would have said no. Irrevocably no. She shivered. She was escaping everything. Derek. Chicago. Everything. She was madly in love. Simon Todd had told her so. She had awakened that morning and fallen in love. She was madly in love—and so was he.
There was no limit. Jill did not have to examine price tags. She did not have to go to the basement level of Field's to search out bargains. She did not, on the upper floors of the department store, have to make her way to the clearance racks for clothes that no one wanted until they were on sale. She had only now to stop and admire and it would be hers.
It took her some time to realize that.
On Wednesday, Jill had not called the limousine service. Instead she had taken the train, as always, to work. She had faced her superior at once, apologizing profusely for the sudden way in which she had to quit her job. Her superior was put out and angry, but Jill was adamant. They had made it clear on hiring her that the job was not permanent. It could have ended at any moment. They had owed her nothing, and equally, she owed them nothing. She left quickly, saying good-bye to no one, feeling the resentment for her freedom follow her out the door. Once in the street, however, Jill wanted to dance for joy. No more invoices—ever. The day was sparkling clear. She walked over to Marshall Field, and arrived tingling with cold.
The night before, she had made up a list of things she would need. However, now, standing in the front entrance to the elegant old institution, she hesitated. Suddenly Jill Carteret found herself at a feast in which there was so much to eat—she could not take a bite.
It was early afternoon before she used her first credit card. It did not surprise her that Simon Todd had been able to get it to her so quickly. She remembered Mrs. Hughes's words, "He doesn't look like the kind of man to be kept waiting." Now standing in the lingerie department of Saks, she felt the first curious thrill over the fate that was to befall her on Friday. It was the sight of a nightgown draped on a mannequin that did it. It was a pearl satin gown with a see-through lace top set in at a diagonal, and thin, spaghetti straps visible below a matching quilted jacket. She stared at it for a while, as a child stares longingly at a Christmas display of dolls in a store window. She did not dream for a minute that she could touch the gown and it would be hers.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" A saleslady smiled distantly at Jill, as if they were sharers of an impossible dream.
"I'd like to try it on," said Jill suddenly. The impossible dream was hers, wasn't it?
The saleslady ran an appraising eye over Jill's old coat. "It's one hundred and fifty dollars," she said coldly.
Jill put her hand to her hair, the diamond a beacon, a warning light. "I'll try it on." She would buy the nightgown now even if it fit like a rag.
The saleslady nodded, clearly mesmerized by the ring. "Come this way."
It was only when Jill was arrayed in the satin gown, its silken, fluid line revealing her small waist and shapely breasts, that the saleslady smiled her approval. "You have a very beautiful figure, my dear. You look simply marvelous."
Jill stared at herself in the mirror. Was she too thin as Simon had said? Did she need plumping out? "My fiancée thinks I'm sort of skinny," she said.
"Now don't you pay any attention," the saleslady told her. "He's just a tease." She stood back and smiled admiringly. "Good heavens, you're quite lovely and he knows it. When are you getting married?"
"Friday."
The saleslady helped her into the quilted jacket. "Well, we're going to have to splurge for the honeymoon, aren't we?"
Honeymoon. Jill stared at herself in the mirror. She had never even thought about it. The move to Manaus had seemed the reward, the honeymoon. She saw the blush rise along her throat to darken her face, but the saleslady did not seem to notice it. Honeymoon. Jill did not dare to think about it.
After her purchase
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley