Once Upon Stilettos

I needed to tell somebody before I got hit by another attack like that. But not yet. I needed to think about it. I wanted to be able to offer a compromise or solution before I dropped that news. I needed to have some sense of what I’d do next, and right now I had no idea.



Owen interrupted my frightened musings, asking, “You know how I asked you to help me shop for my foster parents?”



“Yes, of course.” I was relieved to have something else to think about.



“Well, I was wondering if you had time this evening. Nothing major—maybe hit a few stores in our neighborhood. We could also grab dinner.”



“Sure. That sounds great,” I said. It would even give me a good nonthreatening environment for me to talk to him about my little problem.



“Shall we meet in the lobby after work? I’ll give you a call if I’m going to be late.”



“That’ll be fine.”



He gave me a businesslike nod. “Okay then. I’ll see you after work.”



I’d only been waiting a few minutes that evening when he came barreling down the main stairs, out of breath, his necktie askew and his overcoat still over his arm. “Sorry I’m late,” he said when he came to a stop next to me and struggled into his coat.



“I haven’t been here that long,” I told him, as I helped him untangle a sleeve. “Relax. So, any particular destination in mind?”



“That’s what I hoped you could help me with,” he said as we headed out of the building together. “I don’t shop all that much, so I wouldn’t begin to know where to look.”



“Well, maybe we should start with what you have in mind to buy for them.”



He looked utterly terrified. “I don’t have anything in mind.”



“What have you bought them in the past?”



“For a while, I ordered gift baskets from a catalog, and then when they told me I didn’t have to get them anything, I started making contributions to their favorite charities in their honor. I thought I’d go with something a little more personal this year.”



“You do realize that being a girl doesn’t make me an expert shopper, don’t you? Maybe I should have made an appointment for you with my roommate, Gemma.”



“Sorry. I guess this was a bad idea.”



“No, I’m glad to help. But don’t expect miracles. Why don’t you tell me a little about them, and that might help me decide?”



We entered the subway station, where we were blessedly out of the cold wind. “Well, let’s see, they’re both fairly old, in their eighties, at least. Very traditional, highly educated, quite independent. Gloria is elegant—I’ve never seen her when she wasn’t fully dressed and put together, even first thing in the morning. James is like a lifelong student. Even now, he’s constantly reading. Does that give you enough to go on?”



“I have some ideas.” A train approached, and as we boarded I said, “We should get off in SoHo. I’m thinking some nice jewelry for Gloria, then a book on a fascinating subject for James.”



“You are good,” he said, with a smile that did funny things to my insides.



“And you really must be a lousy shopper if you couldn’t come up with that on your own.” That surprised me, given that he always wore perfectly tailored suits. Either he conjured them up or he had a personal tailor, more for convenience than fashion.



We left the train at Prince Street. “I seem to recall that there’s an interesting little store a couple of blocks over in Nolita—not that I’ve actually ever bought any jewelry, mind you,” I said.



“Lead the way. And how do you know all this?”



“I have a roommate who works in fashion. She sometimes makes me come with her on her research expeditions.”



“See, I came to the right person.”



The jewelry store was where I’d remembered it, and it was still open. The saleslady greeted us with a friendly smile. “Hi! Can I help you find something?” she asked. “Let me guess, you’d like to see our selection of engagement rings.”



Owen clammed up, looked at the floor, and left everything to me. I decided where he really needed my help was in communicating with the salespeople, not in deciding what to buy. In this case, though, even I was embarrassed. I tried to pin the saleslady with a steely glare as I said, “Actually, we’re here to look for a gift for his mother. Maybe a brooch?”



It was her turn to blush. “Oops, sorry about that. Didn’t mean to embarrass you. Right over here we have a nice selection of brooches. We carry the works of some of the freshest designers around.” She led us over to a display case. “Let me know if you want to get a closer look at something.”