Page 28 of Omega
“Ah. Mr. Valentine. You come, good, good. So glad to see you, dear.” She wrapped both arms around Roth and hugged him tightly. “I have not see you in too long. Where you go?”
“Oh, I’ve been busy, Ella. You know how I am.” He kissed both of her cheeks, held her by the arms. “How have you been?”
Ella shrugged one shoulder. “I am well enough. Some days I am still sad, of course, but what can one do, hmm?” She turned to me. “And this must be your bride, yes? Oh…she is beautiful, Mr. Valentine. So beautiful. You say she is lovely, but you did not sayhowlovely.”
I blushed. “Hi, Ella, I’m Kyrie.” I extended my hand to her, but Ella pulled me into a warm, strong hug.
“Kyrie, so wonderful to meet you.”
Roth took my hand once Ella released me. “Kyrie, Ella is Eliza’s sister.”
“You knew Eliza?” Ella asked, her sharp brown eyes going watery. “I miss her every day. Every day.”
“I knew Eliza, yes. Not anywhere near long enough, but…she was amazing.” I had to fight back tears.
“Every day after she finish working for Mr. Valentine, Eliza would call me. Just to say hello, to say I love you. We were very close, even though we did not live near for much of our lives. I am here, living here, working here, and she is in England for the elder Mr. Roth, and then she moved to America with the Mr. Valentine, but every summer Mr. Valentine, he give her three months off to come see me, to stay with me.” Ella let out a long, quivery sigh. “And now she is gone.”
Roth cleared his throat roughly. “I’ll never be able to tell you how sorry I am, Ella. I’ll never forgive myself for…for what happened.”
Ella turned away from me, putting her palm to his cheek. “I forgive you, Mr. Valentine. I have already tell you this. Iforgiveyou. And Eliza, up in heaven, she forgive you too. I know she does. She know you from when you just a boy. You are her family, Mr. Valentine. I forgive you, she forgive you, nowyoumust forgive you.” She smiled, patted his face, and then turned to me. “But we are not here for the chatter of a silly old woman, are we?”
She grabbed me by the shoulders, hustled me over to a stool and up onto it, and pushed my arms up and out and began taking my measurements.
I glanced at Roth. “What’s going on, babe?”
“Ella is a dressmaker.” He smirked at me. “You really think I’d allow you to wear something off the rack?”
I laughed. “I suppose not.”
Ella spoke while measuring and jotting the numbers onto a pad she’d produced from somewhere. “I am not a famous designer, but I can make you a pretty dress to marry Mr. Valentine. I think, because this is the islands, you have something with no straps, something the wind can play with. It will be on the beach, yes?”
I shrugged. “I suppose. I’d marry him in a kitchen, if I had to.”
Ella paused and glanced up at me. “A kitchen? Not so romantic, you ask me. I think he can do better than that, probably.” She straightened, draped the measuring tape around her neck, and tucked the notepad into a pocket, the pencil stub behind her ear. “I have a dress all made for you, in my mind. Say…two days? Maybe less, but come here again in two days, I will have the most beautiful dress for you to marry Mr. Valentine.”
We were at the door when Ella stopped Roth with a hand on his arm. “You shouldn’t have done that, you know.”
Roth kept a blank expression. “Done what, Ella?”
“Pay my debts. I am proud woman. I don’t need no help.” She looked almost angry.
Roth sighed. “It doesn’t give you your sister back. It doesn’t take away the grief. But…it’s the only thing I could do.”
Ella’s face softened. “Well, thank you. I know you mean well.”
“We’ll see you on Friday,” Roth said, and leaned in to kiss her cheek.
* * *
I watched as Layla tugged the hem of a dress down a little further, so it just barely brushed the tops of her knees. It was short, tight, low-cut, and everything Layla loved in a dress. So sexy it was just this side of slutty, fully emphasizing her remarkable assets. At five-foot-nine, Layla was a couple inches taller than me, and she was also a good bit heavier than me, all of it in her curves. Long, thick, curly black hair done up in a sloppy bun, flawless caramel skin, exotic, exquisitely beautiful features, tits and ass that wouldn’t quit…my best friend was stunning. I knew I wasn’t homely by any stretch of the imagination, but when placed next to Layla I was the ugly friend.
I cleared my throat as Layla swiveled side to side, smoothing her palms over the bell curve of her hips. “Layla, babe. It’s a wedding, not a night at the club. Can we go for something a little more…beach wedding and a little less ‘fuck me in a limo?’”
Layla shot me a glare. “It’scute.And it does great things for my ass.”
“Yourassdoes great things for your ass, honey. You could fill out a burlap sack.”
Layla shook her head. “You’re just trying to ruin my fun.”