What A Girlfriend Wants - Part 5

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Several months later, Dad wanted to go squirrel hunting. Governor Sullivan came down from Frankfort to join us and stayed with mom and dad. Dad and I also did a lot of fishing, but mainly in the summer. I didn’t care that much for hunting, but I knew how much he enjoyed doing it with me, so I went with him. And I wasn’t sure how many more good hunting years Dad had in him.

He could fish, but tramping around wooded Kentucky hillsides quickly takes a toll on him and wears him out. We must often stop so he can rest. Mary Jo came up to the main house with me and always kissed my dad on the cheek, and she gave the Governor one too. She had breakfast with us and stayed to see us off as well as spend the rest of the day with mom. Governor Sullivan and their dad grew up together, and he also knew mom from an early age. We hunted for over four hours until it started raining on us. I took a long hot shower after tramping through the woods all day. Mary Jo and I when back up for dinner.

Dad was slowing, turning over more and more control of the day-to-day responsibilities of his businesses to me. The construction and architecture took most of his time, and he had good people running and managing the tobacco side of his business. I knew dad would never retire but would always keep his hand in it for as long as he could breathe, especially on the architectural side of his business. On several occasions, I’d ask him questions even if I knew the answer. Surprisingly, many of his solutions surprised me and were better than my solutions.

I was walking in after repairing something in the barn and Mary Jo was hanging up the phone. “Guess who that was?”

“Honey, I have no idea. Who?”

“It was Martha Sullivan. Remember, she wanted to catch up with us before the end of the gala weekend?”

“Sorry, no. I don’t recall. That was months ago. I think the corset deprived my brain of too much oxygen and killed my brain cells.” She thought that was funny.

“She asked me how many vintage gowns and dresses you had. I said 12–15 or so.”

Gowns are representative of the ones found in the cedar chests.

I paused a moment, then replied slowly. “And.”

“She asked me to ask you if you would please model them at Kentucky’s Commonwealth’s 135th-anniversary ball for the Kentucky Historical Society this September in Lexington?”

“No. I am not a model, and I refuse to embarrass myself in front of the Commonwealth.” I replied sternly, then looked directly at Mary Jo into her captivating cobalt eyes with a blank stare. I paused again and asked, “You told her yes, didn’t you!”

She nodded in the affirmative.

“Mary Jo, I don’t have time. You know dad is giving me more and more responsibilities I’m swamped from five in the morning to six at night five to six days a week.”

“Can we please talk about it over dinner? I’ll make Kentucky Hot Browns for dinner.” (A Kentucky Hot Brown is an open-faced sandwich of turkey and bacon, covered in Mornay sauce, and baked or broiled until the bread is crisp and the sauce begins to brown.) Mary Jo prefers to broil them. It originated at the Brown Hotel in downtown Louisville. But I think the Talbott Inn in Bardstown makes the best one, next to MJs of course.

I headed upstairs to clean up for dinner. During dinner, I said. “Mary Jo, I don’t mind you dressing me up. I don’t. But I think this is going too far. I can’t fool or deceive everyone every time I am out in public with you.”

‘Tom, I appreciate it when you letting me dress you, and it excites me to do it. It is never my intention to embarrass you. I’m stuck. I told Martha you would do it. I know I should have asked you first. But this is for the Historical Society, and the Governor’s wife asked for you! I mean for Claire. And Martha asked me if you (me, Tom) would join us too. I told her the only fashion shows you (Tom) like are the Victoria's Secrets fashion shows on TV.”

She was right about the last part. What man doesn’t appreciate seeing gorgeous thin ladies with flat bellies wearing very little clothes strutting around in underwear, wearing high spiked heels, and bouncing their breasts?

“Will you please consider it? The Historical Society will pay for all the alterations too. They’ve hired Stella to do the original alterations on all vintage clothes. You remember her, don’t you?”

“I’ll think about it. No guarantees. But don’t get your hopes up too high, okay. I hate deceiving people.”

