A Model Moment

She stood there watching as the evening unfurled, a solitary figure in a room filled with people from the fashion and business world.  She was there by invitation from her friend, a fashion photographer.  She felt so out of place.  She wasn’t used to be around such glamorous people.  Several people thought she was a model.  A few photographers snapped her photo, much to her chagrin.  It reminded her of the time when she had to recite a poem in front of her classmates.  She managed to get through it but it was nerve-racking.

She wasn’t one for socializing and at the first opportunity, she slipped out and escaped to the brightly lit garden.  It was a beautiful evening.  A slight breeze blew, gently rustling the trees.  It was early summer when the weather was comfortable.

She had no idea of how long she would stay outside but for now it was where she felt most comfortable.  She slowly walked along the path, her gaze sweeping over the sprawling grounds and in the background, she could hear peals of laughter and the clinking of glasses. She paused at the rose bush.  Unable to resist, she leaned over and breathed in the sweet fragrance.

“Good evening.”

The voice startled her and she swung round.  A tall figure approached her.  As he drew nearer, she recognized him from the photos her friend had taken and which were featured in the Spring issue of GQ.  Her heart began to beat fast and she wondered what she could say to him.  “Good evening,” she replied.

He smiled as he held out his hand.  “Adrian Barlow.”

She shook his hand.  “Simone Jackson.”

“I see you had the same idea,” he remarked.  “Getting away from the crowd, I mean.”

“Yes,” she looked away, feeling self-conscious because of his penetrating stare.

“I hope you don’t mind me joining you, Simone.”

She shook her head.  “No, I don’t mind.”

“Shall we take a walk?”

She nodded.  And they walked along the path.

“Are you a model?” he asked.

She shook her head.  “No.  I’m the Assistant Art Director of a children’s publisher.”

“Do you like what you do?”

“Yes.  I like my job very much.  As a child, I loved to read.  I still do.  I know that you are a model.  I have seen you photos in GQ.  Do you like modelling?”

He shrugged.  “It’s something I do when I am not too busy.  I don’t see myself doing it for much longer.  I have my own business which I enjoy running.”

“You know my friend, Erin.  She’s the reason why I am here tonight.”

“I saw when you arrived and watched you all evening, waiting for an opportunity to speak to you.  I saw you slip out and followed.  You really are quite beautiful, you know.”

She didn’t know what to say.  It wasn’t often that she had a gorgeous man tell her that she was beautiful.  They had come upon a fountain.  There was a bench nearby and she went toward it.  She sat down and he sat beside her, turning so that he was facing her.

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you just now,” he said.   “Surely I’m not the first man to pay you such a compliment.”

“No, you aren’t the first but you have been around so many beautiful women.”

“Yes, I have,” he acknowledged.  “But none of them hold a candle to you.  Have dinner with me tomorrow evening, Simone.”

She stared at him and saw that he was very serious.  His amazing eyes were unwavering as they met her startled ones.  “Dinner with you,” she repeated, somewhat dazed.  This moment was almost surreal.

“Yes, unless you have other plans.”

“No, no.  I don’t have any other plans.”

“Then, you will have dinner with me?”

“Yes.”

She gave him her address which he scribbled on the back of a business card and placed in his breast pocket.

They sat there a while longer, talking.  She found herself becoming very relaxed with him and opening up.  Then they heard the sound of cars leaving and realized that it was time to go.  Reluctantly, she got up from the bench.  “Do you have a ride home?” he asked.

“Yes, I will get a ride with Erin.”

They headed back to the mansion and stopped at the foot of the steps where they were to part company.  “I’ll pick you up at seven tomorrow,” he told her before he took her hand and raised it to his lips.  His eyes held her as he kissed it.  Her heart was pounding and her skin tingled. “Good night, Simone,” he said softly when he raised his head.

“Good night, Adrian.”

He released her hand and walked away.  Just then Erin joined her.  “I was wondering where you had gone off to,” she said, watching Adrian go.  “I see that you were in good company.”

Simone smiled.  “Thanks for inviting me tonight, Erin.  I had a wonderful time.”

