Part 9 (2/2)
”You'll be good, won't you, Lucky?” He purred convincingly as I scratched behind his ears.
A woman came through the door, and I thought for a moment that she must be a giantess, so tall were her heels. Her blond hair piled atop her head in a bun that extended her height even farther, and a crisply tailored suit fitted her lean body perfectly in a robin's egg blue. She crossed the kitchen in a handful of strides and pulled me close to her in a familiar hug, her bosom pressing against my chest. I smelled a delicate violet scent of perfume, and her diamond earrings tickled my cheek.
”So this is Brynn!” she cried, exclamation punctuating every word she said. She spoke nearly perfect English, her accent slightly British but otherwise unnoticeable. She pulled back and took me by both arms, examining me. I tried on my most convincing smile. ”How darling. Eliot's told me so much about you! And of course Otto is dying to meet you, as well.”
I wondered what Eliot had told her that promised so much of me, but I decided she must just be overly friendly. My jaw hurt from smiling broadly, and when she turned to Eliot for a hug I was glad for the chance to relax my face.
”Eliot, dear, why haven't you come to visit us again? We'd love to have you for dinner. This time less of a party, yes? I'll make sure Otto doesn't go overboard.”
”I've been working,” Eliot said. ”And if you can find a way to stop Otto from going overboard, you're a more valiant person than me.”
”Oh, stop!” she cried, her t.i.ttering laughter filling the kitchen. The peace of the morning's quiet had been shattered by her presence, but curiosity filled me up as I watched her move. This was Eliot's sister-in-law? I wondered about the rest of his family. I wondered about the brother. Who would marry such an unstoppable force as this lady?
”Shall we go, then?” Marta was looking at me, her bright blue eyes framed by long lashes. ”We have so much to do, I don't want to stand around waiting.”
”Um, sure,” I said.
Eliot caught Marta by the arm as we went to leave. He spoke a few quick words in Hungarian. Marta's eyes darted over to me, but quickly turned away. She spoke back in their native tongue, a kind tone to her words, and patted Eliot on the shoulder, kissing him twice alternately on the cheeks. She turned to me expectantly.
I had only read a little bit about Hungarian customs, and the two-p.r.o.nged kiss h.e.l.lo and goodbye was completely unfamiliar to me. Not knowing what to do, I was startled when Eliot leaned forward and kissed me on the cheeks. His lips barely brushed my skin, his face pressing lightly against mine, but I felt the contact as piercingly as when he had touched my hand before. My body leaned forward of its own account, aching to be held.
”Goodbye, Brynn,” Eliot said softly. ”I will see you later.”
”She's in good hands,” Marta said, taking me by the arm and spinning me away toward the door. ”I will show you all of Budapest!”
I had longed to see Budapest for ages, but now all I wanted was to stay with Eliot, to walk the grounds with him and work on math with him. I might be in good hands with Marta, but the only arms I wanted around me were not hers.
Marta drove a sleek sports car, bright orange and convertible, but when I asked her what kind it was, she just shrugged.
”Lamborghini,” she said. ”I don't know what kind. I think it is too slow on curves. Otto gave it to me last month to try.”
We took off with a roar, and despite her misgivings, I thought the car sped nicely along the roads. I couldn't imagine having a husband who would buy me flashy, expensive cars just to try out for size, but Marta took it all in stride.
”We shall have to go to the opera sometime when you are here. I adore the opera, don't you?”
”I've never been,” I said.
”Oh, you will love it!” Marta went on, gus.h.i.+ng about all of the things in Budapest that I would admire. I believed her, but our mission today was only to find clothes, and I was disappointed that we would have to shop instead of seeing all of the magnificent culture that Marta went on and on about. Marta's face lit up, though, when we pulled up directly in front of a crowded street of shopgoers. She parked the car on the side of the street in front of a chic boutique and jumped out.
”Are we...uh...should we park here?” I asked. The curb was painted red, and n.o.body else had parked anywhere near.
”Government plates, darling,” Marta said. ”Don't worry, I've never gotten a ticket.”
I felt strange leaving the car parked in an obviously illegal spot, but Marta didn't care so I tried to ignore it. I hated breaking rules, but I was just a guest here, after all. A cold guest. The chill pierced me as soon as I got out of the car, so I hurried inside the door of the shop behind Marta.
