by Judy Nickles
The saleswoman who emerged from behind the counter as Celeste stepped off the elevator reminded her of a spider waiting for its prey. “Are you sure you don’t want to try it on? There’s plenty of time before closing.”
Celeste hesitated. Would it hurt to try it on? It wasn’t exactly honest, since she couldn’t afford it, but…her hands tingled at the thought of touching the alluring material.
“I wouldn’t have anywhere to wear it,” she said.
“A pretty girl like you?”
“I don’t go out much. It’s for a formal party or a dance.”
“You don’t go dancing at the St. Angelus Roof Garden?”
Celeste shook her head.
“You should. I can see you in that dress now, dancing to the music with all those lights sparkling around you.”
Celeste’s heart sped up. “I couldn’t afford it anyway.”
“Try it on, honey. You know you love it. I’ve already put a size ten in the dressing room over there.”
Celeste looked at the price tag before she slipped the dress over her head. Forty-nine-fifty—a fortune! She’d never spent so much on anything for herself before and never would. Even if she paid it out, a few dollars a week, she couldn’t have it before spring, and by then velvet would be out of season.
The dress molded to her lithe, slender frame as if it had been custom-fitted. She risked a glance in the mirror and gasped. Who was this fairy princess looking back at her? She smoothed her hair, which looked golden in the lights. Coralee said it was their mother’s hair. Then she touched the skin of her throat, white above the gently scooped neckline of dark fabric. Her arms floated in the full sleeves ending in tight cuffs at the wrist.
“Come out and let me see you,” called the saleswoman.
Celeste stepped from behind the curtain. “It doesn’t look so good with my saddle shoes, does it?”
“It was made for you.”
“It’s a little long.”
“We do alterations.”
“It’s almost fifty dollars.”
“There’s layaway.”
“But I already have some things there.”
“Turn around.” The saleswoman checked the waist, which hugged Celeste with only enough room left for comfort. She lifted the hair that fell just to Celeste’s shoulders and pulled it to one side. “A rhinestone clip,” she said. “Right here, and one for the dress. No necklace.”
“I can’t spend fifty dollars I don’t have on a dress I don’t have anyplace to wear.”
“There’s the Roof Garden, honey. You might meet the man of your dreams.” She narrowed her eyes in a knowing way. “You just might.”
The man of my dreams. Does he even exist in real life? If he does, then where is he, and when will I meet him? Certainly not dropping apples on his head. She giggled at the memory.
“I can’t,” Celeste said, averting her eyes from the mirror so she wouldn’t be tempted further. “I just can’t.”
She left the dress hanging in the fitting room and walked out of the store, calling a polite, “Thank you,” over her shoulder. She didn’t dare look back or even glance in the window at the mannequin.
****
Her father, tall and square-shouldered like Coralee, paced the lot behind the bank where he parked his ’38 Packard. Coralee had thrown a fit when he bought it new right after refusing to pay for Celeste to go to junior college that year. “Where’ve you been?”
“I went to pay on my layaway at Cox-Rushing-Greer,” Celeste said, sliding into the passenger seat.
Her father grunted and pulled out his keys. “Got groceries for the weekend?”
“Yes, sir.” I don’t know why you even ask. You don’t eat anyway, just drink.
He grunted again. They drove home in silence.
****
Celeste made herself a grilled cheese sandwich for supper and offered one to her father who, as expected, declined. He was already slightly drunk, making her wonder—not for the first time—if he kept a bottle in his desk at the bank. Taking her supper into her bedroom, she curled into the deep pink-tufted chair with her library book and put her father out of her mind.
****
Later, after rinsing her dishes and putting them aside to drain, she stepped out onto the back porch after first checking to be sure that her father wasn’t there. It was dark, but there was what everyone called a harvest moon already beginning to rise.
“Shine on, shine on harvest moon...” The words slipped unbidden from her lips. She’d sung that song with her friends around more than one campfire. Sometimes Pete had harmonized, barbershop style. He had a nice voice to go with his handsome face.
She shook her head. Why was she thinking about Pete? She wasn’t in love with him, never had been, never would be. They’d been good companions, but it ended there. Pete liked team sports, hunting, and fishing, all of which bored her, just like her talk of books and music bored him.
“We’re an odd pair,” he said once. “Salt and pepper.”
“Well, a meal needs both to be seasoned just right,” she replied.
“But you don’t mix them in the shaker.”
“No,” she agreed, “you don’t mix them in the shaker or you make a mess.”
As she stepped back inside, she thought of calling Coralee, but before she could pick up the phone, it rang. “Hi there, little sister.”
“Hi, Coralee. I was just thinking about you.”
“How was your week?”
“It was good.” I dropped an apple on a man’s head, but at least he didn’t come after me.
“Going out this weekend?”
“No, I don’t guess so.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“My laundry, I guess.”
“You ought to do more than that on a gorgeous fall weekend.”
“Well, I’ve got a new library book. I might take it to the park tomorrow after work. It’s still warm enough.”
Coralee sighed. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you.”
“I’m all right, Sister.”
