“Then you can’t blame me for throwing out a few quotes here and there. Sometimes I use them to hide and sometimes just to even the score.”
“Even the score? But you’re so smart.”
“And tall and gangly and clueless. Like the other day—you were laughing about rhinoplasties. I thought you were talking about some kind of rhinoceros.”
“Rhinoplasty means my mother hauled me and my big nose to a plastic surgeon when I was sixteen to make it into a cute little button.” She tapped her nose in staccato with the last three words.
“She did?”
“Yeah.” She pulled extra hard on the tweezers.
“Ouch! Maybe we shouldn’t talk about your mother.”
She grimaced. “Probably not the best topic right now . . . I’m almost done. You look like Anne Hathaway, you know.”
“Yeah, right.”
“It’s true, whether you believe it or not. So tuck it away and pull it out when you need it.” Her voice drifted. “You know the best compliment I ever got?”
“Hmmm?”
“I was in seventh grade and a friend was over. We were flipping through magazines, yapping about something, and she turned to me and said, ‘Ashley, you always make me feel so good about myself.’” Ashley paused, tasting the compliment in her mind. “That’s nice, isn’t it?”
“Very nice.”
We were silent for a few moments.
“I pull that out sometimes. I’d like to be that person.” Ashley sat back and examined her work. “Go look.”
I went to the bathroom and looked into the mirror, and was shocked. I’m not saying I was instantly gorgeous. No Anne Hathaway. But I looked pretty. My eyes looked bigger, browner somehow. Everything looked neat and refined. I didn’t even feel so tall. That probably makes no sense to a man, but it felt good—really good.
I returned to the living room with a huge grin on my face. Ashley laughed. “My work here is done.” She grabbed her bag off the couch and headed to the door.
“Thanks, Ash. You can stay, you know? Do you want some popcorn?”
“No, but thanks. I’ve got some work to do.” She looked through the door to my bedroom. “I’m sorry about earlier. None of this was about your poster. I love the O’Keeffe.”
“I get it. And I’m sorry I push back at you sometimes. Just call me out when my quoting is obnoxious.”
“Yeah. And tell me when I go all Park Ave on you, okay? I don’t mean to sound like such a snob.” She hugged me. “Ugh . . . so much to improve. See you tomorrow.”
Now I sit here thinking about Ashley, and about that stupid poster, and about my characters. It’s time to lay them down, isn’t it? They’ve gone from helping me to trapping me to hurting others. That can’t be good.
Good night, Mr. Knightley. Thanks for reading. Sleep well . . .
NOVEMBER 13
Dear Samantha,
Mr. Knightley asked me to write to you. He didn’t dictate this letter, only asked me to alleviate your worries about the clothing. I hope I didn’t overstep. He told me what Father John arranged and asked me to “purchase some nice articles of clothing.” I may have gotten carried away.
I visited Grace House last fall and passed you outside Father John’s office. You had just turned down the foundation’s offer for graduate school and accepted the position at Ernst & Young. In fact, you were moving out of Grace House that very afternoon. You were a few inches taller than me and I noted your warm complexion, brown eyes, and beautiful brown hair. The several photos that Father John attached to your application confirmed my memories and added further insights into your size and stature.
Armed with my gathered information, I hit the stores. I thought the cream sweater, orange scarf, and brown coat would look perfect on you. Except for the one blouse, I stayed away from black, as I imagine your coloring more suited to warm tones. I think my favorite item is the pair of suede boots. I almost bought a pair for myself and still might.
Mr. Knightley did not know the details of a single item purchased. He didn’t ask, and he has never met you. Nor will he attach strings to this gift. This I know: he is a good man and would never cross the line with any woman. Please don’t hold my exuberance against him or his foundation.
I hope this note assuages your concerns and that you enjoy the clothes. One more thing—I know you are busy at Medill, but your new laptop has amazing resolution. Great for movies.Downton Abbeyand the newSherlockare available online, if you’ve never seen them.
