The Fan Letter (9 page)

“Leslie? I said to take a break, not take the afternoon off. Leslie?” her boss Mona repeated as she stuck her head into the lounge in the back of the boutique.

….
in February when he had gone all over town to find a yellow rose for….

Leslie's pen froze over the page and her head jerked up. She turned an unseeing face towards the voice that had interrupted her.

Mona looked a little surprised at the expression on Leslie's face. “What's wrong? You look like you're going to cry.”

Leslie blushed and put down her pen, her eyes coming back into focus. “Sorry, Mona. I had an idea for my story and wanted to get it down on paper before I forgot it. I'll be right out.”

Her boss leaned against the doorframe. “That's fine. You were so quiet I thought you had fallen asleep. You have been dragging lately,” she pointed out, not unkindly.

Leslie nodded as she folded up the paper and put it next to her purse. “I know. I've been staying up too late writing. My ideas are coming easily right now and once I get going, I forget to stop.”

“So, it is going well now? I heard you tell Janice that you were having some trouble.”

Leslie smiled as she stretched her back. “No, I'm coming right along. I'm jazzed about it
now
.”

Mona Green gave her a smug smile. Still preoccupied with the scene she had been formulating, Leslie missed the warning. “Good. Glad to hear you're in a good mood. The high school just called. It's retailing project time again. We can expect some students today or tomorrow.”

A loud groan was heard. “I got them last semester! It's Janice's turn. Or your's!”

Pushing off from the doorframe with a laugh, Mona told her, “Oh, but you do such a good job with the eager students. They're all yours.” The boss returned to her office, still laughing, as Leslie went back out front, rolling her eyes at Janice.

Le Petite Boutique was small but a well-stocked dress salon that catered mostly to the social circle. Every dress they sold had a full range of accessories available. Having a profile on all their regular customers, they could bring to their homes a display in the correct size to meet any occasion. There was a seamstress, Paula, in the store at all times. They even had an errand boy on call to rush to the wholesalers in San Francisco if they happened to be out of a desired item. Their clientele was growing and faithful. Customers were willing to pay a higher price for the quality of goods and services they received.

The boutique was on the first floor of a Victorian mansion that once belonged to the founding family of Amherst. Located in what was now the Old Downtown District, the entire ground floor had been refurbished to accommodate the shop, but Mona kept with the Victorian theme. A beautiful copper and crystal chandelier that had always hung in the entryway of the mansion now held light bulbs instead of flickering candles. The original dark walnut hardwood floors were covered here and there with pastel Oriental rugs in elaborate floral patterns. Victorian Queen Anne chairs that sat waiting for customers had lovely tapestry seats. Four large dressing rooms were draped with velvet panels held back with gold braided cords. Gourmet coffee in an antique silver decanter sat waiting on an etched tray with delicate Petit Fours on lace doilies to spoil the best of customers. Highly polished mahogany display cases showed off the jewelry, as well as the purses. An open armoire held scarves, hankies, and linen. Dresses, wraps, and lingerie hung in recessed, lighted nooks. Then there were the beveled, etched, and leaded Italian mirrors: the accent lights hung with prisms or tassels. The pastel oil paintings on the walls of the boutique were copies of Monet and Renoir in floral-edged gold leaf frames.

The second and third floors were the private living areas of Mona Green and her family. Her husband, Patrick, owned and operated a small local dealership, and their two pre-teen children, Mike and Mary, attended school nearby.

It was in this surrounding that Wayne Fields first met the Evil One of Amherst. Within the first two days of his moving into the conveniently empty apartment directly below hers, he had learned much of her schedule and some of her habits. He had followed her to work the first day and entered her apartment the second. Now he was curious.

He entered the boutique and was momentarily taken aback. The size of the city with its two hundred thousand residents had already surprised him, but this shop was incredible. He could hear the soft strains of classical music playing lightly in the background and almost expected a maid to ask for his calling card! Instead, four well-dressed women glanced up from their various tasks of rearranging, dusting and ordering garments. He recognized Leslie immediately from the pictures he had seen with her curly brown hair, trim figure and friendly smile. After her first glance at the newcomer, however, she went back to organizing the armoire she had already dusted.

