Sofia dressed carefully to meet with the photographer. She wore a black wrap dress Rosa had acquired when Miss. Sage weeded through her closets. Sofia had several designer dresses discarded by Sage. Rosa was shorter and wasn't lured by beautiful clothing. Sofia spent hours looking online at images and fashion.
Her dream was to wear a beautiful gown and dance in the Petersen's ballroom. She had peeked in during other parties and watched the couples glide across the polished floor. She had never been caught looking until Saturday night. The memory of his male scent and warmth caused heat to travel to her cheeks. Triste Monty was a mystery. She had always been partial to mysteries and stories of intrigue.
Rather than drive into the city, she took the subway from Orient Heights near her family's home on the first floor of a divided row house in East Boston.
Many immigrants found their way from Colombia to East Boston in the same decade her parents came with her grandparents. As she walked the blocks to the station, voices called out to her. "Hola Sofia."
She rode the blue line to State Street, where she transferred to the orange line. Exiting at Mass Ave. on the edge of the South End, she walked to the Columbus Avenue address. Looking at the old three story office building, she expected something better. The directory indicated the other tenants were a dentist, a massage therapist, several counselors, and various other businesses. When she stepped inside, it smelled like a dentist's office.
She located the elevator and pressed the up button. The motor kicked on as the car lowered with a thump. Apprehensively, she stepped into the car and pushed the three. The elevator rocked, and she made a mental note to use the stairs.
Stepping onto the third floor, she felt damp under her arms. She passed a few offices before reaching Furman Photography. She opened the door to an empty reception.
Unsure of what to do, she checked the time. She was only five minutes early. In the distance, she heard a toilet flush and shifted her feet uncomfortably. A door opened and closed and a man appeared from around the corner.
He smiled and reached out his hand. She shook it, but pulled back quickly. It was cold and her mind imagined he had washed with cold water after doing who knows what in the bathroom.
"Sofia. You are more beautiful in person."
"Thank you, Mr. Furman."
"Please call me Alan."
He was a nice-looking man, although she didn't like his mustache. She liked facial hair like Monty had. She needed to stop thinking of him. Alan looked about forty and was thick in the middle. He was meant to be on the other side of the camera.
"I have a minor job today, but I know I'll have more work for you." He paused and looked at her in a way that raised the hair on her arms. "I've been commissioned to take pictures for a book cover. The dress is over there behind the screen. There's red lipstick. Otherwise your makeup is perfect." She looked apprehensively at the screen, then back to Al. "Go on. You're safe with me. I'm partial to masculine muscles."
She giggled nervously and remembered the encounter by the ballroom door. "Me too."
"You'll have to channel those thoughts for my photographs. Tell me, is he handsome?"
"Very."
She stepped behind the curtain. Hanging on a hook was a long gown. Sofia touched the fabric and knew it was nothing like the dresses worn in the ballroom. It was probably meant for the prom or a bridesmaid, although the deep burgundy color looked rich. The lipstick was a dark red. A brighter red would clash.
She stepped out from behind the screen. Alan was busy with his camera, which looked expensive and impressive attached to the sturdy tripod. Across from the camera was a green screen and an antique-looking velvet loveseat.
"Go stand in front of the settee."
Settee. Did the Petersens have a settee?
She did as he said for about thirty minutes. She stood and sat in different positions. She smiled, and her favorite was when he asked her to imagine her sexy man. He wasn't hers, but she could pretend.
"Perfect. Go ahead and change."
She was happy to wear her own dress again. He handed her an envelope. She looked inside to see five twenties. After a half hour of work, she earned a hundred dollars. She had worked all night to earn twice the amount. She liked the 'wear an itchy dress and smile' job better.
"I'll call you again."
She left using the stairs. With a full day ahead of her, she made a plan to drive over to spend time with her niece. Rosa would appreciate not having her under foot. Returning home on the train, she changed into jeans and drove to Weston.
Rosa was in the kitchen at the big house rolling out pastry. Lina sat in a cardboard box with some toys. The moment the two-year-old saw her, she bounced up and down. "Tia, Tia, Tia."
Sofia bent over and picked the squirming girl. "Let's go play."
Rosa smiled. The sisters often disagreed, but she always appreciated help with her daughter. It couldn't be easy running a kitchen and supervising a big house with a little one.
Before she took the little girl home above the garage, she asked what Rosa was making.
"Apple pie. I'm serving dinner for five."
"What's on the menu?"
"Maple pecan salmon. Mashed sweet potatoes and green bean almondine."
"It sounds delicious."
"There may be some leftovers. After the pie, I'm making fresh bread."
"I can help get the dining room ready."
Rosa shook her head. "No dining room. Miss. Bea said casual."
Sofia laughed and shook her head. "Casual."
Growing up food was part of celebrations anytime family and friends came together, but on normal days with both their parents working long hours, dinner was often basic food or convenience foods which filled the supermarkets.
As Sofia played with Lina, she wondered when Alan would call her again. She couldn't live on an occasional hundred. Julio arrived close to four and Lina ran to him.
Sofia warned, "Papi is dirty, Lina. Stay with Tia. Are you still working in the gardens?"
He nodded. "Cutting all the perennials is a big job."
"Does Miss. Bea help you?"
"No. This is hard work. She likes when her garden grows, not when it's dead."
"Is the fountain still on? Bea wants me to make a wish."
"Yes, but this week I will turn it off."
"What about the fish?"
"They live under the ice."
Sofia loved living things. She let bugs outside rather than kill them. "Are you telling the truth?"
"Yes, occasionally one doesn't make it, but most do."
"Do wishes work in the winter?"
"Miss. Bea says they do."
An older woman believing in magic made it hard not to believe too. Sofia would humor her and wish for true love. She would save her wish to be rich for another day.
Before Sofia left, she set out for the garden with a coin in her hand. She weaved the shadowy paths. Julio had removed the solar lights for winter and the sun was below the treeline. The air was chilly, but she wore a coat.
The sound of the fountain helped guide her in the quiet night. When she reached the clearing, she saw a familiar glow.
YOU ARE READING
A Billion Reasons (Wish 8)
Romance(Complete) Monty Whitby grew up knowing exactly what was expected of him. As the sole heir of Whitby Enterprises, he will one day take over, but his father never misses the opportunity to tell him he will never meet his expectations. Once Monty's re...
