Page 22 of British Daddy to Go

8

Sean

This is ridiculous, I tell myself as I pace across the street from Havisham’s.I have an appointment.

This knowledge doesn’t stop the unfamiliar nerves from bubbling in my stomach. What if Maggie doesn’t want to see me? What if she isn’t even working?

I wasn’t lying when I’d told Greg I needed a new suit for my parents’ visit. My mother, especially, expects my clothes to match my upbringing. I’ve been wearing tailored suits since I was eight years old, and that certainly won’t change anytime soon.

My watch reads 2:59 in the afternoon. I’m supposed to be inside Havisham’s at three. There’s no excuse for me to dawdle any longer. I’ve been out here for almost thirty minutes already.

As soon as traffic clears, I cross the street. The bell over the door signals my arrival, and I’m immediately accosted by Roger.

“Mr. Jones! I was thrilled when your assistant called to set up an earlier appointment. To what do we owe this surprise visit?”

The man bows and scrapes as he usually does. My mother would love to witness this. Perhaps I’ll bring her here on her visit. She does enjoy feeling like royalty.

“My parents are coming to visit from England in a few weeks, and I’d like some new suits to wear when we’re out for meals.”

“Excellent!” he screeches, bowing again. “We have just the thing, I’m sure of it!”

“Lead the way, then,” I encourage. He bows once more and practically skips to the far end of the store. This is where the less formal suits are kept. My parents’ visit doesn’t warrant the same wardrobe as my best friend’s wedding, so the change in style is appreciated.

Roger starts poking and prodding at various styles while clamoring on about the weather. “Dreadfully hot, isn’t it?”

“I’ve found it quite pleasant, if I’m honest. Reminds me a bit of home.”

“Well! Did I ever tell you about my stay in English?”

He has told me, many times in fact. I scour the room for any sign of Maggie, but she’s not to be seen up front. I assume she’s behind the mysterious black curtain that hid her the first time I saw her beautiful face.

“I think you’ve mentioned it a time or two,” I say. “Did I ever tell you of the time my mother thought she was setting me up with a duchess?”

Roger’s face lights up. “You haven’t, Sean! Do tell.”

I grin. Sometimes it’s nice to give the man a taste of what he wants. If stories from my childhood across the sea make Roger happy, so be it. “Well, we were visiting London, and we met this darling family in the square. My mother was taken with the woman of the family, and they got to talking. Suddenly, the woman was hinting that Duchess would just love to meet me since we were the same age, and perhaps I could show her around? My mother was enamored! I was sixteen and ripe for courting. We set up a date so that I could show the duchess around London while our parents had drinks and got to know each other better.”

“She must have been dreadful for you not to marry her, Sean!”

I laugh. “She was pleasant enough, but it turns out she wasn’t a duchess at all; her name was Duchess! Her family was American transplants, which we should have figured out by their underdeveloped accents. Mother was stricken. To this day, she laments about how close we were to becoming royalty.”

“What happened to the girl?”

“She’s married now with a couple of kids. Our mothers are still dear friends, even after it all. Mum has never been good at holding a grudge.”

“What an excellent story!” Roger says, clapping his hands. “Your childhood must have been filled with stories like that.”

I haven’t the heart to tell him I grew up much like the average kid did, albeit with a bit more money. I went to public school in England, and I know how to properly drink a tea, but thus ends the excitement of my life.

“Perhaps I’ll share more with you next time,” I lie. “How about those suits, then?”

Roger bows. “Of course, Sean! I’ve got a few winners, I think. Let’s get you to the dressing room to try them on.”

The dramatic man holds twelve different suits in his arms. How a man of his stature can carry so many heavy items at a time baffles me.

I allow Roger to lead me into the dressing area with his load, though I can tell just by looking that half of them aren’t contenders. Does anyone buy plaid suits anymore? Surely not.

“Take your time with these, Mr. Jones. I want you to feel confident in your choice!”