Southern Justice, Part 30

I’m Fixin’ To present part 30 of Southern Justice:

Patty Osborn had to arise early Saturday morning because the exclusive salon where she had been trying to get an appointment had had a cancellation and wanted her there in 30 minutes.

She received an exquisite shoulder-length hair cut with muted gold highlights. She was also squeezed in for a manicure.

Shopping was next on her list. She found a little black dress at Neiman Marcus, which was marked down 20 percent. It was an Ellen Tracy. She was determined not to scrimp on anything, so the matching shoes and handbag she picked up at Saks were from Ferragamo.

After those purchases she found a free makeup artist in the cosmetics department.

That night she was startled when she observed her reflection in the mirror. She had new hair, a new face and was wearing a new outfit and was far from being sorry for her splurging.

When she arrived at the Ritz Carlton the motor lobby was jammed with BMW’s, Mercedes and Jaguars, so she turned right and drove her smoky old Honda into the self-parking lot in the rear of the hotel.

She was feeling nervous, having second thoughts and rapidly loosing confidence as she walked through the hotel lobby, but quickly composed herself and regained confidence when she began to notice the heads turning as she walked through.

Patty had been planning this night for a very long time. After all the years of sacrifice, the tedious law school, the degrading work with B. Wendell Hormel, and not having a life, but now that was all going to change. She had her license to practice law in Georgia, her employer would soon be a part of her past, and now, as if by magic at just the right time, a perfect man had arrived to help her celebrate her new life.

Halfway through the lobby a heart stopping thought crept into her mind—what if he wasn’t there? She knew her old look was not designed to attract the opposite sex. What if Chris Adams had just been being nice to her on the phone?

More heads turned and there were nods and smiles as she continued across the lobby, and her confidence had reached a new level as she walked into the bar, her eyes searching.

Unlike Patty, Chris Adams had awakened late Saturday morning. As he stretched in bed he could feel the soreness in muscles he hadn’t used in a while. A long, hot shower cured the aches. In front of the mirror he used a cotton ball to apply peroxide to last night’s wounds, then he dressed casually and was off to work. He returned home mid-afternoon, took a nap, awakened a little before six o’clock, showered again and got dressed. A turtleneck covered the worst of the scratches he had received from the high hedge row. After donning a double-breasted blue blazer, he was off to meet the ugly duckling.

The lobby bar at the Ritz was crowded as usual, so Chris had to hang out a while until a bar stool came open. When it did he slid onto it and decided he needed a good and strong drink.

After receiving a frosty glass of Crown Royal on the rocks, he stirred it and had just lifted it to his lips when he looked up and saw what he considered a gorgeous woman in a little black dress staring directly at him. Just my luck, he thought, I’m here to meet a plain Jane, and now here’s a living doll staring straight at me.

Then she began walking directly toward him as a dazzling smile spread across her pretty face. His breath caught in his throat. Her hair was the color of honey with subtle highlights. The combination of the precision hair cut and the overhead lights caused it to catch reflections almost like a halo.

Her lips were a tawny rose, wet, full and shining. The little black dress clung to her hourglass figure while his eyes did the same. Suddenly, she was there standing next to him. Then she reached out and touched his arm and said, “Hello, Chris!”

He was still sitting on the stool, and with her standing their eyes were level with each other. Those brown eyes. He didn’t know her, but he knew those eyes. No, he thought, it couldn’t be, but yes, it was her eyes!

“Are you okay?” she asked.

Finally, he could speak. “No. No, I’m definitely not okay. Is-is that you in there, Patty?’

“Of course it’s me. Who did you think it would be?”

“What are you, some kind of Cinderella, or something?”