“Is he...”
“In his room.”
“Cece, you need to get out of there. Find yourself a place somewhere, and a roommate. I’ll help you with money if you need it.”
“Oh, Sister, I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“What would Daddy do?”
“Hire a housekeeper, that’s what. He can afford it.”
“He wouldn’t like it if I left.” He probably wouldn’t even notice I was gone, but where would I go? And what would it be like not to have my pretty pink room to come home to?
“I guess not. You’re free labor. Sweetie, he’s not going to change. If you’re hanging around waiting for that to happen, you’re out of luck.”
“I’m not…”
“Oh, all right. So tell me something exciting that happened this week.”
“This is long distance, Coralee.”
“Ben doesn’t care.”
“Well, I went to work, and this afternoon after I got paid, I deposited my check and went to pay on my layaway. Wait ’til you see what I got Barbara for Christmas.”
“You shouldn’t spend your money on her. She gets more than is good for her just from her grandparents here.”
“Who else would I spend it on?”
“Yourself, for one.”
“I tried on a dress.”
“What kind of dress?”
“Oh, Coralee, it was so beautiful! It was blue velvet, but it was for a party or a dance. I couldn’t wear it to the places I go.”
“Not to church?”
“It’s way too fancy for that.”
“But you liked it.”
“The saleswoman said it was made for me. It’s a little long. Most things are long on me. I’m too short, but I guess I’m through growing, huh?”
“You’re just right. Tell me more about the dress.”
“The saleslady had the idea I cou
ld wear it to go dancing at the Roof Garden.”
“You should.”
“I couldn’t. I mean, how would it look for me to go up there alone?”
“You wouldn’t need a date. I used to go with some of my friends when I was in high school. Don’t you remember? I’d go on the weekends when Ben went home to see his parents. Get one of your friends from work to go with you. It might be fun.”
“Coralee, I just couldn’t. I’d be embarrassed.”
“How much does the dress cost?”
“Too much.”
“How much?”
“I’m not going to tell you, because I’m not going to buy it.”
“Oh, Celeste, we’ve got to get you out of your rut.”
“I’m fine, Sister. Kiss Barbara for me, okay?”
“I will. Love you.”
“Love you, too. Bye.”
Celeste stood in the hall savoring the warmth of her sister’s voice. Without a doubt, Coralee was the best sister in the world. For awhile, after she first married, she’d bought Celeste a bus ticket to come to Sterling City every weekend. The visits tapered off when Celeste started high school and got involved in other activities, but holidays still meant the ranch and Coralee, Ben, and Barbara, Big Ben and Pearl.
****
A vision of the blue velvet dress swayed provocatively in front of her eyes as she bathed and then got into bed. She almost wished she hadn’t seen it, but it was so lovely…so very beautiful…and she’d looked gorgeous in it. Gorgeous beyond belief. Celeste felt herself blushing. She wasn’t beautiful at all, but the dress…the dress was miraculous.
****
The young man came across the dance floor holding out his hand, but she couldn’t quite see his face. “May I have this dance?”
He moved with the grace of a willow tree blowing in the breeze, holding her at arms’ length as they danced and yet with an intimacy that both thrilled and frightened her. “You look like a princess,” he said.
“I am a princess in my blue velvet dress. I am a queen.”
“And I am a prince. I’ll take you away with me.”
“Are you really a prince?”
“I really am.”
“Then at midnight I’ll have to go, or everything will turn back the way it was.”
“Not if you go with me.”
“If I go with you?”
“Don’t you want to?”
“Yes, I want to. I want very much to go.”
He took her arm and led her toward an alcove hung with blue velvet like her dress. “If we go through that door, you’ll be safe.” He didn’t say safe from what.
Somewhere a clock began to strike the hour. “Hurry.”
Her feet, heavy like lead, refused to move.
“Hurry,” he said again.
She tried to move and couldn’t. When the last chime sounded, she stood alone, the blue velvet curtains billowing in front of her. And when she looked down, she was wearing her grey wool skirt and matching sweater, with her saddle shoes.
“My dress!” she called out, her voice echoing eerily in the fading light. “My blue velvet dress!”
****
Celeste woke with a start, yearning to be held and loved, aching with desire for even more than that, though she couldn’t put it into words. She’d never felt this way when she was with Pete or any other boy in her class. Sometimes a movie or a romance novel could stir vague feelings of longing, but not like these she struggled with now. They consumed her whole body, leaving her confused and ashamed. Without thinking, she stretched her arms into the darkness, wanting to embrace something. The words “warm flesh” came to mind, the same words that had made her return a library book unfinished because of its disquieting effect on her emotions.
You’re fourteen, Cece. You’re growing up, Coralee said that summer day as they sat on the corral fence watching Ben break a new cutting horse. You’re going to have lots of new thoughts and feelings, but remember—there’s nothing wrong with them. Just do what you know is right, even if someone else tries to change your mind.
Celeste had kept waiting for those feelings, but they’d only surfaced in the last year or so. And, somehow, she questioned Coralee’s explanation that there was nothing wrong with them.