She served my Hot Brown and kissed me. “Thank you, sweetie. I told Martha I’d confirm with her after I spoke to Claire, and get back to her on Monday.” Today is Thursday evening, and I had three days to decide. The next several days were hard on me. I didn’t want to do it, but I also knew how much it meant to Mary Jo. I was stuck between the proverbial rock and a hard place. It was now Saturday evening, and I had to tell her tomorrow.

“Mary Jo. Please sit. I don’t mind you dressing me as your girlfriend Claire, and never wish to disappoint you. My biggest issue is my and our reputation in the community and state. I am now on the board of the local bank and am fairly known over two states. And I don’t want to embarrass you, your parents or mine. I want to help you with this, but I still have major reservations about it. I don’t feel right doing it and being deceptive. Being untruthful or deceptive are not core values of mine.”

“Tom, I know I told Martha that Claire would do this. I dressed you for me, not to show you off. I can give Martha some excuse Claire can’t do it. We can loan some of the dresses to the Historical Society. Now with that said, I still have no doubts you could do it with no effort at all. After all, you did convince a ballroom full of men and women over two days! And the men who asked you to dance with them only saw a beautiful young lady.” She paused. “I haven’t told you; I’ve received numerous calls and emails from people and some papers since then asking who you were after our picture with the Governor showed up in the Herald. Martha gave them my number and email.”

“What? Who? What for?” I replied.

‘Yes. I am stuck too. Everyone wants to know the who, what, when, and whereabouts of this beautiful, elusive, stunning young Southern lady named Claire Jennings. I think it is kinda cute.”

“Really! Who?”

“Mainly newspapers, a bunch of photographers, and a couple of society page editors.”

“You’re kidding. Right.”

Tom, “I’ve never lied to you. So, will you do this? I promise I’ll never take you out to any major event again. Please.”

“When is it? Where is it? And how long is it? You do understand we are in the middle of the major construction season, and I have a lot of projects spread out over Kentucky and Southern Indiana now that dad has turned so much over to me to solve problems and resolve issues. Our livelihood must come first.”

“It is in just over seven weeks from now. It will be at the Hyatt Regency Lexington convention center for two days. It is where the gala was. Remember? Friday is only an exhibition. That is all I know for certain. Historians wish to study and authenticate the dresses and try to determine what period time they originated, so we need to take them to Stella first, and she’ll take them to Lexington after she hems them.”

“What exactly do I have to do?”

“To my understanding, you would model each dress. I assume the emcee will most likely talk about each gown and some historical attributes about it.” Explained MJ.

“Won’t we have to give the information about the original owner, Henry Alexander, and his wife and daughter who owned the clothes? How else can they research?”

“I’ll find out. Most likely, they’ll date the clothing as best they can utilize historical records, photos, and fabrics, and items of clothing they have now on display. That sweet seamstress, Stella, who hemmed your gown, will most likely be a great resource to them. I don’t know for sure.”

“This is a big deal for you, Martha, and the Historical Society, isn’t it?” I asked.

“Huge deal.”

“Okay, I’ll do it. But this is my last public appearance. But if something important comes up for work, I’ll have to cancel. I’ll have dinner with you or shopping, but no big or public events. Understand?”

“Thank you, thank you. Yes, I understand. I never wish to hurt or embarrass you, Tom, or our families.”

“And, one more thing. No bio about Claire Jennings in the program. It would be false and deceiving people.”

“That may be hard.” MJ thought for a while. “But I’ll tell Martha that Claire is a very private person and wishes to remain so. Thank you, Claire. I’ll call Martha tomorrow.” She came over and threw her arm around me and gave me a big hug and kisses on my cheek. I was still uneasy. For some reason, in the back of my mind, this would be a bigger event than what I was planning for. I am not a model. I only enjoy watching them.

A couple of days later, Mary Jo and I sat down. “Mary Jo, I know nothing about being a model. How many 5”5” 120-pound models even exist? I don’t have your hypnotic hip swing or real breast that bounces as your beautiful ones do.”

“I’ll worry about that. With the corset, your waist will be much smaller, and your hips will be much more prominent. It pushes up your pecs too. Maybe some hip and butt pads will work. Claire, this is not a Paris or New York fashion week runway walk. It’s just posing in period clothing. In the 1800s, many covered their breasts anyway. Feel better?”

