Chapter 3

At breakfast, we talked about how we should spend the day. We had no idea when Terry would return, other than his less than informative "after their dinner banquet" comment this morning. It was much too cold to just walk around, or rent bikes, or anything similar touristy outdoor activity. I would have been content to spend the day in a sports bar, but ... the female half of the equation asked if I would accompany her to go clothes shopping.

"I am tired of these ratty, out of style clothes that I have, and if he doesn't care what I do all day, then I am going to go shopping and spend his money!" she said with a surprising air of defiance. "He NEVER lets me spend anything on new clothes."

All I could think was, "Oh boy. Been there, done that. Hang on! Here comes a train wreck." So, we went to the mall. It wasn't like the scene in the movie Pretty Woman, nor was it as expensive as the shops on Rodeo Drive, but we went to an upscale mall with prices to match.

In the first shop, I simply found a chair and sat, waiting patiently while she tried on numerous items. She finally selected one, and as I approached the check out desk, I was much relieved to see her pull out his credit card. I was imagining some magical transference of financial responsibility to me on this excursion, and once I saw his card, I breathed much easier. She skipped by several stores that were too "old" for her and ended up in a boutique specializing in young women's fashions. After seeing some of the prices that were discretely tagged, I concluded that this store specialized in fleecing husbands of their earnings. But, that's the conservative side of me showing through. The softer side understood when she wanted to go to a salon for a "quick makeover". Ok, I said that I would be in the lounge down the hall, and we agreed at a time for me to pick her up at the salon.

The NBA game was just finishing up as I made my way back down the hall from the lounge. Three beers and a steak sandwich had accompanied my afternoon in the pub. I went into the salon to pick up Michelle, found a seat in the waiting area and reflected on what my weekend had turned into. My thoughts were disturbed by the hostess calling me by name to get my attention.

"Mr. Baker." I looked up but said nothing, waiting for her to continue.

"Mr. Baker." She repeated, in a slightly less patient tone. I looked straight at her and she was obviously trying to tell me something with her eyes. I looked quickly down the hall, but looked back at her and then, almost by silent command, looked down the hall again. There stood a beautiful woman who looked slightly familiar, in a gorgeous dress.

I was speechless. There stood Michelle, her hair was no longer mousy brown; it had the soft glow of polished walnut furniture. Her make up was perfect, almost radiant. I really had not recognized her. I didn't want to seem or sound immature, but all I could think of to say was, "Holy cow!" Talk about feeling unsophisticated. That was me at that moment. "You look absolutely beautiful! Why have you been hiding this beauty?" I didn't know what else to say. As she signed the credit card slip, I could not help but notice the five figure total. "Oh, won't Terry be surprised?" I thought to myself.

I gave the young man at the salon a twenty dollar bill and asked him to carry all of her packages to a cab for us. I offered her my arm and we returned to the hotel. As we entered the lobby, the eyes of many of the staff turned toward us, trying to discreetly determine the identity of my newest companion. I don't think any of the staff who had seen her before was successful in making the connection.