“I can see that,” her friend teased before she took her arm and they headed to her car.

Source:  The Guardian Jobs

Papa Joe

August 12, 1952.  It was a date she would never forget.  It was the day she buried the man who had been a father to her for over twenty years.  It seemed so surreal.  Papa Joe was gone.  She stood there alone in her grief, shivering although it was a hot and muggy day.

She stared at the ground where Papa Joe lay.  The tears rolled down her cheeks as she cradled his worn Bible, remembering how he used to read it to her when she was a child. When her parents had died he took her in and raised her as his own. She had grown to love the old man as if he were her very own blood.  Many of the townspeople had a problem with the widower raising a black girl and didn’t hide their displeasure but Papa Joe ignored them.  His business began to suffer.  Papa Joe was a tailor.  He knew that business would pick up again if he got rid of Cassandra but he refused to do so.  Even if he went bankrupt, he would never part with her.  He vowed that only death would separate them.

It was Papa Joe whom she shared her dreams with.  It was Papa Joe who comforted her when she went home crying because of the racial slurs and taunts.  Papa Joe was the only one who knew that she loved a man she had no right to love.  She had known Dr. Baker since she was a child.  He used to stop by and see Papa Joe.   He was always kind to her and brought her treats.  As she grew older, the visits became more frequent.  Papa Joe was no fool.  He could see that feelings were developing between them and he warned her, “You and the doctor have to be careful, Cassie.  This town will not take kindly to a relationship between a black girl and a white man.”

One night when Dr. Baker visited, Papa Joe excused himself and went to his room.  As soon as they were alone, the doctor took Cassandra into his arms and kissed her.  “I have wanted to do that all day,” he whispered when he raised his head to gaze down into her face.  “I know that there is a considerable age difference between us but I love you, Cassandra.  I tried to stay away when I realized that I had fallen in love with you but I couldn’t.  I had to see you.”

“I love you too.”

“I’m leaving for Paris in three weeks and I would like you to come with me.”

“Paris?” she exclaimed.  “Why there?”

“I have always wanted to go there and set up a practice.  My mother was French and your family was from Haiti.  So the language won’t be a barrier for us.”

“I can’t go to Paris with you, Robert.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t leave Papa Joe.  He has been so good to me.”

“Joe would want you to be happy and you won’t be as long as you remain in this town.”

“I can’t be happy knowing that he is here all alone.”  She could see the distress on Robert’s face and she reached up and touched his face.  “I love you for wanting to take me away with you, but I can’t.  I hope you understand.”

“I do,” he sighed.  “Well, I better be going.  Please say goodnight to Joe for me.”  They kissed and then she walked with him to the door.

“Goodbye, Cassandra.  Write me and let me know how you are doing.”  He gave her a piece of paper with an address on it.  She took it.  After a lingering look, he was gone–perhaps out of her life for good.

That was three months ago.  They had exchanged letters since and when Papa Joe died, she had written and told Robert.  She stood now at the grave, the tears falling.  Papa Joe had left the house to her and all the money he earned from his tailoring.  She had the money locked away in a box.  She didn’t want to go back to the empty house.

She had no idea of how long she stood there but the biting cold prompted her to start making her way back to the house.  She had just reached the front porch when she saw a car pull up and Robert got out.  He walked over to her and taking her arm he led her up the steps.  “I’m sorry I didn’t make it on time for the funeral,” he apologized as she unlocked the door and they went inside.

Once inside and the door was shut, she threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly.  She sobbed, letting out the pent up grief that had closed around her heart like a fist.  Robert stood there, holding her until the sobs subsided and then ceased.

When she was spent from all that crying, Robert took her over to the sofa and sat her down.  “Joe wrote me this note,” he said, handing it to her.  “I think you should read it.”