“Somewhat. A very small somewhat.”

“The Society called back yesterday and asked about period shoes. I when upstairs to the cedar chests and steamer trunks and found seven pairs. You need to try them on. If they don’t fit, we’ll donate them. Some of the leather on a couple of pairs of them looked dilapidated with some mold and cracking of the leather. The antique restorers will need to do a lot of work on them if they fit.” All but two pairs kind of fit. As long as I didn’t have to hike miles in them, they should work. I liked them since they had lower clunkier heels too!

“We may have to go up a day early. The makeup team needs to look at your face and hair. Your hair is looking quite shaggy now, Claire. No lady would ever look so disheveled, you know.”

“Makeup team? This is getting more and more involved and time-consuming each day, Mary Jo.”

“We should get you a facial before we leave too. And to the salon as well.”

“Facial? Salon?”

“Are you free this Saturday and the day before we leave to get a facial and haircut? I’ll make sure they don’t make it look really girly. But something you can still style when dressed as Claire. Oh, we need to have your nails done too.”

“Yes, so far, unless something at work comes up.” In the back of my mind, I was hoping something important at work that required my attention would happen.

“Tom, I’m sure you have a few trusted foremen or someone you’ve given authority to at work to make decisions if something comes up when you aren’t around for a day or two. And you’ll be a phone call away. We need to take all the dresses to Stella Vintage Clothing and Alterations so she can give the Society an estimate of costs for alterations. Okay?

“She can’t helm then without shoes, can she?” I asked. Remembering the four-inch heel measuring I did?

“Tom, those poor ladies didn’t have the luxury wear 4 to 5-inch spiked high heels in the 17 and 1800s.” Mary Jo said jokingly. And their dresses barely touched the ground. And I don’t think ladies were even allowed to show their ankles back then. Stella will hem them to the one pair of shoes you decide to wear.

I think you know what happens next. We loaded the car with shoes and dresses on Saturday morning and took off to Stella’s. She was so impressed with the dresses and even more with my whalebone corsets. Mary Jo also packed ‘my’ bloomers and petticoats. We were there for five and three-quarter hours.

We headed to the mall, and I experience my first salon visit. I’ve had pedicures in the past since I am prone to ingrown toenails. I was scared of what the haircut would look like.

Mary Jo said, “I told your stylists to give you a unisex haircut, but still leave it long. And not too girly since you were still a tomboy at heart.”

I was exhausted, and when we got home. I was surprisingly pleased with the haircut. Mom even liked it the next time I saw her.

Over dinner, Mary Jo said she needs to help me a bit more with my smile and walking. Also, each night she continued to exfoliate my face and hands. She applied anti-wrinkle serum under my eyes and my crow’s feet along with gallons of moisturizers since I am outside in the elements a lot. After a couple of days, my skin did look and feel softer and smoother. She did this every day for the next five weeks until we would leave for Lexington.

Mary Jo said we had to go the Lexington on Monday to have photos taken of me in the dresses for the program so they can get them to the printers on time. I had to be in Lexington Monday morning anyway for a meeting with a client and asked if we could do it after my morning meeting. She scheduled us both a facial and this time a manicure for Sunday afternoon.

I dropped off Mary Jo at the Hyatt and headed to my meeting. Afterward, I headed by to meet up with MJ. The big issue was that I was in a suit for my meeting and to find a place to change. MJ booked us a day room at the hotel for me to change. Mary Jo did a quick fix of my hair, applied minimum makeup, and painted my nails. MJ had an A-line skirt and white button-down blouse laid out on the bed for me. We next headed down to meet the photographer and makeup staff. Makeup and hair took forever. Why I needed so much makeup, I don’t know since ladies in the 1800s certainly didn’t wear any. I don’t think Max Factor invented makeup until around 1914 or so. Mary Jo put a couple of period looking wigs on me that had a lot of curls. The male photographer was extraordinarily courteous and extremely professional. He kept saying, “Miss Jennings, please do this or that, or turn a certain direction or smile.” MJ stayed near to him the entire time and helped me change. She took photos with her camera, too.

