When Jonathon came home one afternoon, seemingly ecstatic, Mary knew that something good had happened at work. He’d been promoted to assistant bank manager. The bank was even going to throw a party in his favour to celebrate. Sheila was the only one to notice how odd it was that her young daughter-in-law became very excited at the news. She seemed almost giddy about the party when normally she would not have cared. 

“What are you so happy about?” Sheila asked suspiciously. 

“Oh, nothing,” Mary replied coyly, “I was just thinking that with this promotion party I’ll have to get something new.”

”Like...”

“Like a new dress! Maybe I’ll have one made; a special occasion deserves a special dress.” Mary grinned, excited about the prospect. Not of the new dress but of the dress’ maker. She knew that Nick could avoid her no more so as soon as she could Mary went down to the dress shop, to inquire about her dress. But much to her disappointment it was Robert at the counter when she arrived.

She looked around him, trying not to hide the fact that she was looking for someone else. 

“Is there anything I can help you with?” Robert finally asked once the girl had stopped searching the room. 

“I’m looking for Nick,” she got straight to the point.

“He’s not working today, he’s feeling a little under the weather,” Robert explained, “I’m sure I can help you with whatever it is.”

He couldn’t, Mary needed Nick. He fuelled her fantasies. A substitute dressmaker, no matter how similar they were in looks, would just not do. She thought quickly, not wanting to offend the man. 

“It’s not that,” she began, still working out her excuse in his head. “I’m a friend of his. He said I could…uh…borrow…a record! Yes, he said I could borrow a record!” One thing she had remembered about the times she’d come in was the jazz playing in the background. She quickly learned and committed to memory that Nick loved jazz. 

“A friend?” Robert asked quite surprised. First of all he knew that Nick didn’t own any records, nor did he even have a record player. He listened to the radio when he worked. As well, his son was not known for his social skills so for him to have someone calling, especially someone of the female persuasion was out of the ordinary. Who was he though, to not embrace his son’s sudden talent for friend making? This was something he’d wished for his only child, “I am sure he won't mind if you went up.”

Mary froze; she was only looking for a way out. She hadn’t realized that the shop was in their house, or that their house was in the shop. Either way, she was torn deciding whether it would be safe to take her obsession straight into Nick’s living room or whether she should reserve it for dressmaking. The decision, as it turns out, was not a difficult one to make. 

“That would be great! Thank you!” 

Robert showed her to a set of stairs that lead to the top floor of the building. It crossed her mind as she climbed the steps that her intruding on his personal time might upset Nick. She quietly opened the doors, which lead straight into their kitchen. She could hear the faint sound of the radio, followed by a sneeze, so she knew he was awake. She found him sitting on the chesterfield in the living room. Music playing softly in the background he sat in a pair of dark gray long johns, covered by a colourful afghan, reading a very thick, very serious, looking book. She worried about startling him since he seemed so at peace. Thinking it would be best to whisper, she quietly said his name.

Nick shot straight up, not expecting anyone to be in the room much less Mary O’Hara. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, feeling very exposed in just his long underwear. 

“Your father let me in,” she answered, having expected a severe reaction from him, “I said I was a friend of yours.”

“You WHAT?” Nick exploded, jumping from the couch. Sure to keep the blanket in front of him modestly he wagged his finger at the girl, “This has gone too far! At first I thought you were being sweet, that turned to borderline obsessive, and now you’re stalking me at home! What is it that you want from me? I’ll fix every rip in your entire wardrobe but I draw the line at you going around saying you’re my friend!” 

It had been a bad idea to come, Mary now realized. Somewhere in her overactive imagination she had imagined things going much differently. Men in her books would never yell at the heroine. 

“Why not, what’s wrong with me?” she pleaded with tears in her eyes, not knowing why he was so angry at the thought of them being friends when he didn’t seem to have any anyway. 

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Nick sighed and ran a hand through his hair as he sat back down, “That’s what the problem is, you’re a beautiful young girl, emphasis on young, you’re also married. Do you honestly believe that people would accept that we were friends and nothing more?”

“You think I’m beautiful?” she asked with a blush, completely disregarding the seriousness of his question.

Nick sighed again and motioned for her to sit down in an armchair. Once she had he cut straight to the chase, “How old are you?”

“Sixteen,” Mary replied honestly.

Hearing her speak the words made it all the more frightening for Nick. He had assumed she was young but had also left open the possibility that she merely looked younger than her years. He was right, on both counts. 

“I’m twenty-six,” he said, searching for a way to not hurt her feelings with his next revelation, “There’s no way we can be friends. A girl your age can’t have a man my age as a friend. People will talk; they’ll assume we’re having an affair. That could ruin your marriage and my business.”

“We’ll just tell them we’re only friends,” Mary suggested as if it were a simple solution. 

Nick couldn’t help but smile at her pure innocence, “It doesn’t work that way. Telling people the opposite of what they want to believe only fuels the rumours. The only way people would accept that we were completely platonic would be if…I was a co-worker, or a teacher or something.”

“Then I’ll come and work here!”

Nick was quick to firmly shake his head, “No way! First, we’re not looking for anyone. Second, you’re a young girl who should be in school, not working.”

Mary thought about his reasoning, knowing he was probably right. She only wished she could be like girls her age, in school gossiping about boys and fashion while playing field hockey in her spare time. Things were not that way though and no matter how Nick spun it she was still lonely. She didn’t want the company of just anyone she wanted his. 

“What if…” she held her hand to her mouth in thought, “I was to hire you too teach me how to sew?”

“I’m not for sale.”

“I didn’t mean you were! You said people would accept you as my teacher! Teach me how to sew. I’ve got no one here. You’re the only person I know,” she was swiftly interrupted by his soft but firm tone.

“You don’t know me.”

“I know,” she resumed, “I want to. Judging by your father’s reaction I’m going to assume you don’t really have friends either. All I want is some company; I haven’t been able to meet anyone else who even speaks to me like I’m human.”

He could almost hear the walls of resistance crumbling down around him. He felt sorry for the poor girl feeling completely alone, and he could feel sorry because he knew exactly how she felt. 

“All right, I’ll do it but you’d better be prepared to actually learn how to sew! I don’t plan on sitting around chatting like a couple of old ladies having a tea party. You’ll have to get your own sewing machine, and you are paying for materials. Please don’t make me regret this,” he warned.

Mary had never in her life been happier. She would no longer have to rip her clothes, and find excuses to go into town because she was getting lessons! She let out a girlish giggle and ran over to hug Nick tightly. 

He couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm.

~*~

Mary was so excited about her sewing lessons that she wasted no time in talking to Jonathon about them. As much as she disliked it, he still had to give the okay on the idea. 

“Did you sort out your business about the dress for the party?” Sheila asked as she cut a tiny piece of roast beef on her plate. 

The truth was, Mary had completely forgotten to mention it to Nick, “Yes, and while I was there I found out that the owner gives lessons in sewing! I thought it would be a great idea and would save money on tailoring! It would be a very valuable skill to have, I think,” Mary didn’t mind lying; in fact she found it fun since they always fell for her stories. 

“I didn’t realize Robert Carter gave lessons,” Sheila said sceptically. Before Mary had the chance to tell her who the real teacher was, Jonathon chimed in with his surprising support. 

“I think it’s a great idea! I know for a fact that the bank manager’s wife, Helen Lawson, also has an interest in sewing! We’ll have to find you a top of the line machine!”

Money and networking were the name of Jonathon’s game so as long as Mary’s new hobby made him more interesting and kept her distracted he was fine with it. He couldn’t be bothered with trying to entertain her and was tired of her complaints of boredom. 

If sewing was what it took to shut her up then she could sew to her heart’s content. 

Everything seemed to be working out perfectly. In Mary’s mind, everything she wanted was playing directly into her hand. She could tell that Sheila was not entirely convinced. Jonathon may be gullible but his mother was not. She always expected the worst, never believed anyone had good intentions and was just generally pessimistic. Mary’s sudden interest in sewing, for instance, was something that she just couldn’t seem to grasp. No one got that excited about learning to sew. It was a chore, after all and O’Hara’s did not get excited about chores. 

The dinner conversation around the table then turned to politics (Jonathon named the topics then was sure to tell you how wrong you were on the matter). Sheila momentarily forgot about Mary’s new hobby while they talked about the President, and where he was taking the country. In her seat Mary could not stop thinking of Nick, and her lessons and wondered when they would begin. 

She knew she could only expect to be learning about thread and other such things but she couldn’t help holding out for the thought that things would continue to go exactly as she wanted. She wanted Nick to like her back; she wanted her romantic fairytale and most of all she wanted to feel needed, wanted and loved.