Chapter 13-2
1086 Words
“Do I hafta?”
Bill tugged on Jaspar’s tie. Even using a clip-on, the kid somehow was wearing it crooked.
“Hey, it’s a nice restaurant and the girls are probably going to look sharp.” Tammy had been consistently going to Perrin’s after school when she wasn’t needed for a rehearsal. But Perrin had promised him that Tammy wasn’t allowed to sew until after her homework was done. He’d been checking up on her homework, as he always did, but Perrin had been as good as her word. Jaspar appeared to be enjoying the exclusive Dad time, even if that often just meant reading a book while Bill worked.
“Girls!” Jaspar scoffed.
“Look here, Jaspar. If I have to wear a tie, so do you.”
Jaspar stuck his tongue out at Bill, but moved to the bathroom mirror and adjusted it himself until it was close enough. He’d inherited Bill’s curling hair rather than his mother’s flowing locks that had gone to Tammy. A quick brush did little to help, especially as he was a past due for a haircut.
Bill was really trying not to be nervous. He’d seen Perrin only briefly as he’d picked up Tammy a few times. A couple late night phone calls did little to slake his desperate desire to see the woman.
To distract himself as they drove to the restaurant, he asked Jaspar to teach him the new Italian words he’d learned. Carlo di Stefano had, once he calmed down from his girlfriend Melanie’s departure, sort of adopted Jaspar. Already the kid had more Italian than Bill had picked up over years of dealing with singers. Carlo had wisely started with cat, dog, elephant, and the like. Then he’d moved on to giovane principe, “Young Prince,” and the other titles in the cast. Now they were ranging off into everyday life vocabulary.
While Bill appreciated it, he also cursed that now he’d have something new he had to keep up with to encourage and support his kid as if he weren’t already juggling enough. Next year Jaspar could start a language in sixth grade and Italian was presently the favored option. Spanish Bill could keep up with from living in California and working with Mexican stage hands. French he’d at least have a head start because that had been Tammy’s selection. But Italian? And ten years old, headed for sixth grade… Life was moving too fast. It had to slow down at some point, didn’t it?
He parked and they walked down to the restaurant where Perrin had said she’d meet them.
“Hey look, there’s another one!”
The walk sign on the corner had one of the Ascension yarn-bomb banners climbing its pole.
Angelo or Russell… Russell, Bill decided. He was the marketing brains, Angelo was the cook. He must have asked… who? Patsy? Well, that would explain the need for a knitting machine. But it didn’t just feel like Patsy and her knitting g**g.
It wasn’t just some slap up of Perrin’s designs, the yarn-bomb itself was a designed piece. Perrin, it had to be. So, Perrin had designed a couple yarn-bombs to promote the opera. That was really decent of her. Definitely above and beyond the scope of the contract. And, like the costumes, the yarn-bomb was quite attractive. A tourist stopped to photograph it with his wife standing beside it smiling.
When they entered Angelo’s, Bill was taken back to his life with Adira. In the beginning they could afford one date a month out together. They’d started at the local pub with a brew and a burger. Actually in the very beginning there’d been months where Kentucky Fried Chicken had been a splurge. But over the years they’d slowly climbed up. A good Mexican restaurant, a steak house, a nice little bistro. By the time the kids came along, “date night” had become a monthly tradition. Their last dinner out had been a massive splurge at the Allegro Romano on San Francisco’s Russian Hill, just a week before she was killed.
The rich scents of fine Italian food were a slap to the face that momentarily overwhelmed him with all he’d lost. It was too much. Too fresh. Four years of dealing with it, of telling himself the next day would be better, of putting on the good face for the kids, and here it all was as immediate as yesterday and as harsh as forever.
Air. He needed air. He turned back for the door as it swung open. Out of the evening light, a vision came toward him. Perrin had somehow walked the line between dressing for him and for his children. She wore a simple evening gown of bright red. Thin straps curving behind her neck and exposing bare shoulders told him that the dress was probably backless beneath the light shawl that had slipped down to hang by her elbows. All of her sleek form was traced, enhanced by the simple lines of the dress. Elbow-long gloves of the same material only enhanced the image. It covered, but it promised.
During their one night together, he’d done his best to memorize every one of her gentle curves. Her gown invited him to appreciate them anew.
Then he focused on the woman who had arrived holding Perrin’s hand.
Woman?!
“Tammy?”
She managed a curtsey then a brilliant smile that she shared with Perrin. Her dress, rather than the knockout statement of bright red, was as dark and dusky as her hair. It followed the lines of Perrin’s, obviously the dresses had been designed to complement each other, but it was far more demure. Where Perrin’s elegantly revealed, Tammy’s dress modestly suggested.
He knew Tammy had a figure, he’d helped her buy her first training b*a for crying out loud, an incredibly embarrassing moment for both of them, though he’d done his best not to let on. But without him noticing, she’d started growing into her mother’s beautiful figure. The dress followed her lines, which made her pretty rather than enticing. Instead of the bare shoulder-backless look that Perrin wore, it was actually as high-necked as a turtleneck. A simple silver chain an accent to the deep red material that covered her so chastely. And it wasn’t merely dressing up a child in a fancy dress, she wore it as a woman would, fully aware of her own impact upon those around her.
“It’s the Princess-to-be,” he still had trouble equating this growing girl with his own daughter. “Tammy, you’re gorgeous.”
Her glowing smile and bright giggle did nothing to destroy the image.
He wrapped her into a hug, which she returned more strongly than she had in a couple of years.
He mouthed a, “Thank you” to Perrin over his daughter’s head.
Perrin reached out a gloved finger and brushed it along his cheek.
“So,” Perrin broke the tableau and looked at Jaspar. “Are you too busy being incredibly handsome or would you be willing to escort me into dinner?”
- Writer
