Pride and Audacity — Part 4

Victoria relaxed in the lounge chair in Applewood’s courtyard and watched Talli decorate mud pies with bits of leaves, rose petals, and colored confetti. Her raw, artistic imagination needed to be developed. Victoria made a mental note to check out local art teachers.

Thinking of developing raw talent, she certainly stood under the same umbrella herself. If everything went well, she was starting a set of events that would change her life completely. Being a single parent would be the biggest challenge she’d ever undertaken, and one she knew herself ill-prepared for.

The little girl, whose fingers formed yet another pie, reminded her of why she was embracing a task sure to spill over with complexity and complication. Quite simply, the children completed her world in a way not previously thought possible and, more importantly, she loved them.

Until now, the driving force in her life had been atoning for the loss of her mother and brother. To accomplish the unattainable goal, she’d shaped herself into her father’s right-hand man, hoping to make up for the son he would never have. In the process, she’d lost something elusive and indefinable within herself.

These children did not want her to be something she wasn’t. They loved her the way she was. They needed her…she needed them. Before her decision to adopt, motherhood seemed a concept positioned just out of her reach. Children usually came with an unwanted requirement…a husband. Liking men was not a problem. She liked them just fine, as the occasional social partner or business colleague. In any other capacity, she found them selfish, egotistical, and quite frankly, weak. She didn’t possess a lot of personal experience, but the lives of those around her certainly supported her conclusions.

Victoria noticed the leggy young girl with long brown hair striding toward her. Her name, Breeze, fit this child of the elements. She was refreshing, warm, and always welcome.

“Hi, Victoria. Thanks for watching Talli for me. I’ve been helping to bake cookies for an afternoon snack.”

“What kind of tookies did you make?” asked Talli.

Breeze smiled and numbered the selection on her fingers. “Chocolate chip, peanut butter, and sugar cookies with pink icing and sprinkles on top.”

Victoria adored the gentle way Breeze cared for her little sister. Like now, running her hand softly across the top of Talli’s head, smoothing back the mass of springy curls and removing some of the mud and other pie-making essentials from her hair.

“Do you want some real peanut butter cookies?” Breeze asked her sister.

“With milt too?” Talli questioned.

Breeze nodded her head and Talli put down her paper plate filled with muddy pie filling. She brushed the extra dirt off her legs and smiled at Victoria. “You going to have some tookies too, Toria?” she asked.

“I don’t have time today, sweetie. I need to return to work. You go along with Breeze before all those yummy cookies disappear. I’ll be back for story hour this evening.”

The two girls walked hand-in-hand toward the cafeteria, Breeze slowing to accommodate Talli’s laborious pace. Victoria wondered if all older sisters were as caring as Talli’s. Probably not, after all, Breeze had been given the task before she was old enough to know she wasn’t supposed to like it. She was six years older than her little sister, but decades older in her acceptance of the role of caregiver. Victoria’s heart ached to see her slight little shoulders carry such an awesome responsibility.

Breeze never laughed, even the smallest smile seldom appeared on her lips and never in her wide, mud-puddle eyes. With parents who would rather party than care for their little girls, Breeze learned early that her baby sister’s welfare depended on her. Those same parents had ended up making these little girls orphans. One too many parties, one too many beers, one very deadly car accident, and Talli had become Breeze’s responsibility. Victoria longed to give both girls the carefree childhood they deserved before time took that away too.

* .* .*

Victoria swiveled her chair and gazed out the expanse of glass making up the north wall of her office. Situated on the 57th floor of the Ballard Building, it framed a commanding view of the New York skyline in its enclosure. If she stood and looked down, she could see the activity in the silent realm below. It was like watching TV with the mute button pressed.

Another week had passed with its usual array of contract, investment, and acquisition meetings. Nothing out of the ordinary, so why was she experiencing a constant flux of agitation? Her state-of-mind irked her. She couldn’t sit still, and she definitely wasn’t getting any work done. She pushed one shoe off and shoved the pinching offender out of sight under her desk. Why couldn’t her illogical case of nerves disappear as easily? What possible reason could she have for this full-blown sense of pending doom?

She glanced up at the sky expecting to see a thundercloud waiting for the right moment to unleash its raging violence on top of her head. None of which made any sense. Like a bolt of lightning, the sound of the intercom startled her. Her father was holding on line three. Turning the chair back to her desk, she lifted the receiver. “Hello, Father. How may I help you?”

