That morning’s incident with the dress had left Mary flustered. At first she wasn’t sure what to do then she remembered seeing a seamstress when she and her husband Jonathon had last been into town. To say she was surprised to see a man working there would be an understatement. She didn’t think men with a talent for sewing did anything but tailor men’s fashions. She certainly would not be comfortable having a strange man know all of her particulars, especially that man.

To Mary, Nick had come off as mocking, even borderline rude. Despite that she found herself strangely comfortable around him, drawn to him. He seemed like the kind of guy that away from work he could take you out and have fun, unlike the rest of the men in her life. 

Mary’s parents were wealthy, and they lived in Ireland next door to Jonathon’s parents who were not just wealthy; they were elite. Mrs. O’Hara knew from early on that no woman was going to fall in love with her youngest son. He was crass, rude, bull headed, selfish, and had most certainly scraped the bottom of the barrel in the gene pool when it came down to looks. They were quick to notice the pretty little girl next-door and just as quick to make an irresistible offer to her parents. Mary would come with them to America, she could grow up attending the finest schools and when she came of age she would marry Jonathon.

The offer seemed too good to be true; Mary’s room and board would be paid for, she’d become a part of a fine family, and would someday have a little piece of the O’Hara’s fortune. Before she could even protest Mary found herself packing, for the long voyage to America, with the promise of a better life. Better, it was not. Mary attended school for three years after arriving in Greenwich, Connecticut with the O’Hara’s. During those years she was tortured verbally by the other children for her funny accent. She began to talk without it and lost a fair amount of it, but a few words and pronunciations always got away from her.

Home life was even worse.

Sheila O’Hara was getting anxious for Jonathon to get married. He’d gotten a position working at a bank and bachelors didn’t get invited to a lot of social events. In Sheila’s opinion, Mary only need know how to read a recipe card and count out the milk money. As soon as she could she pulled Mary out of school and planned a wedding. By thirteen she was married, they had Mary lying about her age (Jonathon knew that is coworkers would not approve of a girl so young) and mysteriously Mary’s parents never said a thing about their daughter’s sudden nuptials. Sheila had thrown an extra thousand pounds in their direction for the early marriage. That was nearly four years ago. Mary thought that she and Jonathon would move onto their own lives after the wedding but he had different plans. He was not interested in Mary for anything more than a date to work functions. He had not, much to her joy, even tried to consummate their marriage.

Sheila, on the other hand, was now anxious for grandchildren. Her husband had died the previous year so she lived with her son and his wife, trying to encourage the girl to do her wifely duties. She even tried to bribe Mary, making Jonathon buy her expensive things (like the now damaged dress) to try to get her to love Jonathon enough to get pregnant. Children were the next logical step up the social ladder.

The only things Jonathon cared about were money and work. You have to work, to get more money. He was ridiculously cheap, like many wealthy people, and could not in his mind justify giving Mary expensive gifts. He didn’t trust her with the spoils of his hard work so he locked all of her presents in a closet, only unlocking it when they had to go out so she would look rich to all of his friends. He told her he was just worried about spills or tears on her nice dresses and was afraid the maids might steal them from her closet.

Being young and naïve, Mary bought his story but only for a short while. She quickly saw through his lies, she learned to pick locks and she played dress up for hours in his precious frocks. The house, of course, had to be empty for this kind of play. On that day it had been, and she had paraded around in the most precious of them all – a dress handmade for her in France by a woman whose name she chose to forget.

She was dancing with her shadow in the foyer when the sound of keys in the front door made her realize she’d lost track of time and Sheila was back from tea. Mary had bolted for the stairs, making it to the last step when she heard the tear. She ran to her room and grabbed one of her housedresses, using all her strength to tear it near the hem. She changed and hid the silk dress in her bag then explained to Sheila that she’d ripped her favourite housedress and was going to have it fixed. Though she didn’t question it, Sheila silently wondered why Mary couldn’t fix a simple cotton dress herself, but the thought didn’t linger long.

Mary checked the time, nearly three, and decided to go see if the dress was done, partly because she was anxious to return it and partly because she was curious to see the shop owner again.

~*~

The door chimed brightly, announcing the arrival of a customer. Nick left what he was doing and walked to the front, mildly surprised to see Mary standing in front of the counter.

“You’re a little early,” he said, checking his pocket watch (the only family heirloom he would ever inherit completely non-business related).

“I know,” Mary said apologetically, “I just got anxious so I thought I would come see how it was going.” 

She took him in as he stood before her, not realizing the last time she’d come just how good looking he was. Tall, tan, blond hair, blue eyes, he was simply a vision of aesthetic perfection. That being said, after looking at Jonathon all of the time, anyone would look great. He truly was attractive though and there was something about him, something she couldn’t place. She thought for a moment of all the romance novels she’d secretly read, having taken them from one of the maids when looking for reading material one day. They described her feeling the best. Nick stirred something inside of her. The something she’d been thinking of, of course, was sex. She found him incredibly sexy. Maybe it was the firm way he spoke to her, (as if she was not a young lady but a mature woman) that she knew she wanted him to walk over and tear her clothes off. Just like in all the books. 

Nick watched her carefully as she drifted away in thought. He took the moment to look her over, just as she had done to him. He couldn’t deny he liked her body, and found her all around attractive but couldn’t get over how young she looked. He blushed; embarrassed for thinking about her like that when she was probably only worried about the status of her dress. 

“I actually just finished,” Nick said, breaking the silence and a bit of the sexual tension, “You ripped it good.”

“I’m just glad you could fix it,” Mary said in a relieved voice. 

Nick went into the back quickly and retrieved the dress, smiling at her excitement over his work.

“It’s perfect, thank you!” Mary said as she took out money to pay. Nick pretended not to be shocked by the amount of bills in her wallet and accepted her payment graciously. 

As the bell chimed on her way out the door Nick could only hope it was not long before he saw Mary O’Hara again. 

~*~