyeing Nancy smoothing out the linen with her fingertips still trying to cover up the bright orange stain.
Nancy reached over for her glass of water and took a sip. Rolling her eyes, she noticed her adolescent guest still watching her every move.
Arthur shook his head at his son’s fascination, “Hey, Phil?”
“Yeah, Arty?”
“We’ve been friends how
long?”
“About twenty years.”
“And how long have we been having dinner together?”
“Just as long.”
“And when did we decide that our kids would end up married someday?”
Philip eyed Abigail and locked eyes with hers. “When they were born,” he gravely said, grabbing her hand and squeezing it tight.
Arthur regarded his good friend and the two men both eye their children simultaneously.
“These two, huh…Can you believe these two getting married?”
Nancy’s jaw practically fell out of its socket. Oh no, not again! Standing up from the table, she let out, “For the last time, no!”
Marcia Steele spoke up next. With two huge diamonds on both her ring fingers, Stephen’s socialite mother with a Georgian accent began waving them about to show her anger. “Phil, perhaps this child forgets who we are,” she said with her nose up in the air and her hands even higher, “What the Steele name brings to the community and to the history of this very state. An engagement with a Steele is an honor!”
“Oh Marcia,” Abigail chimed in, “Forgive my little girl, she meant no harm really. Of course she knows who your family is, what it means to be a Steele. Of course she knows.”
Marcia grabbed Nancy’s arm as she was about to scamper away. With daggers in her eyes, she dug her fingernails into Nancy’s skin with her intense resentment. “Don’t ever forget sweetheart that my husband is a direct descendant from John Steele who founded Hartford. You wouldn’t be where you are without Arthur.”
Nancy eyed her father huffing and puffing across the table.
“Of course she knows that Marcia,” Abigail tried to explain in defense of her daughter, “Of course she knows.”
Nancy yanked her arm away from Mrs. Steele’s death grip and hiked around to the head of the table. “I couldn’t care less!” She yelled out finally.
“Nancy, you’re outta line!” Philip shouted back at her. “Apologize to Arty and Marcia immediately.”
Nancy doesn’t express her forgiveness and darted towards the door and headed out of it. Stephen scooted back his chair and headed for the door himself but Philip beat him to it.
“Stay here son; this is a father’s duty,” he proclaimed, holding Stephen’s body back.
Inside the foyer Philip found Nancy about to exit; pulling her backwards, he questioned, “Where are you going?”
Nancy jerked her arm away from her father’s tight grip. “Daddy, I’m not some kind of trophy for you to keep passing around, I have feelings too you know!”
“You’ll do what I say and that’s an order!” Philip demanded, breathing authority into Nancy’s face. “I’m not going to let your feelings stand in the way of what’s necessary…Our plan for you.”
Nancy crossed her arms across her chest, she was so upset and watched her father say nothing else and left her alone with her continued frustration and pounding heartache.
Back in the dining room, Philip found his chair once more and took out his pipe from within his dinner jacket pocket. “She’ll come around,” he said, while packing tobacco into his pipe, “So; we’ll see Stephen here, say Saturday…around seven for dinner and then afterwards, a movie?”
May, 1945
Teenagers everywhere invaded Stanley’s Soda Shop, a neighborhood hamburger and malt shop in downtown New Canaan.
Most of its occupants were Caucasian and clean-cut and as soon as Nancy finds Kelly, her best friend since kindergarten, Nancy wiped away her tears as she arrived alongside next to her.
“Hi, I thought I’d never get outta my house,” Nancy relayed, sniffing back further moisture.
Kelly, all-American with her hair pulled back into a pony-tail took note of her best-friends strange behavior. “Why? What happened now?”
“My father—we’ve been arguing for the past week,” Nancy stated.
“Why? Whatever for?”
“Oh that same ole stuff about me and Stephen getting married.”
Kelly brightened up with Nancy’s sudden news, “So are you?”
“No! Never,” Nancy exclaimed disgusted with the notion.
“But Stephen Steele…he’s so dreamy.”
“Oh yeah? He does nothing for me.”
“You’re still hanging onto that love at first sight thing, aren’t you?” Kelly said, exasperated. “You’ve got Mr. Perfect right at your heels and all you do is step on him like a doormat.”
“I don’t want to talk about Stephen anymore, let’s talk about something else,” Nancy finalized, looking beyond the booth. Her eyes stop short of the front door. At the entrance, three young men hush the establishment with their presence.
Kelly noticed Nancy’s eyes fixated on the doorway and turned around to see who she was staring at. Three young gentlemen of Italian descent enter the dwelling. All dressed in suits and ties, they were fashionably out of place. Two of them go directly to the counter to order, while one of them stood immobile scanning the establishment for a welcoming face.
“Boy, do they have some nerve showing their faces in our joint. Don’t they have a place of their own to go?” Kelly bolted out shaking her head.
“They’re awfully brave,” Nancy ominously let go. Nancy watched the three young men as they found stools and placed their order. Stanley was hesitant at first about taking their order, but then one of the young men handed him a five-dollar bill. Nancy was uninvolved when without warning, one of the young men happened to catch her eye.
It was the Italian waiter from the other night!
Angelo Magetti was devilishly handsome but off limits to most of the girls at Stanley’s. With the darkest of dark brown hair, caramel toned skin and sexy brown eyes; he was immediately noticed by most of the female inhabitants but then straight away ignored by their same taught prejudice.
Nancy could barely contain her smile, she thought she would never see him again and decided to walk over to the jukebox just a few short feet away from he stood and all her hopes and dreams began to feel like they were actually going to come true. Was it a chance encounter? Was it written in the stars?
At the 45-record filled jukebox, Nancy calmly gazed into the glass and pretended to read the music selections through the window. In her peripheral view she could see the fella coming up alongside her and her heart beat escalated.
“Hello again,” she heard him say in a syrupy smooth accent.
Nancy continued to look straight ahead of her, “Um…hi.”
“You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” Angelo whispered softly to her so that no one else could hear their exchange. Angelo wanted to grab her hand, wanted to grab her period.
Nancy closed her eyes for a moment. Not only did she have an external smile now, but an internal one as well. Her heart craved the attention and she wanted more. Nancy turned to look at him and he was even more astonishing close up! His charming eyes, strong nose, chiseled jaw line and luscious lips overtook her in seconds and she was totally surprised at how well she could disguise her interest in him by being so nonchalant. She wanted to touch him all over and what was equally amazing was how physical chemistry worked because Nancy was so overwhelmed by every fantastic feature on his face and engulfed by the pure symmetry of his physique, that every person around her seem to fade away and into complete blackness. All she wanted to do now was to jump on him and after a few more minutes of total deliberation she realized she had been caught in a mesmerizing lock and held, “Do I know you?”
Angelo ingested her sweet voice. “Now you do,” he expressed softly, “I’m Angelo Magetti; I’ve been carrying your picture in my wallet since last week. I wanted to see if I could find you and I did.”
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