Daily Theme #12
The room was well lit from the sun streaming in through the open French doors. A slight breeze caught the cream colored curtains draped along both sides of the doorframe, causing the light fabric to dance on the air. I sat down on the pink damask chaise lounge. The marble floor sparkled as if it had just been polished. It cooled my bare feet as I traced my big toe around each mottled tile. A petal pink rotary phone sat in the center of the lounge’s side table, flanked by a bouquet of hydrangea in a crystal vase. I settled into the cushions of the lounge and felt a soft cashmere throw tickle my bare shoulders. My eyes scanned the room, feeling comforted by the utter simplicity and order that was maintained.
Ms. Darcy was seated across from me on a matching pink couch. She lifted her left leg, crossing it over her right and suspending her suede loafer in the air. She reached over to smooth a wrinkle on a pillow beside her and patted the cushion to invite Basil, her Kerry Blue Terrier, onto the couch. The smooth, unobstructed lines of Ms. Darcy’s long fingers glided through his coat as he sunk into the nook between the two cushions. I noticed not one strand of his curly hair escape the mass of lush coat as Ms. Darcy stroked his head. The glass-topped coffee table between us presented a flute of champagne with sparkling bubbles and a glass of ice water, which Ms. Darcy requested on account of the heat. As I sipped the water, playing with the ice tapping my two front teeth, I noticed rows of ornately framed photos of Ms. Darcy, Basil, the stunning ocean view outside her Nantucket home, and black and white photos of her as a WWII WASP, proudly posing next to B-26 bombers. Ms. Darcy smiled brightly in each photo. I looked back over at the old woman, her once blonde hair now thin and gray, tightly bound in a tortoise shell clip. The bookshelf behind her housed neatly organized, alphabetical rows with titles relating to aviation and good breeding of the Kerry Blue, along with Oliver Twist, Moby-Dick, The Tempest and Sense and Sensibility.
A few leaves from the pristinely shaped privet hedges outside skipped across the floor in front me, ushered in by the incessant breeze. Ms. Darcy gracefully shifted Basil to the left to give her room to get up. She stiffly stood and walked over to the tiny green leaves that sat on the carpet. The scent of Chanel perfume surrounded her as she passed in front of me, leaving behind a subtle whisper of Jasmine. Bending over to reach the leaves, I saw a rather large but tasteful diamond slip from within her blouse and fall beneath her chin. It swung rhythmically, soaking in the evening sunlight and reveling in its own beauty.
She walked back towards the coach but didn’t sit back down. She picked up a white envelope addressed “Ms. Darcy” that was left on a silver tray at the edge of the coffee table. She opened it and slowly stroked the textured edges as a serene smile spread to her cheeks. The warm glow on Ms. Darcy’s face smoothed the lines of her wrinkled face. I could faintly see a phone number with a New York area code. Ms. Darcy chuckled and folded the paper into perfect quarters before placing it gently inside of her skirt pocket. She turned to me.
“So young lady, what would you like to know about? The planes or the boys?” she asked, her eyes laughing just as they had in 1942.