She wiped away the tears before she reached for the note.  Frowning, she slowly unfolded the paper and read it.  Dear Robert, I know that you love my Cassie and that you wanted to take her away from this cursed place.  If I know my dear girl she will not want to leave me.  She feels a sense of obligation to stay and take care of me as I have taken care of her all these years.  I don’t want to be a burden to her.  She is young and deserves to live her life.  There’s no future for her here.  I know that she loves you and that it broke her heart to be separated from you.  She thought I wasn’t aware, but I could see the unhappiness in her sweet face and I could hear her crying in the night.  She had sacrificed her chance for happiness for me.  I haven’t told her but I don’t have much longer to live.  When I pass on, which should be any time soon, please come and take Cassie away from here.  Take her to Paris where you and she will be free to love each other.  She can use the money from the sale of the house to pay for her fare.  I am sorry that I won’t be there for your wedding but know that I wish you both all the happiness in the world.  Please take good care of my precious girl.

Yours sincerely,

Joe

Fresh tears fell.  “I had no idea that he was dying.  He was tired more but I just thought that it was to do with age.  I am thankful that I was here for him.”

“Now, you can get on with your life.  We have his blessing.  Let me take you to Paris.”  He reached out and took her hands in his.  “Cassandra, I want to marry you.  Let me take you to Paris.”

She nodded.  “I will go to Paris with you,” she said.  Her life here was over.  There was nothing to keep her here.  Her future was with Robert now.  She would sell this house filled with so many wonderful memories and leave this town which had been the source of her unhappiness.  Yes, she will go to Paris and marry the man she loved.

 

crying african american woman in the 1950s

The Dinner Invitation

He resisted the urge to bury his face in her hair and…  Sharon stopped typing and stared at the laptop screen.  She was tired and the thoughts were not coming as they should. Her mind was not on the story she was writing.  She was thinking about Jason.  

This afternoon when she walked into the reception and Lauren greeted her with, “Good afternoon, Susan.  Please let Jason know that I’m here,” she had to grit her teeth to stifle the angry retort that rose to her lips.  Plastering a smile on her face, she said for the umpteenth time, “It’s Sharon.  And, I will let Mr. Armani know that you are here.”  She got up from her desk, grabbed the folder with papers she needed him to sign and walked away.

She fumed as she headed to her boss’s office.  How she detested Lauren Forbes.  She was a beautiful, statuesque and glamorous woman with thick, bouncy strawberry blonde hair.  Sharon felt plain and ordinary compared to her.  She saw the admiring glances that her male co-workers cast at Lauren who seemed oblivious–perhaps because she was so used to the attention.

Jason was sitting at his desk, typing something when she knocked on the door.  “Come in,” he called without looking up.

Sharon went in and closed the door behind her.  “Lauren Forbes is here,” she announced dryly.

He looked up then.  “What’s the matter?” he asked, his eyes searching her face.

“Nothing,” she said, busying herself with the papers in the folder.

“I know you, Sharon.  You’re upset about something.  What is it?” he insisted.  She had his full attention now.

She paused to look at him.  “I can’t stand the woman,” she admitted.  “She gets on my nerves.”

His lips twitched.  “You really shouldn’t let Lauren get to you like this,” he advised.

“I don’t know—” her voice trailed off.  She had been about to say, “I don’t know what you see in her.”   Really flustered now, she stepped back from the desk.  “I will send her right in.”  And she was out of the office before he could say anything else.

“You may go straight in,” she told Lauren who gave her a rather disdainful look before sauntering off.  For the rest of the afternoon Sharon was in a bad mood.

Now she sat in front of her laptop, staring at the screen, unable to concentrate.  What on earth did he see in her?  She seemed so shallow.  He could do so much better.  

The sound of the doorbell startled her.  She glanced at the time on the laptop.  It was seven.  Who could be stopping by now?

She got up and went to the door.  She looked through the keyhole and her eyes nearly popped out of her head.  It was her boss.  What was he doing here?  She drew back from the door, agitated.  She wished he had called to warn her that he would be dropping by. She was in her dressing-gown and her hair was pulled by in a not so flattering hairstyle. She couldn’t keep him standing out there while she changed.  She had no choice.  Taking a deep breath, she unlocked the door and opened it.