“Victoria, I have some important papers I need your signature on.”

She could hear the sound of traffic in the background, meaning her father was not in his office. Glancing at her watch, she had just thirty minutes to get to her next appointment. “I’m just leaving for a previous engagement. Why don’t we do this first thing in the morning?”

“This can’t wait. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

Left with an empty line, she hung up the phone. Her father never rushed the signing of any papers, no matter how trivial. Perhaps this would turn out to be the gloom and doom foreshadowed by her premonitions. Victoria grinned at her own melodrama and sat down to check her appointment calendar. The Children’s Charity Ball was on the twenty-first, giving her just five days in which to choose her costume and arrange for delivery. A chore she dreaded.

Coming to terms with the inevitable, she’d called first thing that morning and made an appointment to take care of her costume selection in the afternoon. Her appointment was with Madam Soladar, owner of a boutique known for its exotic selection of costume wear. Her best friend had been insisting she visit the new establishment. Any recommendation from Jessica was usually a cause for worry. But not having a better idea, Victoria made the call. Knowing her friend’s fondness for adventure, she wondered what she might be getting herself in to.

Jessica possessed not once ounce of social fear, charting her life without a twinge of reserve or regret. What a spectacle she’d presented at last year’s Masquerade Ball with her ghoulish Bride of Dracula costume. Victoria envied her friend’s unconventional approach to life even though her methods were unnerving. at times. Nevertheless, Jessica’s choices seemed to prove auspicious for her, paving the way for whatever outrageous thing she wanted to try. Victoria wondered what it would be like, just once, to do the unexpected, the unthinkable.

Her father’s arrival startled her as he strode through her office door. “I’m sorry to cause you any inconvenience. It will only take a moment to sign these. I’m sure you’ll make your appointment on time.” Placing the stack of papers in front of her, he proceeded to point out which sheets needed a signature.

Confusion filled her mind. This wasn’t the way he’d taught her to do business. “Let me take a look at them first,” she said, taking hold of the top few sheets.

“For heaven’s sake, Victoria! I’m not stripping the company of assets and making you an accomplice. This deal required putting together in a hurry. I need your signature immediately so I can meet a deadline.”

Her father never lost his temper or snapped at anyone, including her. His face was pinched tight. Even his eyes looked different. Always a serious dusty-blue, they now appeared grayish, feeble. His hands trembled as well.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“What do you mean?” He pushed the stack of papers closer to her.

“You don’t look well. Is there a problem I should know about?”

“No, I’m fine. This project has a short deadline. I’m sure you understand.”

Her father usually looked her in the eye, but this time, he kept his focus on the papers laying atop her desk. Victoria knew she wasn’t getting the whole story, but due to time constraints, she decided to ignore her concerns for the present. Knowing her father’s single-mindedness, she wouldn’t get more out of him until he was ready anyway.

“Do you have copies of these I can look over later?”

“Sure, I’ll get them to you tomorrow.” He sighed.

“I don’t like this. However, I suppose rushing through a signing isn’t a life-altering situation. Let’s finish so I can get to my appointment on time.”

Jacob quickly flipped through the pages indicating where she should put her signature. Victoria signed several when she came to a page whose script was in an unfamiliar language. “What type of contract is this?”

“A transfer of some personal holdings, nothing you need to concern yourself with. Your signature is a formality really, but necessary. Look, honey, I know you have an appointment and I don’t want to trouble you further. You can be sure I’ll explain all this to you in detail when the time is right…I mean when you have more time.”

Scarlet splotches discolored her father’s cheeks. She’d never known him to be hesitant or self-conscious before. He collected his paperwork, gave her a half-smile, and left her office as quickly as he’d entered.

Her gloomy premonition grew persistently darker. Irritated by its irrational progression, she set about the task of straightening her desk and retrieving her shoes. A few shoulder shrugs relieved some of the tension knotting her muscles. She would dismiss these silly forebodings before they turned a bad day into a worse calamity.

* * .*

Victoria crossed the threshold of Madam Soladar’s. The reception area, decorated with Moorish and Gypsy charm was over-the-top. The scene tickled her imagination, and she couldn’t resist turning in a circle to view every angle. Persian rugs, woven wall panels, brightly colored furnishings, and a large red chandelier filled the space. Aqua and Gold Ottomans sat about the room while satin, jewel-toned pillows accented every niche with vibrant color.

