Page 66 of The Maid's Secret

After many change room visits and an equal number of insults hurled by Mama at various shopkeepers, we landed on a look that worked.

“Thoughts?” I asked Mama as I emerged from the fitting room in a poodle skirt and a cashmere sweater.

“Flirty and fresh,” said Mama. “And my, my, how that V-neck becomes you.”

“Accentuate the positive, eliminate the negative. Isn’t that what you always say?”

“Have you been listening to me all this time? Come, darling. Let’s max out your father’s store credit.”

At long last it was Saturday. Mama helped me pin-curl my hair and perfect my rouge. Then at 8:15p.m., fashionably late, the doorbell rang. Algernon stood on the threshold in front of my parents, Uncle Willy, and me. He was wearing a leather bomber jacket, and true to his word, he’d driven his sky-blue convertible, complete with chrome tailfins, right to the manor door.

“It’s customary to turn off the ignition upon arrival to a manor house,” Uncle Willy suggested as he approached the entry.

“Boys will be boys,” said Papa, offering Algernon a hearty handshake and a clap on the back.

Algernon greeted my parents, then turned to me.

“Wowzer,” he said to my mother. “She looks good enough to eat.”

“Now, now. Just a nibble,” said Mama.

After a bit of small talk, Algernon agreed to have me home before midnight. “I’d never let a girl this pretty turn into a pumpkin,” he said.

“We won’t wait up. We know she’s in good hands,” said Papa.

Algernon led me to his car as my parents and Uncle Willy stood vigil.

“Say hello to your folks for us!” Papa called out.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” said Algernon. “They want you to drop by for a whiskey tasting next Tuesday. But beware—Prissy and Mags love to show off their art. My mother is a bona fide collector, and my father goes on and on about color and shadow. You’ll need the whiskey to get through it!”

“Tell them we’d be delighted,” said Mama.

“We look forward to it!” Papa added.

And before I knew it, I was in the passenger seat of a blue convertible, driving down the highway with Algernon Braun by my side. Everything—every last detail—was just as I’d imagined it. Until it wasn’t.

—

We were nearing the drive-in as the sun began to set. Algernon entertained me the entire ride over, telling me stories about his college friends and the high jinks they got up to in their dorm. He said he wasn’t returning to school. “Apparently, they don’t want me back. Plus, I’m not cut out for it.” The wind tousled his blond hair.

“I know what you mean,” I replied, because for the first time in my life, education seemed dull in comparison to the young rebel beside me with only one hand on the steering wheel and the other poisedbetween our seats just inches from my knee. Every now and again, Algernon’s eyes would leave the road to drink me in.

“I can’t get enough of you,” he said. “If we don’t park soon, I’ll cause an accident.”

I couldn’t help but blush. Every word that spilled from his mouth was a tantalizing elixir designed to make me feel special and wanted and beautiful. By the time we pulled into the drive-in, I was giddy and lightheaded.

“Where should we park?” he asked.

“Up front?” I suggested. “I’m one of those girls who sits close to the blackboard.”

“Of course you are,” he said. “But this isn’t class, Miss Flora. And anyway, how much of the movie are you planning to watch?”

He pulled into a spot at the back of the lot and jumped out of the car to put the top up on the convertible.

“Come on,” he said once he was done. “Let’s hit the concession stand.”

He took me by the hand and led me through rows of cars to the front of the lot. Several times, I jumped at the sound of a car horn honking—yet another friend of Algernon’s trying to get his attention. We stopped a total of six times to say hi to this couple or that one, all of them asking who his cute new girlfriend was while inside I secretly screamed with joy.

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