Bill jumped out.
“Sorry for the inconvenience, Ed,” J.T. was saying, hand outstretched. “If it weren’t for helping with the war, I’d never have asked you.”
“Think nothing of it,” an older, gray-haired man said. He had the plump, well-cared-for look of a wealthy man. “The clerk isn’t here yet?” he asked, frowning.
“No,” J.T. answered. “How’s your family?”
“Fine, one boy at Yale, the other in the air force. How’s your mother?”
“Worried about her sons, of course.”
The older man smiled and took out his wallet from his inside coat pocket. “I hope this is enough.”
Bill’s eyes widened as the man handed J.T. a four-inch-thick wad of money.
“It should be,” J.T. said, grinning, “but you know ladies.”
“May I meet her?”
J.T. went to the taxi door and opened it. Aria gracefully left the car.
“Your Royal Highness, I am honored,” the older man said.
Aria would never get used to American manners. The man was not to speak until spoken to and he was to be presented to her. But considering the way she had been treated by the odious Lieutenant Montgomery on the island, this man’s behavior was the height of protocol. She inclined her head in his direction.
J.T. seemed about to reprimand her about something when a dark Chevrolet pulled up beside them and a thin, hawk-nosed woman got out. She was obviously angry about something.
As every woman knows, there is no snob like a saleswoman in an exclusive dress shop. And this particular clerk had been ordered from her bed in the middle of the night.
She looked at the men. “I don’t appreciate this,” she snapped. “I don’t care if there is a war going on. I won’t stand for this.” She turned to Aria and looked down her long nose. “This is what I’m to work with?”
All three men opened their mouths to speak but Aria stepped in front of them. “You will open your little shop and show me your wares. If they are good enough, I will purchase an item or two.” She said it in such an autocratic way, as if she were granting the woman a favor, that the men were stunned. “Now!” Aria said in a clipped voice.
“Yes, miss,” the woman said meekly as she fumbled at her keys.
Aria entered the store as soon as the lights were turned on. It was the first store she had ever entered and it intrigued her. Rather than being presented with drawings of dresses and swatches of fabric, here were dresses already made. How very odd to think of wearing a dress that had not been designed for her alone.
Behind her the saleswoman was talking to the lieutenant and Aria touched a blouse hanging from a long rack. The ivory silk crepe was rather nice. Next to it was a yellow blouse with small black dots on it. She had always wanted to see how she looked in yellow. Perhaps she could see if the blouse fit.
She began to see possibilities in this idea of previously made clothes. She might be more inclined to be adventurous if she could see what something looked like before it was sewn.
“Here!” the saleswoman hissed at J.T., handing him a piece of paper with a telephone number on it. “Call this and tell Mavis to get over here instantly.”
J.T., like all men, was out of place in the female atmosphere and docilely did as he was bid.
“Who is he?” Bill whispered as J.T. was dialing, nodding toward the older man who had managed to open the store in the middle of the night.
“A friend of my mother’s. He owns a bank or two,” J.T. said as he dialed. “Hello, Mavis?” he said into the telephone.
“I am waiting,” Aria said impatiently from the dressing room.
The banker left, Mavis arrived, and Bill and J.T. sat down on little gold chairs to wait. Bill dozed while J.T. shifted on his chair impatiently.
“This will not do at all,” Aria said, examining herself in the mirror.
“But it’s a Mainbocher,” the woman protested. “Perhaps a tuck taken in here and one here, and with the right gloves…”
“Perhaps. Now, about this one.”