miracles.
Oh, no! she thought. But the face just kept smiling.
Brice looked away, feeling a little terrified as well as thrilled.
“Ready for a walk?” Damien asked as he signed the bill. There was nothing so vulgar as an exchange of money or plastic. “Or shall I call for the car? A meal like that can be as effective as a dose of Nembutal.”
Normally, Brice would agree, but not that night. She, like the girl in the mirror, felt energized and wanted to walk off some of her dietary excess. “A walk would be lovely, but I’m afraid the best I can manage is a waddle. Do you still want to be seen with me now that I’ve gained twenty pounds?”
“Of course. Put on a coat and no one will suspect there is a petit cochon underneath.”
“I hope not. There are probably laws about pigs roaming the street at will.” She smiled and said sincerely: “That was delicious—thank you.”
Antonio appeared before Damien could answer, bearing their coats and many best wishes for their evening and for their swift return to his restaurant. Damien allowed him the good wishes, but opted to help Brice into her coat himself. His hands lingered a moment at her shoulders, stroking the cashmere of her dress. She would guess that he was a sensualist as well as a gourmet.
“Where shall we go?” Brice asked as they stepped out into the snow, which wasn’t yet deep enough to be a hindrance. But once outside, she was again bothered by the idea that the weather was laughing at her.
“We are quite close to Macy’s in Herald Square. Have you ever seen the windows at Christmas?” Damien asked.
Feeling like a kid offered the world’s biggest lollipop, Brice answered: “No. I’ve never been to the city at Christmas before. Though, of course I’ve seen Miracle on 34th Street many times.”
As soon as the words escaped her mouth, she wondered if the wine was making her silly. But Damien merely seemed pleased by her answer. Perhaps he was feeling a bit tipsy too. Certainly he looked younger and happier than he had only a few hours before.
“The windows are worth a look. And if you are interested in architecture, the old wooden escalators are still operational down in the basement. The original marble floors are still there too. The sound is fascinating—like nothing else you’ve ever heard in a department store.”
They strolled only half a block and encountered a dazzled crowd gathered outside of Macy’s in spite of the falling snow. Brice thought Damien had rather understated things. The windows at Macy’s were absolute wonderlands of color and whimsy that made her lust for things she wouldn’t need on January second, but wanted just the same.
Seeing her delight in the bright displays, he obligingly peered in every one and even offered to take her up to Santaland so she could speak with the head elf himself about her newly discovered wants and needs.
Brice actually considered it for one moment, but then she decided she had behaved enough like a tourist for one night—which she said to Damien. She also figured that the sorts of wants and needs currently on her mind would shock the dear old elf—which she didn’t say to her host. Damien shook his head at her refusal and laughed in his peculiar, quiet way. He said she should be a tourist for just a while longer and they would go see the iceskating rink and Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center.
“And you must see Prometheus . It’s my favorite statue in the city. We go back a long way.”
Suddenly the hair of her nape lifted. Brice caught a glimpse of something—someone—of odd posture and proportions reflected in the dazzling window. The shape seemed to be stalking toward them. She spun about hurriedly, but nothing was there and no one unusual was nearby.
“What is it?” Damien asked, stepping protectively in front of her and scanning the crowds around them.
“Nothing. I think I was anticipating a pickpocket. Or maybe the ghost of Christmas past sneaking up on me.
Oh, no! she thought. But the face just kept smiling.
Brice looked away, feeling a little terrified as well as thrilled.
“Ready for a walk?” Damien asked as he signed the bill. There was nothing so vulgar as an exchange of money or plastic. “Or shall I call for the car? A meal like that can be as effective as a dose of Nembutal.”
Normally, Brice would agree, but not that night. She, like the girl in the mirror, felt energized and wanted to walk off some of her dietary excess. “A walk would be lovely, but I’m afraid the best I can manage is a waddle. Do you still want to be seen with me now that I’ve gained twenty pounds?”
“Of course. Put on a coat and no one will suspect there is a petit cochon underneath.”
“I hope not. There are probably laws about pigs roaming the street at will.” She smiled and said sincerely: “That was delicious—thank you.”
Antonio appeared before Damien could answer, bearing their coats and many best wishes for their evening and for their swift return to his restaurant. Damien allowed him the good wishes, but opted to help Brice into her coat himself. His hands lingered a moment at her shoulders, stroking the cashmere of her dress. She would guess that he was a sensualist as well as a gourmet.
“Where shall we go?” Brice asked as they stepped out into the snow, which wasn’t yet deep enough to be a hindrance. But once outside, she was again bothered by the idea that the weather was laughing at her.
“We are quite close to Macy’s in Herald Square. Have you ever seen the windows at Christmas?” Damien asked.
Feeling like a kid offered the world’s biggest lollipop, Brice answered: “No. I’ve never been to the city at Christmas before. Though, of course I’ve seen Miracle on 34th Street many times.”
As soon as the words escaped her mouth, she wondered if the wine was making her silly. But Damien merely seemed pleased by her answer. Perhaps he was feeling a bit tipsy too. Certainly he looked younger and happier than he had only a few hours before.
“The windows are worth a look. And if you are interested in architecture, the old wooden escalators are still operational down in the basement. The original marble floors are still there too. The sound is fascinating—like nothing else you’ve ever heard in a department store.”
They strolled only half a block and encountered a dazzled crowd gathered outside of Macy’s in spite of the falling snow. Brice thought Damien had rather understated things. The windows at Macy’s were absolute wonderlands of color and whimsy that made her lust for things she wouldn’t need on January second, but wanted just the same.
Seeing her delight in the bright displays, he obligingly peered in every one and even offered to take her up to Santaland so she could speak with the head elf himself about her newly discovered wants and needs.
Brice actually considered it for one moment, but then she decided she had behaved enough like a tourist for one night—which she said to Damien. She also figured that the sorts of wants and needs currently on her mind would shock the dear old elf—which she didn’t say to her host. Damien shook his head at her refusal and laughed in his peculiar, quiet way. He said she should be a tourist for just a while longer and they would go see the iceskating rink and Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center.
“And you must see Prometheus . It’s my favorite statue in the city. We go back a long way.”
Suddenly the hair of her nape lifted. Brice caught a glimpse of something—someone—of odd posture and proportions reflected in the dazzling window. The shape seemed to be stalking toward them. She spun about hurriedly, but nothing was there and no one unusual was nearby.
“What is it?” Damien asked, stepping protectively in front of her and scanning the crowds around them.
“Nothing. I think I was anticipating a pickpocket. Or maybe the ghost of Christmas past sneaking up on me.
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