“Leave that to me,” he said mysteriously. He knew a lot more about clothes than she did. He had been paying for women's wardrobes for years, and selecting them for them when they didn't know how. It was one of his many skills. And he was generous to a fault.
“If you buy something, I'll pay for it,” she reminded him. She had no intention of becoming a kept woman. And unlike the other women he had gone out with, she was perfectly able to pay for her own extravagances, and intended to do so. But she appreciated his offer to find something for her.
She fell asleep that night dreaming of being at a ball, and wearing an enormous gown that swirled around her as she danced and danced with a handsome prince who looked just like Coop. He was the handsome prince. And she was beginning to feel like a fairy princess. The fact that one of the townsfolk was having his baby didn't seem to matter to her at all.
“I really do feel like Cinderella,” she said as she modeled it for him. He had also hired a hairdresser and makeup artist, to do her hair and makeup. And in order to save time, she dressed at his place.
She arrived from the hospital in scrubs, and three hours later, she emerged. Presto magic, a fairy princess. Better than that. She looked like a young queen as she came down the stairs from the master bedroom. He was waiting for her in the front hall, and he beamed when he saw her. She looked elegant and beautiful and very striking. She looked every inch the aristocrat she was, and when she looked in the mirror, she was surprised to see that she was reminded of her mother. Her mother had gone to balls dressed like that when Alex was a little girl. She even remembered a blue dress a little like it. But even her mother had never owned sapphires like the ones Coop had borrowed from Van Cleef and Arpels. They were enormous, and they suited Alex to perfection.
“Wow!” he said, and then bowed when he saw her. He was wearing one of the many dinner jackets he owned, that he had made by his tailor in London. He was wearing perfect patent leather pumps, and sapphire studs and cuff links that were his own, and not borrowed. They had been the gift of a Saudi princess, whose father had banished her to God knows where, rather than let her marry Coop. Coop often said that she had been sold into white slavery rather than allowed to become Mrs. Winslow. It made a good story, and the sapphire studs and links were very impressive. “You look incredible, my love,” he said, as they exited together.
Nothing he had told her had prepared her for the fanfare of the award ceremony. It was still broad daylight when they got there. There was a long red carpet going in, and an endless wagon train of limousines waiting to disgorge their contents. Beautiful women in expensive gowns, wearing dazzling jewels, were the norm, and photographers were pressing and shoving to take their pictures. Many of them were well-known actresses, and Coop usually attended the Oscars with one of them, but this year it meant more to him to go with Alex. They were the epitome of aristocratic respectability as they made their way slowly down the red carpet. Alex was wearing staggeringly high blue satin heels, and she was grateful for Coop's arm to keep her upright. And she smiled shyly as hundreds of cameras took their picture. Coop hadn't said it to her, but she reminded him of Audrey Hepburn in
“Oh my God!… That's her!… It's… what's her name…you know…Alex!!! And him!” Jessica was pointing as all heads in the room turned. Jimmy was watching with them, as he had the Golden Globes with Mark, and Coop and Alex had gotten out of the limousine, and were walking slowly into the Oscars. “She looks gorgeous!” Jessica was more excited to see her than any movie star, because she knew her.
“She sure looks good,” Mark said, as they all stared at Alex. “I wonder where she got the necklace.”