Marta strode into the boutique and immediately began picking out clothes. One of the shopgirls seemed to recognize her and trotted eagerly behind, letting Marta pile her arms up with pretty things. I walked around the edge of the store, looking carefully at the winter coats they had hanging up. The prices seemed outrageous, and I did some mental calculations in my head just to make sure I wasn't going crazy with the currency conversion. Some of the coats cost four figures in American dollars! I didn't even want to touch the fabric, for fear of damaging it.
Marta waved me over to the back, where the shopgirl had a mountain of clothes heaped over her arms. At first I thought they were meant for Marta, but she ushered me into a dressing room and hooked all of the hangers on the rod inside.
”I...I just need a coat,” I stammered to Marta. She had picked out dress after dress, blouses and skirts that seemed lovely but not at all meant for cold weather.
”First we need to dress you properly,” Marta said. ”Then we can worry about coats to match.”
Her tone was so commanding that I couldn't disobey. I began trying on clothes, one by one. After I came out to model the first dress that fit, Marta conversed with the shopgirl in Hungarian. The girl listened, nodded, and sped out the door as quick as could be. Marta asked the other girl to find me dresses in different sizes if they didn't fit, and together they admired me in the mirror, pinching the fabric up one way or the other and chattering in Hungarian rapidly. I felt like a zoo exhibit. A pampered, cla.s.sy zoo exhibit.
The first shopgirl came back with a bag that turned out to be filled with bras and panties. Marta laughed at my red face when the shopgirl brought out the underwear.
”Don't worry, I will come with you to try these on privately,” Marta said. I thought her definition of private was a little off, but I tried to refuse and she just clucked at me. ”To be beautiful outside, you must be beautiful inside,” she said. ”And that includes underwear.”
I had to admit, once we found a bra that fit me comfortably, every dress I put on looked better. Marta gushed over some outfits and pooh-poohed others, without any rhyme or reason that I could tell. All of the clothes seemed beautiful and well-made. We tried on shoes, dresses, skirts, and every time Marta wanted something that the store did not have, the shopgirl ran out to the street and came back with it.
One dress in particular stuck out to me as lovely, a light violet satin that flowed over my curves, accentuating my hips. I thought it was a little low-cut, but when I came out with it on, Marta's eyes shone in delight.
”You are beautiful,” she said. ”Magnificent! Don't you think so?”
The shopgirls nodded in brisk agreement as I turned in the mirror. I smiled as the delicate fabric swished around my ankles.
The pile of clothes Marta had approved was quickly rung up, folded, and placed into golden paper shopping bags. Marta insisted that I buy six sets of the underwear that had fit me, ”in different colors, just in case,” as well as two beautiful wool coats in red and black. I began to protest the cost, but Marta pulled out a card from her small purse and charged it without a second thought. I thanked her profusely, but she waved it away with her hand.
”Of course,” she said. ”Anything for Eliot. A few clothes is far less than his proper due.”
”Due?”
”Otto and I owe him a great debt. But that's another story for another day.”
Anxious though I was to hear any sc.r.a.p of information about Eliot, I let the subject go and happily suited up in wool stockings and a dress under the demure black coat. The wool stockings kept my legs surprisingly warm, and the black leather heeled boots made every step comfortable, despite the heels being higher than what I normally wore. Marta looked me over once, her fingers brus.h.i.+ng my hair down, before hooking her arm through mine to leave the shop.
”Perfect,” she said. ”And just in time for lunch!”
If the clothes cost more than I had spent in my lifetime, the lunch was just as extravagant. Marta took me to a charming bistro at the heart of the city, again leaving her car double parked on the road. Marta saw my embarra.s.sed look back at the car, and laughed at me as we entered the cafe and sat at one of the front tables.
”You are just as proper about cars as Eliot,” she said.
I struck upon the opportunity. I wanted to know more about Eliot, and his brother's sister seemed to know everything.
”Why is he proper about cars?” I asked.
”Well, you know...” she said, the smile fading from her face into a look of pity. ”His wife.”
My heart sank in my chest, and I tried to hide my expression of disbelief. The world around me seemed to dim and blur, and I could hear my blood pounding in my veins. Sweat beaded under the collar of my coat. I couldn't breathe.
”He- he has a wife?”
”Oh, he didn't tell you about her?” Marta sipped a lemon water, her focus drifting over to the waiter. A shock of tears rose up behind my eyes and I looked away, out toward the street, where dozens of people pa.s.sed by, completely unaware that my heart was breaking. I berated myself for wanting, for hoping. Of course everyone would have thought I was his mistress. And I might have become one, unwittingly. My being went numb with terror at the thought.
”No,” I managed to choke out. Marta turned back to me and leaned forward.
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