She saw his eyes travel over her and she shifted self-consciously from one foot to the other.  “I wasn’t expecting anyone,” she told him.  Least of all you.   He looked so fine in his charcoal grey suit and black shirt with a matching black and grey tie.  He looked like he just walked off the pages of GQ.  She could feel her pulse racing and she hoped she didn’t look as nervous as she felt.

“I apologize for dropping by unexpectedly,” he said.  His eyes seemed to linger on her face which was beginning to feel hot.  “May I come in?”

“Yes, sorry.” She stepped aside and she caught a whiff of his cologne as he passed her.  She closed the door and leaned against it for a moment.  Her heart was beating really fast now.  “Was there something you needed me to take care of?” she asked.  Why was he here?

He looked around the unit and then turned to face her.  “Very nice place you have here,” he commented.

“Thank you.”  He looked really, really good.  She hoped she wasn’t staring.

“This is not a business call,” he told her.

“Oh.” was all she could say.  He was obviously going somewhere.  Perhaps he and Lauren were going out for dinner and for some reason he decided to stop by here before…

“Have dinner with me.”

Stunned, she blurted, “Pardon me?”

“I wanted to ask you to have dinner with me tonight this afternoon when you came to my office but you left before I could.”

“You want me to have dinner with you?”

“Yes, that’s why I am here.”

“But I thought that you and Lauren—”

“What did you think about Lauren and me?”

“I thought you and she were going out.”

“It’s strictly business between Lauren and me.  Besides, she’s not my type.”

“What is your type?” the question was out before she could prevent it.

He smiled.  “I will tell you over dinner.”  He glanced at his watch.  “I made reservations for eight.  You had better get ready now.  I will wait over here.”  He turned and was walking over to the table where her laptop was.  She hurried past him and closed the top. The last thing she wanted was for him to see her poor attempt at writing a romance.  He didn’t say anything but sat down.

“I won’t be long,” she promised, all the while wondering what she was going to wear.

Thank goodness she had had a shower around six-thirty.  She rushed to her bedroom and closed the door.  After frantically searching through her walk-in closet, she seized the black dress she had bought just recently.  She hadn’t worn it as yet.  Well, it was about to make its debut.  She got dressed and tried to fix her hair as best as she could.  She was not a make-up person.  A flattering shade of lip gloss was all she needed.  After a quick once over in the mirror, she slipped her feet into a pair of pumps and grabbed her clutch purse.

When she walked into the living-room, Jason’s eyes traveled slowly over her, obviously liking what he saw.  “You look amazing,” he said.  He stood up.

She smiled.  “Thank you.”  As they walked to the door, she was aware of him and that his eyes were on her.  She still couldn’t believe that this was happening.  She had planned a quiet evening, working on her story.  Never did she expect Jason Armani to show up at her door and invite her out for dinner.  This was going to be some evening.

 

Letter From the Suitor

She walked into the library and was startled to find him sitting at her father’s desk, writing what appeared to be a letter.  He rose immediately to his feet when he saw her and bowed.  “Miss Hampton.”

She returned his greeting in the manner of women, her face a little flushed.  She hoped he would think it had to do with her walk.  “Mr. Read.”

He put down the quill pen, folded the sheet of paper, slipped it into an envelope and handed it to her.  “Please do me the honor of reading my letter, Miss Hampton.  I will not take up any more of your time.  I bid you farewell.”  And he was out of the room before she had even said anything.

She went to the window and looked out to see him untether his horse and then mount it.  He was off and she watched until she could see him no longer.   She looked at the envelope with her name written neatly on it, anxious to read the letter enclosed.

“I heard you come back from your walk, Miss Ellen and thought I would bring you some tea and fresh scones.”  Bessie bustled into the room, carrying a tray which she set on the table.  Ellen’s mouth watered as she smelled the freshly baked scones.  She slipped the letter into her pocket.

“Where’s everyone?” Ellen asked.

“Mr. Turner went out on business.  Mrs. Turner, Misses Grace and Mary went to visit Mrs. Blakely.  They all should be back later this afternoon.”

“When I came in a few moments ago, I was surprised to see Mr. Read here.”

“Oh yes, Miss.  He came by to see Mr. Turner.  They were in the library for a while and then Mr. Turner left for his business.  Mr.  Read stayed to finish writing a letter.”

Ellen’s fingers closed over the letter.  “Thank you, Bessie.”  She wanted to be alone to read the letter.  Bessie left, closing the door behind her.

Ellen drew a chair over to the window and sat down.  She took the letter out of her pocket.  Her heart began to pound as she removed it from the envelope and unfolded the note.

My dear Miss Hampton:

I hope that this letter finds you well and that you will not think me impertinent for having penned it.  It is by the counsel of your cousin and my dear friend, Roger Wentworth that I have resorted to writing you this letter in which I hope to express my interest in you which I must confess has been hard for me to communicate in person.  

Nothing but the noblest of sentiment would prompt me to intrude upon the notice of a young lady under such circumstances.  An interest in you has captured my heart and no effort on my part could free it.  I hope that you will have pity on me and receive me as a suitor. 

The purpose of this letter is to ask your permission to pay you friendly visits with the hope that closer ties will develop between us.  I do not request an answer in writing although if you choose to accord me one, I shall be very flattered.  I will do the honor of calling upon you on Friday evening, on which occasion I hope for a very happy outcome.  Yours with much regard,

James Read

Ellen stared at the words on the page, hardly able to believe it.  Mr. Read wanted to be her suitor.  During those times they saw each other, she never imagined that he harbored any interest in her.  He had hidden it remarkably well.

She read and re-read the letter.  Her heart was pounding again.  She got up from the chair and went over to the desk.  She sat down and taking a sheet of paper from the drawer, she took up the quill pen and wrote:

Monday Morning

Mr. Read:

Dear Sir: I read your letter.  Thank you for writing with such candor. I shall be happy to see you on Friday evening and whenever you are pleased to call on me I shall make you feel quite welcome. Truly yours,

Ellen Hampton

She slipped it into an envelope and sealed it.  She slipped out and went to the post.  Mr. Read will have his answer before Friday evening.

 

victorian woman looking out of the window

Sources:  oocitiesSusanna Ives

The Deception

“A letter for you, Miss,” Fanny announced as she handed the envelope to Clara.

Clara took it and frowned when she saw the name on it.  Why did he write me?  Why did he not come instead?  “Thank you, Fanny.” As soon as the young maid was gone, she ripped open the envelope and unfolded the letter, her fingers trembling with excitement.

As she read the contents, her face turned ashen.  The sheet shook in her hand and she gripped the chair with her other hand.   The letter read:

Dear Clara,

I hope you are well.  I am still in London taking care of the business matters for which my Aunt asked me to attend to.  I don’t quite know how to say this but my affections have long been engaged elsewhere.  Lady Agatha and I are to be married upon my return to Devonshire.  If I have given you reason to believe that my feelings for you were more than brotherly affection, please forgive me.  I will always remember you with fondness and felicity.

Your friend,

Raymond

She collapsed into the chair as her legs gave way under her.  He never loved her.  That was what he said.  He had been in love with Lady Agatha all this time.  Not once did she ever suspect that his feelings were engaged elsewhere.  He had always been so attentive to her and she could not have imagined the tenderness which she had seen in his features.   Had it all been an illusion?  Had she imagined that he loved her?

She dissolved into tears, her heart breaking.  How could she had been such a fool?  She had given her heart to a man who had given his to another.  How was she going to face her family and friends?  They too were under the impression that Raymond and she were soon to announce their engagement based on the warm and affectionate sentiments they had expressed toward each other.  It had all be a lie–on his part.  She had been deceived.

Pain gave way to seething anger.  She crumbled the letter and getting up, she rushed over to the fireplace and threw it on the fire.  She watched it burn.  Oh, how she hated him.  The love she had once felt for him had now turned to hate.  She never wanted to see him again.