“Wouldn’t this make a great movie set for The Desert Sheikh and the Slave Girl?”

Jessica’s intriguing tone drew Victoria’s attention to her friend who lounged seductively across two ottomans. The flush on Jessica’s cheeks and the merriment in her eyes would have looked natural on the face of a five-year-old.

“It’s certainly interesting,” replied Victoria.

“You’re a little late,” chided Jessica as she rose and walked to Victoria’s side. “Madam Soladar and I made some preliminary choices for you to view. You’re going to love these costumes. They’re each original. You don’t have to worry about someone else showing up at the ball looking better than you in your own costume.”

Victoria laughed, enjoying the first spark of enthusiasm for her dreaded task. At the same moment, Madam Soladar entered the room followed by three models dressed in different costumes. All the garments were visually stunning, but none seemed just right for her. They were too theme oriented. On the other hand, the cyan caftan worn by the owner was dazzling. Its glistening yards of silk embellished in gold, floral embroidery, and bead-work flowed majestically around its wearer.

“This is your chance, Victoria,” whispered Jessica. “The right costume could put some kick in your dull life. Don’t keep me in suspense, which one are you going to choose?”

Madam Soladar’s soft voice saved Victoria from more of Jessica’s zealous eagerness. “I chose what I thought would suit your personality and stature. Your friend was kind enough to give me some suggestions. I hope you approve.”

“All of these are very nice,” Victoria said as she considered the samples: A 50’s collection, a 20’s Flapper ensemble, and a ‘Golden Age’ jewel-encrusted gown. The latter looked as though it had come straight out of Mrs. Vanderbilt’s closet.

Jessica fidgeted next to her. Her friend made decisions like other people made instant oatmeal, in thirty seconds or less, and hated waiting on slower mortals.

“I think you’d look great in the Flapper outfit,” Jessica said with a big wink as she nudged Victoria’s arm. “The fringed skirt will play hide-and-seek with your legs and drive all the men crazy.”

Victoria gave Jessica a forced smile. “I appreciate your thoughtfulness in making these selections for me, but I had in mind something a little different. In fact, I really love the beautiful creation Madam Soladar is wearing. The embellishments are a work of art.”

“Your interest flatters me,” said Madam Soladar. “I have been reluctant to offer the clothing of my culture since it is not fully appreciated by many. I regret to say, Miss Ballard, I do not have a caftan of this quality to offer you at this time. There is another possibility, though.”

Madam Soladar looked at her closely, as if there were some additional information written on Victoria’s forehead or in her eyes. The solemn, gentle scrutiny embarrassed her. She was glad when the proprietress spoke again.

“You have the eyes of a moonflower, sensuous and beckoning. I believe you are enticed a little by the unknown and exotic. These things are essential for a very special costume of extraordinary beauty. If you have the time, I will arrange an immediate viewing?”

“How wonderful. She has the time, don’t you, Victoria?” Jessica nudged her in the side.

Victoria struggled to understand the import of Madam Soladar’s strange expression. Bemused, she nodded in agreement while she pondered the words…sensuous and beckoning.

Jessica grasped Victoria’s hand as soon as Madam Soladar exited the room. Her eyes scanned the salon. Bending toward Victoria, she whispered into her ear. “Whatever do you think she means?”

Wondering the same thing, Victoria said the first thing she could think of. “Have a little patience, Jessica. Madam Soladar seems to know what she is doing. I think we can trust her choice.”

Both women sat with their backs spindle straight, hands clenched, and eyes trained on the archway as Madam Soladar returned through the opening. They followed her graceful approach across the richly designed carpet. Both sucked in a deep breath as she took her seat beside Victoria.

“We are almost ready. The clothing I am about to show you is very special to me. These pieces are replicas of a garment fashioned for a princess of my people. The princess wore them as she danced for her husband at their bridal feast. The story says he fell so much in love with her he emptied his harem, staying faithful only to her. The innocence glowing in your eyes will do honor to these garments.”

Victoria felt her cheeks heat with color. Beads of perspiration popped out on her forehead as harem attire danced through her mind. The hush in the room was pregnant with mysterious possibilities. Jessica found nothing to say. Victoria waited for Madam Soladar to continue. She swallowed to loosen a throat frozen with anticipation and twisted the strap of her purse between her fingers. Instinct warned her to back away from the uncomfortable situation. But Madam Soladar’s excitement as she continued her narrative wrenched away Victoria’s fleeting opportunity.

