Michael and Susan

Chapter 10 (Susan): Actions

Copyright © 2024 by GroveltoHEA

I was now faced with a serious dilemma.

Having just come from a meeting with my district manager, she had proposed something to me that was so unexpected, it had stunned me. It was something I had never thought of, something that was unimaginable.

Avon wanted me to be one of their models for their fall catalogs.

Me.

A model.

The woman who managed a number of us representatives in her region had written to me, asking to meet with me. I'd replied that I would, and several days later, my manager, Mrs. Wilson, and an unknown man were waiting at a table in the agreed-upon restaurant.

"Mrs. Davenport, I'd like to introduce you to Mr. Oakland. He is the marketing director at Avon."

He'd shaken my hand, and then we all sat down again.

"Mrs. Davenport, you have risen to the top as both an Avon lady and as someone who represents the look that Avon wants to focus on in its fall campaigns," Mrs. Wilson began. "Beautiful, but real. Kind and sweet...and just a bit mysterious. Someone who is one of us. Avon told all of us regional managers to scout for Avon ladies as they didn't wish to go with actual models for the fall campaigns."

"I...don't know what to say," I said. "I'm honored. Thank you."

"I've found many of our models for previous catalogs, so they've learned to trust my judgment."

"I just don't think --"

She tsk-tsked me. "Please be confident in my opinion, Mrs. Davenport. I know my business, and I'm never wrong as to the suitability of a woman to be an Avon model. You're perfect. Exactly what we're looking for this fall."

"Thank you."

"We wanted the fall catalogs to portray real women who both use and sell our products," Mr. Oakland finally entered the conversation. "As soon as you walked in, I told Mrs. Wilson you were perfect. Exactly the look my team wanted. Someone whose beauty was real enough on its own but could be transformed even more with Avon products. You are the type of model we want."I felt myself blushing at his compliment.

He handed me a sheet of paper. "This is what we pay our models."

My eyes rounded at the number, and then he pushed a small packet of paper toward me."Now, if you're interested, we'll just need your husband to sign the contract so we can start planning the photo session."

Oh, my goodness. My husband had to sign the contract.

Of course he did. That hadn't even occurred to me while we'd been talking, but a married woman wasn't allowed to enter into a contractual agreement, so I'd have to get Michael involved if I wanted to do this. Would Michael sign it? Would he want his wife's face in Avon catalogs? Especially considering his wife hadn't shown her face to her husband in months and wasn't living in their house with him.

This was quite a dilemma. I suspected that before I left him, Michael wouldn't have wanted my face to be used to sell make up. Now? Would he be even less inclined or would he agree to please me? Oh, but what if he refused? Could I suddenly pass myself off as a widow? I asked him to sign the contract, but he was so surprised he died from shock. It was terribly tragic. Where do I sign?

That appealed, but only for a brief moment. No more than a minute or two, really.

I gave them both a smile that was much more confident than I felt. "When do you need an answer? I'm sure my husband and I will have to discuss this at length, and he'll want to look over the contract very thoroughly."

"Of course," Mr. Oakland said. "We understand. Would two weeks be sufficient time?"

Two weeks? No. That meant I had to see Michael before I planned because I knew there was no way he would just sign the contract without talking it over with me. He had no idea I was even selling Avon, so being asked to be an Avon model would be hard for him to comprehend. I tried to envision Michael's reaction to the news; if he tried to use this as a way to force me home, as leverage to get me to return, I just might become a widow.

"Yes, absolutely. That will be more than enough time," I beamed a smile at both of them. We ordered a light lunch and chatted comfortably about the campaign, what I could expect and about how much of my time the photo session would take.

Deep inside, I found that I really wanted to take this opportunity, not because I wanted to be a model necessarily, but to have an experience I never expected to have. Most girls became wives and then mothers and and that was their entire existence, and it was all most of us asked out of life. But now, maybe I could have something more, just for a short time, something to remember the rest of my life. Something I could tell my children and grandchildren about as I pulled out the catalogs -- look what I did once upon a time! The only thing possibly preventing me was Michael.

That evening, after having stopped by the church to speak with Father Ellis and get his approval for what I was planning, I drove home and told Mrs. Engel about all of the excitement from my luncheon.

"A model!" she said, the tips of her fingers going over her mouth in surprise. "That sounds like a great deal of fun. And what a compliment to your looks!"

I felt myself blushing again as I always did whenever my looks were mentioned.

"You think you'd be used to it by now," Michael had always teased when he coaxed a blush from me. "You're an incredibly beautiful woman, Suze, and everything you are inside makes you even more so."

"I stopped by the church and asked if Father Ellis would meet with Michael and me tomorrow at seven just before the vestry meeting. He's going to call Michael on the telephone tonight and ask if he can make it. Oh, I feel very sorry for Father Ellis, but he's been an absolute brick throughout all of this. So kind."

"I'm sure he doesn't mind. He is the shepherd of the church and you are part of his flock."

"Will you mind me borrowing the car?"

She leaned forward, eyes twinkling. "Not if you promise to tell me all about the meeting with Michael. You have made life so interesting for a lonely old lady."

"You're not old, but I'll be happy to tell you everything," I said as I pressed her hand. "This is all so unsettling, Mrs. Engel. What if Michael says no?"

"We'll simply invite him over for dinner and apply my mother's solution to a recalcitrant male," she said archly.

I looked at her and we both started laughing.

********************************

Barely able to sleep that night with both excitement and uncertainty of what my meeting with Michael would bring, I tossed and turned. Normally, if I had a restless night, Michael would pull me to him and his warmth would seep into me until I got drowsy and fell asleep.

Sometimes, he got much more creative with tiring me out.

Sighing, I hit my pillow, unable to deny that I missed him. I missed the way he always asked me about my day first, as if I had much of interest to impart compared to his day at work. I missed the way he never failed to thank me for the dinner I'd made. I missed the walks we'd take together after dinner, sometimes stopping by the school yard where he'd push me on the swings until I swear I could touch the sky. I missed the way he'd stop pushing and come around in front of me until I had slowed down, and then he'd take the chains of the swing in his big hands and stop the motion so he could kiss me.

But I wasn't going to let those feelings influence my actions, no matter how much I missed my husband. There was so much more at stake here.

Time both dragged and sped by until the next evening when, at precisely five minutes to seven, I stepped into Father Ellis's office and came face to face with my husband.

Copyright © 2024 by GroveltoHEA