It took Clara several years to get over Raymond.  During that time she was frequently in the company of an older gentleman whose devotion she grew to appreciate.  Eventually, they got married and Clara grew to love him dearly.  She never saw Raymond again.  He and Lady Agatha moved to France.  She no longer bore any ill-feelings toward the man she had once loved.  She wished him well.

 

victorian woman grips chair as she reads letter

Lily

Although Lily was small in stature,

Ordinary and poor, she did radiate

Confidence and faith that she

Was the perfect choice for the

Job of governess.  Like her heroine

Jane Eyre she was not to going to

Be Intimidated by Mr. Thornber.

 

He may be big, boisterous and brusque

But she could match his demeanour

With sense and not sensibility.  She

Could let wisdom be her teacher

And guide in how to deal with an

Imposing man like her employer.

 

She would treat him with the utmost

respect and not do anything to cause

friction or disagreement between them.

She was there to be governess to his niece

Not to be his friend or companion.  It was

Strictly business between them and was

Likely to remain that way.  After all, it was

Foolish to think that he would ever look

Upon her with a romantic interest.

Besides, he was the steady companion

Of the beautiful Kate Renshaw.  Oh yes,

She was beautiful and rich.  She was an

Accomplished piano player and singer.

She was everything Lily was not.

 

Lily sighed and set aside her book.

She got up and walked over to the

Fireplace.   “I should be thankful,”

She mused as she watched the flickering

Flames burn the embers.  “I have a job I

Love, a pupil I adore and I have my faith.

Yet…I feel that I should go mad if I have to

endure one more night without seeing him.”

 

She didn’t know what it was that alerted her

That someone else was in the room.  She

Turned around and her heart leapt to her

Throat when she saw the tall and familiar

Figure of Mr. Thornber.

 

JaneEyre.crop_324x243_0,0.preview

 

Promotion

She got the news that morning and as soon as she got

back to her desk, she texted her boyfriend, Rob.  “I just

got promoted to Managing Editor.  They absolutely

loved the profile I did on Rosalind Spencer, the famous Haute

Couture designer who recently launched her new cosmetic line.

Let’s go out and celebrate tonight.  Pick me up at 7:45”

 

She could barely get through the rest of the day because she

was so excited.   When five o’ clock finally rolled around, she

packed her things in large plastic boxes and labelled them as

well as her phone and monitor for the move.  By the time she

was done it was after six.  She rushed out of the building and

almost sprinted to the subway.  She wanted to get home by seven

because she had to get ready for her dinner date with Rob.

 

The train pulled into the station just as she reached the bottom

of the stairs.  She headed straight for a seat next to the door

because she wanted to make a quick exit.  As train pulled away

from the platform, she began think about how she had gotten

where she was now.  Writing had been her passion since she was

10 years old.  It was born out of her love for reading.  She was always

writing about something or someone so it was a no brainer that

she would go to Boston University it offered great variety of journalism

programs.

 

During the summer, she went to New York where she did an internship

at Modèn Magazine and loved it.  A year later after her graduation

she got an entry job at the company.   She worked hard, pouring her

heart into her writing and churning out article after article, while

learning the ins and outs of the business.  She hadn’t expected  her

writing to catapult her into this new position so soon.

 

She was to start her new position on Monday.  Her heart skipped

a beat as excitement and nervousness filled her.  She went over

in her mind what her responsibilities would be.  She was going to

supervise the day to day operations of the magazine and report

to Jennifer, the editor in chief who had given her this position.

 

“I can do this,” she told herself, quickly squashing the doubts that

surfaced.  She was going to bring to this new job her experience as the

Women’s Ministry leader at her church.  She already had ideas which

she would run by the team she was going to work with.   She whipped

out her notebook and quickly jotted them down while they were

fresh in her mind.   She was so caught up in what she was doing that she

almost missed her stop.

 

“I’ll do some more brainstorming over the weekend,” she decided as she

hurried down the sidewalk to her building.  “Tonight, I just want to

celebrate with Rob over a delicious Pasta dish.”

 

woman writing on train

 

Sources:  Study.com; Work Chron; College USA Today