The Silent Shooter

Three-2

I’M NOT ENTIRELY SURE how much fun I’m having, but I do enjoy the sight of Helen emerging from the dressing room at the high-end women’s clothing outlet store to model one dress after another for my approval.

Ah, it’s a tough job, but someone has to do it.

Her first task, she told me on the drive over, is to find just the right red dress to wear to Saint Clare’s tomorrow for the announcement.

“But you already have a red dress I love you in,” I had said.

“Yes, Tom, I know you love it. I know why you love it,” she grins. “But it’s too low up top and too short down below. I need to find something appropriate, like Angelo suggested.”

Unfortunately, the selection of red dresses is somewhat limited. Fortunately, the third one she comes out in is a real show-stopper. It has elbow-length sleeves that end in a deep ruffle. The V-neck is high enough to satisfy anyone. The wrap-type skirt falls well below her knees and is sewn up the side to prevent any embarrassing accidents.

When I finally find my voice, I say, “Beautiful!”

Looking at herself in the mirror, Helen says, “You like it?”

“Like it? It’s perfect!”

Helen rewards me with a beaming smile. a*****e clerk comes up to her and asks, “Find what you were looking for, ma’am?”

“Yes, this is just the one,” she answers.

“Great choice. It looks so good with your coloring. And, at 40 percent off—”

“Wait,” Helen says excitedly. “It’s on sale?”

She nods “Everything in the store is at least forty percent off.”

“Wonderful,” she says. “Tom, you know, I’m going to need several new outfits, with everything going on. Might as well get them now.”

In spite of the fact that we’ve already been here an hour, it’s getting near lunchtime, and I’m beginning to get hungry, I yield to the impeccable logic of my bride. So, I spend the next hour and a half looking at Helen in one dress after another.

Again, not a bad way to spend a Saturday morning. And it’s my own fault for not eating more at breakfast.

Finally, she brings her selections to the counter to check out. When the final total flashes on the small register screen, I manage not to gasp or pass out.

Helen’s spending more on dresses than I earn in a week.

Sensing my discomfort, she whispers, “Tom, I haven’t bought anything new in a while—except for that red dress. I need these to give people a good impression.”

“I guess I’m just not used to spending so much on clothes.”

“You only wear black, darling, and unfortunately I don’t have that option unless you want me to look like a nun.” She leans closer and says in a low voice, “Is that what you want me to look like?”

“No, no, no,” I say quickly. “This is just fine.”

The store clerk hands Helen her purchases in a dress bag and we’re soon on our way, again hand in hand. We both know there’s a slight chance that someone might see us, but since it soon won’t matter, neither of us are in the mood to be too cautious.

We’re just too happy together.

I have done my research and know that one of Helen’s favorite chain restaurants is nearby, one best known for the wide variety of cheesecake that it offers. We make our selections—traditional New York-style with strawberry sauce for her, turtle for me—and I ask our waiter to bring us a bottle of wine. He soon returns with the wine and our cheesecakes, uncorks the bottle and pours the burgundy into our glasses.

I raise my glass and say, “To our one-day secret engagement.”

Helen responds, “To the start of our public life together.”

Then, I take advantage of the fact that we are over an hour from home and do something I would not normally do. I lean across the table to kiss her right in front of God and everyone in that restaurant.

***