“The colors used in the ensemble have significant meaning: The pink pearls represent the purity of love, the matching pink fabric represents the treasure of innocence, and the gold beads and center broach represent the glowing heat of love’s passion.”

Victoria’s heartbeat took on the rhythm of Jazzy tap dance. Mortification heated her skin to an insufferable sensitivity. At the sound of tinkling bells, she focused on the open archway. A young girl glided into the room. About twenty years of age with bare feet and sweeping black hair, she filled the space with a tantalizing presence. The tinkling sound came from the anklets ringed with small golden bells that played peek-a-boo with the edge of the skirt as she walked.

Victoria widened her eyes to take in the fascinating illusion. The curves of the girl’s slender legs showed through the sheer harem skirts held tightly to her body by a satin girdle. Cut low in the front, the design framed her navel. The top, made of the same fabric as the girdle and fashioned like a small halter top, ended just below her breasts and left the long expanse to her navel bare. A pink silk turban rested on the woman’s head like a crown. White veils hung from the turban, draping down her back and over her face. Gold braiding trimmed the headpiece and ropes of pearls hung in scallops, with one scallop adorning the girl’s forehead.

The young model circled the room and then stopped a few feet in front of Victoria. The silence was so complete that Victoria could hear the panting rhythm of her own breath. Then Jessica exploded.

“Yes! Yes! Yes! Wow! It’s perfect for you, Victoria. You’ll knock all those stuffy socialites on their…well, you’ll knock them flat.”

Victoria was the one knocked flat. She stared at the girl and tried to picture herself in such a costume. A single vision trapped her consciousness and drew her farther and farther into its fictional web, deeper and deeper under its power. She couldn’t speak or move and, she could barely make out Jessica’s voice fading into oblivion.

A cloudy thickness obscured her vision. Upon clearing, she found she was wandering alone along a dimly lit corridor. Shivering from cold, she looked down to find herself dressed in a minuscule outfit more suited to a desert harem than a freezing steel and glass passageway. She didn’t know where she was or how she came to be dressed so. Nothing made sense except the need to keep moving forward.

The inner compulsion could only be described as a summons. It pulled her along as if she were leashed to an unalterable destiny. She followed the empty hallway like a sleepwalker until she approached a set of massive doors flanked by two men dressed in black robes. She stopped, not daring to move closer.

Before she could discern their intent, the two guardians stepped to the side, opening the wide doors as they went. What stepped toward her through the dark portal was every young girl’s fantasy lover, a charismatic desert prince. White flowing robes and a sash of scarlet satin enveloped his dominant masculinity. A white cloth banded with red braiding through which pure gold threads intertwined crowned his head. Sun-kissed skin radiated golden heat, and his smile blazed with supreme arrogance. She fixed her gaze on his face where eyes sparkling with possessive brilliance captured hers. Before she could even think to run, his unyielding arms lifted her high against his chest. With effortless strength, he carried her through the heavy doors and into the darkness beyond. Her ears rang with the sound of a woman’s scream.

“Victoria! Snap out of it! What is wrong with you? Who in the world is Rashid?”

Reality smashed through Victoria’s dreamy vision with a jolt. Her whole world was trembling, and no wonder. Jessica held a death grip on her arm and was shaking her like a rag doll.

“I’m fine, really, I’m fine.” She tried reassuring her friend. “My imagination just got the better of me for a moment.”

“I’ll say. You were in la-la land screaming at someone named Rashid to put you down.”

Victoria was appalled. Surely, she could not have screamed out his name. What did he have to do with harem girls and desert princes? Why did he keep violating her thoughts even in the light of the day?

“I’m fine, really, just overly tired. I think I need to go home. Jessica, if you don’t mind, would you pick a costume for me?”

Turning to Madam Soladar, she made her apologies and a quick exit. Maneuvering her car into traffic, she fought a surge of nausea as she jabbed at the air-conditioning controls. A blast of cool air washed across her face and she sucked in a deep, calming breath. Rashid, the name rang in her head. What was wrong with her? No matter how hard she tried to keep him out, he kept invading her space. Ten minutes…they had spent no more than ten minutes in the same room. This unconscious and unwanted awareness of him did not make sense. He was a stranger…a stranger she was learning to despise.

To be continued…

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