Days of Winter by Cynthia Freeman

hand and led her back to the bedroom. She watched as he carefully appraised each garment as though it were a matter of state. He picked up the simple mauve chiffon dress with the niching around the neck. It was pretty, she thought, but so sweet and unadorned, especially to meet the Countess for the first time. As he spread the dress across the chair she looked at the full, bouffant sleeves, tight at the wrists, trimmed with the same niching. Then she had second thoughts …Perhaps it was chic. After all, Rubin had selected it.
    Opening a shoe box, he took out silk pumps in the same color and placed them on the floor. Next were the hose, soft, fawn-colored, and last the heavy strand of pearls with a diamond clasp, which Rubin had selected in only moments at Cartier. When the salesman had handed them to her for her approval, she thought they seemed no different from the ones sold at any cheap shop … except the price, which staggered her.
    “Now, please dress. The Countess will be here in half an hour. And wear the pink satin slip.”
    “Oh, Rubin, what would I do without you?”
    He smiled and thought, we won’t think about that now.
    She had just enough time to stand in front of him, hoping he would approve of her hair, carefully arranged now on top of her head, though she nervously toyed with the tendrils, which hung in front of her ears.
    Holding her at arms’ length he said, “You are ravissante !”
    “Am I, Rubin? Oh, thank you, darling.”
    The sound of the bell almost went unheard. Only “darling” pealed joyously in Rubin’s head. It was the first time she’d called him that, and it had seemed to come so spontaneously, so naturally.
    Mignon was opening the door and saying, almost with reverence, “ Bon soir, Comtesse. ” She curtsied. The Countess nodded and walked across the marble foyer to the salon, where a nervous Magda and delighted Rubin awaited the arrival of their distinguished guest. Rubin embraced her, kissing her on both cheeks. “You look better than ever, Solange.”
    “And you are the same enchanting rogue, dear Rubin, who almost makes a woman believe it.” She smiled with a twinkle in her eye.
    Magda watched these two old friends who were so at ease. The Countess was positively regal, though she had to be very old … at least forty-five. But her skin was so youthful, without a wrinkle or blemish, like pure porcelain. The whiteness was startling as Magda watched the ruby-red lips move in speech. Her cheekbones were high and delicately tinted with blush; one could scarcely detect that the color was not natural. Her sloe-shaped eyes, fringed with black lashes, could still affect men. What added to it all was the startlingly burnished red hair, above which sat a black silk turban trimmed with egret feathers. Around her long slender neck was carefully, yet casually, draped a scarf of sables. The black taffeta gown had a rich iridescent texture. The only adornment the Countess wore was a large diamond brooch.
    When the Countess released the clasp of the sables, Magda watched fascinated as the skins fell softly to her side. Removing her long white kid gloves, the Countess did not take her eyes from this petite poupée of Rubin Hack’s. Not one detail went unnoticed. Before Rubin could make the introductions, the Countess said, “Well, dear boy, your description was more than adequate, if nothing else. She is as you described.”
    “Darling, may I introduce Solange, Countess Boulard?”
    “ Enchanté, ” Magda answered softly. She felt as though she were being weighed by the pound.
    “And you are Magda,” the Countess responded. In their chat the day before, Rubin had said Magda’s name over and over. She was incredible, more than the countess had expected …Men in love were always blind; the eye of the beholder dazzled …Bravo, Rubin, she thought. With this one you were quite accurate. What an exciting challenge she would be! This little sparrow could be turned into a radiant white