The Runaway Bride

Fourteen

XIV: Pearls

THE NEXT MORNING, Simone walked to work feeling particularly happy. The light breeze didn't bother her this morning like it usually did. Instead of being upset it ruined her chignon, she pulled out the pin that held it all together, letting her hair tumble down to the center of her shoulder-blades. The River Falls residents, friendly as ever, waving and tipped their hats at her. Same as every morning. But today, Simone found herself smiling back. 

When she got to the clinic, she sat her thermo down on her desk and slipped on her lab coat. While she was busy fastening the buttons, Simone heard the door open and looked behind herself to see Rosie walk in.

"Here are your appointments."

"Good morning, Rosie," Simone said amicably with a bright smile. "Thank you, go ahead and set those down on the desk."

Rosie gave her a strange look but did as she said anyway. Just as was about to leave, Simone said, "I like your sweater."

Rosie froze and regarded Simone with a guarded look. "Are you trying to be funny?"

"No," Simone said simply, her smile wavering. "I really do like it. It's a lovely color, the color of burnt roses." 

Rosie eyes swept up Simone's body, her gaze taking in the other woman's tastefully tailored pale pink trousers and the thin fabric of her white blouse beneath her dove grey sweater.  "It's not designer or anything."

"It suits you." Simone walked forward, stopping in her tracks when she was directly in front of Rosie. In her nude pumps, Simone was the same height as the younger woman. "Although I do admit all it needs is an accessory. A necklace maybe, something big but not excessive. Just the right amount of 'statement' in statement necklace."

Rosie's eyes hardened at her words and she pulled away, her usual scowl back on her face. "Well, I don't own anything like that."

Simone stepped back, wincing a little at the bite in her words. A hand came up to her neck in surprise, the change in Rose had been so drastic that it'd startled her a little. 

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to--" Simone said as her  hand unconsciously curled around her necklace. Then she stopped herself mid-sentence. "Here, try this."

"No thanks, I don't need your scraps," she responded sarcastically, but Simone had already eased off the latch. 

"These," Simone said with a light tone, trying to get Rosie's guard down. "are not scraps."  

Simone moved around the girl and gently moved her long, brown hair out of the way to fasten the necklace. "These are an heirloom. They are my grandmother's pearls, and they date as far back as the 1922, when Alfred William Mercer gave them to his young, blushing bride-to-be." 

She stepped back to look at Rosie and smiled. Her grandmother had given her the pearls when she'd announced she was marrying Maxton. It was tradition. The next Mercer bride always wore Elsbeth Mercer's pearls. "You wear them well."

And she wasn't lying. The pearls had looked lovely on Simone's wedding day. They complemented her Vera Wang dress perfectly, the pearls. They had been the perfect Something Old Simone could have ever asked for. But Rosie looked well with them, too. There was something about pearls and dark brown hair, it worked well. Like the softest of contrastes. 

Simone had looked lovely, she was vain enough to admit as much. But she was also vain enough to see her flaws. She was like vanilla ice cream on a vanilla cone. Good but plain. Boring, even. The pearls had looked lovely, but she hadn't looked stunning. And looking at Rosie now, Simone couldn't help but picture another brunette wearing Granny Elsbeth's pearls.