A tall, attractive redhead dressed in a fashionable white suit approached as he now self-consciously advanced further into the shop. He had been expecting the usual racks of dresses behind which he could stall and observe.

“May I be of assistance?” Janice asked, silently wondering why in the world this man was in their shop looking as if he wanted to disappear into a crack.

“Yes, I was…I mean…,” he stammered as he searched for the excuse he had planned on using. The redhead was very pretty. “I wanted to find a present for my mother. I'm new in town and wasn't sure where to find something for her.”
Yeah, that sounded good
, he thought, refraining from wiping his forehead.
Steady, man, you know what you're doing
.

Janice was now sorry she had rushed forward. She had liked the way his hair fell messily over his forehead. Her first reaction was to want to push it back with her fingertips. But, his eyes seemed to be returning to Leslie…. “All right. Did you have anything particular in mind?” she hoped, backing off and getting down to business.

“No. Maybe a nice dress,” was the vague reply.
That should allow me plenty of time to observe
.

“Do you know what size she wears?”

Wayne looked her over and then Leslie. “Somewhere around the size of you two.”

Leslie, a petite size six, bit her lip as she glanced at Mona who hurried to her office. Janice, a tall size ten, tried another approach.

“Well, maybe a nice scarf or some jewelry would do as well. That way we wouldn't have to worry about sizes.”

That was fine with Wayne as it took him over to where Leslie was busy working. He saw the amusement in her eyes as she stood back. He pretended to study her face which immediately made her blush and become nervous.

“I've seen you somewhere before,” he stated before she could bolt and retreat.

“I'm sorry. I don't recall.” She was torn between being polite to this customer and getting away from his intense, rude stare.

Wayne looked like he was thinking hard. “I know! Don't you live in the Brighton Apartments? That's where I've seen you. I'm your new neighbor, Wayne Fields. I just moved in below you.”

Leslie looked relieved. She didn't like conversations that started that way. “Oh, really? I didn't even know someone had moved in. Shows how much I pay attention,” she replied, giving a small self-conscious laugh and then falling silent.

“I'm Wayne Fields,” he repeated, making it obvious he wanted formal introductions.

When her friend remained silent and blushed again, Janice turned to the armoire and pretended to look through the scarves, intentionally bumping Leslie in the process. She got the point. “I…I'm Leslie. This is my friend Janice.”

“Good to meet both of you. I hate being the new one in town!” Wayne said with a self-deprecating grin that, on a handsome man, would have been charming. It just made him look self-conscious. He added as if an afterthought, “You know, you're pretty quiet yourself. It's like I don't even have neighbors in that complex.”

Now that they had talked a little longer, Leslie felt more at ease and her eyes gave a mischievous twinkle. “That's because I haven't given my weekly mambo party!” Her attention was suddenly drawn to the front door, her smile froze on her face, and an almost inaudible, “Oh, goody,” was heard.

Three giggly high school girls armed with notebooks and pink feathered pens entered. They attempted to straighten their faces and become sophisticated, but failed in a chorus of nervous giggles.

Leslie muttered to Janice, “Muffy, Buffy and Fluffy are here. No. No. Let me get them. I insist,” as she left to do her inflicted duty.

Janice hid her mouth with her hand and saw Mona grinning off to the side. Wayne was forgotten for the moment as they all watched and listened. He didn't mind because buying a scarf wouldn't have taken very long and he wanted to stay and observe his target in her natural surroundings.

Leslie fixed her smile. “Ladies?” she said in a way that would cut butter. “May I help you?”

The one pushed forward first became the spokesperson for the trio. “Um, like, see? We didn't want to buy anything. Like, we're from Amherst High, you know? And, see, we're doing this project, like, in retailing, you know, and wondered if we could, umm, ask a few questions. ‘Kay?” she finished brightly as the other nodded in agreement.

“‘Kay,” Leslie responded just as brightly. “Like, what did you, like, want to know?”

“Okay, like, okay. What's your most expensive item?” Buffy asked looking around eagerly as the other two held their pens ready to write.

