Lucky by F. E. Bradley

Author:F. E. Bradley [Bradley, F. E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781730934834
Published: 2019-03-27T05:00:00+00:00

Ellie,

I will not be in class today as I have some errands that need attention. I hope to see you tomorrow for lunch.

-Dorian

Not seeing Dorian has put me in a sour mood, and when I arrive home after school, I don’t feel much like talking. There is a black foreign car in the driveway when I pull in and I assume that it must be a salesman or religious missionary. Nobody we know drives a car that nice.

When I get into the kitchen, my mom is there and says, “There’s someone waiting in the living room to see you. Kari Shaw?”

I have no idea who that is, so I just shrug my shoulders and turn to walk into the living room under my mother’s watchful gaze.

Stepping onto the Livingroom rug, the woman catches sight of me and looks up from her phone. Instantly she drops it in her bag and stands with her hand stretched out toward me.

“Ellie Rose?” she asks with a firm cold voice. She must be in her 50’s, but if you didn’t see the lines on her face, she would look young. Her hair is perfectly straight and long hanging down well past her shoulders and her white ruffled blouse and black skirt are perfectly tailored to her overly slim figure.

“Yes,” I say as I reach to shake her hand.

She grabs my fingers and moves my hand up and out to the side as she looks me over from top to bottom. Next to where she was sitting, I see a very large white garment bag draped over the couch and a round platform standing up on its side.

I recognize the platform as being very similar to the one I had to stand on when I was getting fitted with a bridesmaid dress for my cousin’s wedding a couple of years ago. Is this what Dorian meant when he said that he’d ‘have something dropped off’? That he would send a tailor to my house?

“Go and take off that sweater and jeans,” Kari says impatiently and obviously a little disgusted by my clothing choice. I have a feeling that she’s the type that is only tolerant of people who are overly polished like herself.

Sheepishly I ask, “Did Dorian send you?”

“I don’t work in sales, so I don’t know or care who paid for it. I am here to ensure that this gown,” she says waiving her arm toward the garment bag, “Fits beautifully on the Ms. Ellie Rose who resides at this address.” She really seems to resent answering questions, so I can see why she wouldn’t be a good fit in any sales department.

She continues, “Someone has already paid the bill, or I wouldn’t be here. Our boutique does not work on credit, we do not give refunds, and we very rarely make house calls, so I would prefer to do this quickly, so I can be on my way back to Chicago.”

Wow, she came all that way? I can’t imagine how much this must cost.

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