Chapter Two
Celeste put the ledgers into the safe and closed it, spun the dial twice, then checked the handle.
“Think they’re going to run away over Sunday?” Mr. Thomas asked with a wink.
“No, sir, but you did say to make sure they were locked up before I left.”
“Mostly for fire,” he said. “Nobody’s going to steal them.”
“No, sir.”
“Well, have a nice weekend, Miss Riley. Got any plans?”
“Just the usual.”
The older man chuckled. “The usual. Washing out a few things.”
Celeste blushed.
“I beg your pardon if I embarrassed you, Miss Riley. I had three daughters, so I got used to frilly little things hanging all over the place. I used to tease my girls about embarrassing me.”
She couldn’t stifle the giggle that rose in her throat. “No, sir, that’s all right.”
He held the door for her. “See you on Monday.”
She waved to the girls still working the counters before she stepped through the door onto the sidewalk. Saturday afternoons were busy in town because of all the folks coming in from the surrounding farming communities and ranches. She felt at loose ends, not wanting to go home to what she knew was waiting for her there, but what else was there to do?
She found herself walking toward Cox-Rushing-Greer instead of the bus stop. From the store window, the blue velvet dress beckoned her, offering no respite, no refusal. She pressed her nose against the glass, trying to drink in every detail of the garment. For a moment, she had a fleeting feeling of being able to reach out and touch something from the past. Then it was gone.
“You look like a princess.”
“I am a queen in my blue velvet dress.”
Celeste squeezed her eyes shut as if to dispel her dream thoughts. When she opened them again, the same saleslady who had persuaded her to try on the dress waved through the window, motioning her to come in. Against her better judgment, but with a burgeoning feeling of anticipation, Celeste pushed open the glass door.
“It’s still the most beautiful dress I’ve ever seen in my whole life, and I still can’t afford it.” She spoke the apology with a wistful sigh.
“It’s a lot of money, I’ll agree, but you looked wonderful in it. Sure you don’t want to put it on layaway?”
“I have some things there already.”
“Uh-huh, well, I understand.”
Celeste hesitated before moving to where the dress was on display inside the store. After a moment, as she touched the skirt with the tip of one finger, something stirred in her again. She tried to examine the thought, but it eluded her. She shook herself mentally.
“If I can figure out a way to do it, I’ll be back,” she said as she edged toward the door. “But don’t hold your breath.”
Waiting for the bus at the next corner, she was startled to hear, “Well, well, the apple lady.”
She looked up, then back at the sidewalk. “I’m so sorry. I hope you weren’t hurt.”
“I’m damaged for life since I looked up and saw you.”
She felt the color creeping into her face.
“Ah, she blushes like the apple—or maybe a rose. A rose is better.”
“I’m sorry,” she said again.
“For blushing? Don’t be. I think it’s nice. Where are you headed?”
“Home.”
“I guess it wouldn’t be proper to ask you…”
The bus squealed to a stop, and Celeste jumped on, hoping he wouldn’t follow her. When he didn’t, she breathed a sigh of relief and dropped into the nearest seat and leaned her head against the window. The boy—no, he was a young man—was flirting with her. She didn’t know how
to flirt and didn’t want to learn. But she had to admit, from the safety of the bus leaving him behind, that she liked it.
She turned her thoughts back to the dress. Fifty dollars! It was insane to even consider it when she made $22.50 a week. Besides, where would she wear it? It didn’t matter what she dreamed. Her prince wouldn’t be at the St. Angelus Hotel Roof Garden, not in a million years.
****
She washed her lingerie in the bathroom sink and hung it discreetly on a line in the back yard, hidden from view by the boxwoods that made a thick privacy fence between the house and the street. Inside, she ran the carpet sweeper in every room except her father’s where, she assumed, he was still sleeping—or drinking—or maybe a little of both, and dusted the unused living room. On her hands and knees, she scrubbed the cracked kitchen linoleum that needed replacing. The one time she’d suggested it, her father flew into a rage and yelled he wasn’t made of money. After that, when mopping didn’t get the dirt out of the cracks, she took to scrubbing the floor by hand.
The princess in the story Coralee used to read to me scrubbed floors and stairs on her hands and knees and met her prince anyway—or maybe because of her hard work. She earned the right to her happily-ever-after. Maybe I will, too.
In her own room, the one she’d shared so happily with Coralee, she cleaned and straightened her dressing table, wiping her mother’s picture with a piece of old dishtowel and then followed up with the collection of leprechauns Coralee had rescued from the mantel after their father’s angry outburst about Celeste moving to the ranch. They’d been a set of twelve, but he’d smashed one beyond repair. The other, broken in three pieces, was still missing the end of its pointed cap, but Celeste had glued the rest of it back together.
She spread a fresh dresser scarf and returned the picture and the figurines to their accustomed place. I wonder why Mamma liked these little things. I keep them around because they were hers, but they’re really kind of ugly, especially the one with the long beard and the frown on his face. Did she believe in the luck of the Irish? Did she believe in fairy tales? Was Daddy her prince?