That was always the first question. “If you'll come here, like, I'll show you.” Leslie shot a glance back to Mona who, in turn, pulled the corners of her mouth into a smile. Leslie batted her eyes at her boss and gave a rather silly smile. She dropped it before turning back to the girls.

Janice's shoulders were shaking at her friend's antics and she had to turn away. She then remembered the customer, Wayne Something. “Oh! I'm sorry. You wanted a scarf or some other thing?”

Wayne's eyes still followed Leslie. “What's the show about?” he quietly asked, indicating the girls with his chin.

“Every semester the seniors in the retail management classes are sent out to talk to shop owners about their businesses. It's like a term paper,” she explained and then shook her head with a smile. “The ones who come here usually just want to see the ‘neat stuff’ as they call it.”

Wayne indicated Leslie. “She's the owner, then?”

“Oh, no. That would be Mona Green, back there by the piano. Leslie is the senior clerk. We all know how much she enjoys these interviews,” Janice grinned wickedly.

“I can tell…. I'll take this scarf,” he said, picking up the closest one. “Do you have gift wrap?”

They moved over to the cash register which brought them closer to Leslie. She was holding up a beautiful black velvet evening dress appliquéd with gold and silver beads.

“This lovely creation is $4,500,” she told the gaping girls.

They all wrote down $4,500 in their notebooks and added three exclamation points.

Muffy asked, “So, like, how much would it have cost wholesale?”

“A little less,” was her reply as they wrote down ‘a little less.’ “The beadwork is hand sewn and the velvet is imported from France. We captured some runaway grandmothers to sew the beads on. We keep them in the cellar.”

“Can we see them?” Fluffy asked eagerly.

“No.”

““Kay, like, what do you call these little, you know, these little buttons that you can't get off?” Buffy took over the interview again, indicating the security tag attached to the label inside the gown.

Leslie fought to keep her face straight. “That would be a Detonating Untheft Monitoring Instrument, or a D. U. M. I,” she spelled, “as it is known in the business.”

“How do you spell that?”

Leslie slowly repeated, “D. U. M. I.”

Paula and Mona were nowhere to be seen.

“Like, where do you get all this neat stuff?”

“We have wholesalers in San Francisco, and contacts in New York and Paris.”

Buffy wrote that under her D. U. M. I. and wondered if this place ever had clearance sales.

The others could see Leslie visibly cringe at the thought. She answered slowly, “No. You see, nothing here really goes out of style. That's one of the keys to good buying.”

The girls wrote down “No” and asked what the cheapest thing in the store was.

Probably your earrings
, Leslie thought, but answered, “Some of the lingerie begins around twenty dollars.”

“Oooh!” Fluffy squealed. “Twenty dollars just for underwear?”

“We don't carry underwear. That would be a satin camisole.” Leslie gave the returning Mona a glazed look that the owner knew meant “Get me out of this
now
!”

The girls closed their notebooks and headed back to the dresses. As one of the girls reached for a shimmering pink gown, Leslie warned, “No, no. Don't touch. Hand oil on silk doesn't come off.”

“You touched them,” Muffy obstinately pointed out.

Leslie held up her hands for them to see. “My hands are specially treated.”

“Oooh! Cool!”

“Any other questions, answers, comments, observations, queries, statements?” as Leslie herded them towards the door.

“No, like, that's all, I'm sure,” Buffy replied, still cheerful. “Thanks ever so much. Do you carry prom dresses?”

Leslie's smile froze again. “Oh, sorry, no. We don't have the room. Nuts.”

“Bummer! Maybe, if, like, you got rid of that old piano you could in a neat circle rack,” Muffy offered, pointing at the baby grand.

“I'll mention it to the owner. Thanks for coming. Bye, bye,” as she closed the door and turned to face her co-workers. “Not one word,” she warned as she walked past them and into the lounge where she put her head on the table.

All of the other women stood outside the door and shrilly shrieked, “Oooooooooh!” before they returned to their duties.

Wayne had sat unnoticed by the armoire throughout all this. He had already paid for the silk scarf he had no use for and had it wrapped. Now he arose and left, likewise unnoticed. He tossed the carefully wrapped package into his trunk and decided he wanted another look at Leslie's apartment tomorrow. It was too close to closing time to carry this out tonight.