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When Danielle went against her usual pallet of bright pastels to buy a cream and taupe patterned top, Annie chalked it up to wardrobe expansion, a much needed wardrobe staple. She and Michael had been dating for close to a year, maybe she was getting it to ‘meet the parents’, it would look cute paired under a cardigan. When Danielle slid into the La Perla dressing room with an armful of cream, taupe, and beige lingerie, however, Annie couldn’t stay silent.
“Danielle?” Annie asked, as she leaned against the door frame of the dressing room, while Danielle changed into a duller than usual ensemble, “Everything alright with you?”
“Of course,” Danielle said and after a moment of rustling fabric, she added, “why?”
Annie bit her lip as she considered how to voice her thoughts and settled on, “I’ve never seen quite so much beige. Especially from you.”
The rustling stopped, there was silence for a moment and then Danielle pushed open the door to ask for Annie’s opinion. Danielle looked pretty in the beige, lace night gown but her personality, usually so evident in her clothing was missing.
“You remember that cream dress I borrowed from you last week? The one with the tan …like pleating on the front?” She drew the outline of the pleating with her finger.
Annie nodded, she did. Danielle had called Annie in a panic. She was already late to meet Michael at his office for a black and white themed work benefit when she spilled her spaghetti dinner all over her white dress, staining it with what looked like blood colored ink blots. Annie had offered up one of her cocktail dresses, one she’d gotten for a steal from White House, Black Market.
“Michael said he loved the color on me. He couldn’t take his eyes off me all night.”
Annie tweaked an eyebrow. It was hard not to remember a time in High School when Danielle had been furious that one of friends had tossed out half a wardrobe of dresses because her ‘boyfriend at the time’ preferred her in jeans.
“Give me all the sass you want now,” Danielle said, her hand rested on a silk covered hip, lip between her teeth, “but one day, Annie Walker you will find a man that you don’t mind modifying a small, little, itsy, bitsy part of your wardrobe for. You might not notice at first. But when you do, you’ll know that you’re in love. Real love.”
Annie rolled her eyes, the day would come when Annie Walker dressed for a man she thought sarcastically. She let it drop with, “How do you feel about this one?” She motioned towards the night gown Danielle currently wore.
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“Are you and Auggie…you know -,” Danielle said bluntly. Her hands were on her hips, as she tweaked an eyebrow.
Annie choked on the sip she had just taken from her glass of red wine, “What?” she exclaimed, “No. No,” she waved her hands out in front of her, “How’d you come up with that?”
Danielle laughed softly, “Really? I’ll admit,” she started, as she leaned against the island the silk of her top snagged against the rough bottom edge, “at first I thought it,” she motioned toward Annie’s rolled up shirt sleeve, “was just a new trend of yours. Like that time in the sixth grade when we moved to Germany and you refused to wear anything that wasn’t particular to Texas.”
Annie rolled her eyes. It had been a difficult time, a tough move, wearing clothes from her old home had helped her feel a little less home sick, helped her miss it just a little less.
“All the jersey cotton and silk tops, the super soft blazers, and jackets with elbow pads, all the three quarter length sleeves, and rolled cuffs and then,” Danielle paused for dramatic effect and took a small sip of wine, “a couple weeks ago, Auggie came here to pick you up for that ‘work thing’,” she made quotes with her manicured fingers around the words, making it clear that she was not convinced that it was a benefit for the Smithsonian that they had gone to.
“He walked to your door and I saw you tap the back of his hand,” Danielle tapped her own hand in demonstration, “and at first I thought you two were holding hands and I was furious that you hadn’t told me you were together,” she quirked an eyebrow pointedly. It caused her nose to wrinkle in a trademark Danielle Brooks, ‘you will tell all look’, “but then I saw the strangest thing.”
Annie almost laughed it was just like Danielle to tell a story with as much flamboyance as was possible.
“He grabbed your arm. Right here,” she shook her fingers at the spot around the crook of Annie’s elbow, “And it looked like something that was second nature between the two of you.”
For not the first time Annie thought that her sister would make a brilliant spy if she hadn’t always wanted love, a family, a white picket fence, and to get as far from any life remotely like the military as possible. Danielle looked at her with a beseeching expression and Annie couldn’t help but confess.
“It is. It’s called a sighted lead.”
“And you care about him.”
Annie tried to dodge, “he’s seeing someone.”
Danielle nodded her head slowly and poured herself more wine, dripping a few drops down the side of the glass, “If he knew how you felt, maybe he wouldn’t be.”
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‘Play up being a rich girl,’ Calder had said and Annie was taking full advantage of it. The boutiques in Vienna were extensive and unique. One of the things Annie loved most about traveling the world was the different cultures and fashions and food.
She was shopping not only for an opera but for a mark. She needed something that was smart and sophisticated, memorable but not too memorable, tantalizing. It wasn’t until she was in the dressing room, until she looked at the wall of dresses she’d chosen to try on that she noticed what she’d done. It was a wall of soft fabrics with interesting cuts and embellishments. Dresses that stood out not just to the eyes but to the touch. Dresses her mind had picked for a cover, for a mark, but that her heart had picked for him.
With a deep breath she tried on the first one, took a long look in the mirror at the close fitting red silk. It fit like a glove with a tapered hemline, and a smooth, draped neckline. With an inner eye role, she closed her eyes and pressed her fingers at the neckline. She traced her hands down the lines of the dress, across her hips, against the line of the back. Even knowing what it looked like, it didn’t feel interesting. The dress was soft, smooth, it slipped through her fingers but the cut didn’t stand out. There were no buttons or grommets to catch the attention of her fingers. She took it off and moved on to the next one.
The next dress was grey and even though she wasn’t crazy about the fit, she traced the lines with her fingers. The lines were a little more intriguing but not by much. The sides were cut down past her ribs but it felt too easy. It felt bored.
The last dress was black. She felt at the exposed zipper, the cut outs that peeked out of the back, the scallops that danced around the neck line. It was not particularly revealing but it was full of surprises and the fabric felt divine. She could imagine Auggie’s hands tracing the same pattern. It felt like he was with her in a small way. A comfort made more prominent by the fact that he was not in her ear for this particular mission.
She might be buying it for a mark but she knows she could not wait to wear it for him.