Between one of the wardrobe changes, Mary Jo said, “The photographer said you are great to work with and very good to the camera.”

“What’s that mean?” I asked inquisitively.

“It means that you look fantastic, easy to photograph. Maybe he’ll ask you to model swimsuits.” As I turned my head toward MJ. She quickly said, “I’m just joking. You do look fantastic and are doing great, Claire. Oh, I just found out from the historical society they dated the dresses from pre-Civil War to no later than the early 1880s. Just like Miss Stella said.”

I wore my skirt and blouse home and was relieved the day was over.

Several days later, Mary Jo showed me the proofs of the photos that had been sent to her via email.

“Is that me?”

“No, silly, it’s Claire Jennings. Don’t you think you look terrific? I certainly do. If I already didn’t know, I’d swear you were 100% female.”

“I’ll never be as beautiful as you, Mary Jo.”

“That is so sweet of you.” Said Mary Jo with a big smile.

Late afternoon the following Thursday, Mary Jo and Claire headed back to Lexington. Most of Friday and some of Saturday morning were relaxing, and I needed it from my long workdays. I slept a lot. Mary Jo booked us both in the morning to get facials and for me fake nails at the hotel’s spa. She recommended I get a massage. All I wanted or needed was several double shots of bourbon to calm my nerves, more than I needed a massage. Two hours before the event, I had to head off to makeup. I was still baffled why it took two hours for them to make me look natural. I guess I’ll never know. After Mary Jo cinched, and re-cinched, my corset, she helped me into the first gown that I’d wear at the dinner before the show. After introductions, Mary Jo and I sat at the head table with first lady Martha Sullivan and several heads of the Kentucky Historical Society. I read over the program. The only thing about me on the program was, ‘Historical outfits owed and modeled by Miss Claire Jennings.’

I chatted the best I could during dinner (same old hotel conference chicken). It was almost time for the show. Mary Jo and I excused ourselves to head backstage. A nice gentleman in period dress tipped his hat and was kind enough to offer his hand to help me up the stairs. I lifted the long skirt of my dress and petticoat and ascended the stairs. Before the show began, Mary Jo told me to take ten slow deep breaths to relax.

“Deep breaths? Are you kidding? I can hardly even inhale an eighth of a breath with this corset on!”

The show began I did what Mary Jo trained me to do and had done in endless practicing at home. I would walk a short ten-foot-long runway and stop and turn while the emcee would talk about my outfits. I only had about three minutes to change. It was strange having another lady in the dressing room with us. Many outfits had a lot of buttons and hooks to fasten and unfasten. It also took a while to put all the hatpins in too. While I changed, the emcee would talk more about my outfit or what happed during the time period in the 1800s or about the Historical Society in hopes of drumming up new members and donors. I didn’t expect to see so many news and professional photographers in the crowd or at the foot of the stage. Truthfully, I didn’t expect any at all.

On some occasions, I would descend the stairs with the help of the same gentleman who was in period dress. He would escort me since ladies of that era were never left unattended or unescorted. I carried a parasol on my shoulder as he escorted me around the audience. At the same time, I held his arm, and we would stop for a few pictures with some of the audience. I blew kisses to some of the men, and one time I wore a shawl and had fun teasing a few men in the audience. As I walked around one bald man, I leaned over, I kissed him on the top of his head, and everyone laughed. Of course, ladies of that period would never do such a brazen thing. I looked up at Mary Jo, and she smiled with approval back at me.

I was happy there were no wardrobe malfunctions or that anyone suspected I wasn’t a girl. I was slowly enjoying this. I beg you, please don’t tell Mary Jo I said that. The entire show lasted under one-hour, mainly because of the outfit and hat changes.

Numerous people came up to talk to me and Mary Jo after the show, I noticed to my right a cute little girl wearing a canary yellow sundress walking toward us. She said, “Mrs. Taylor, you and Miss Claire are the most beautiful ladies in the world.” My heart sank. I stooped down like I’ve seen Mary Jo do many times when talking to youngsters and held her hand.

I said, “Thank you. You are so sweet. I know you will grow up to be even more beautiful than both of us. What is your name?”

“Mattie! Mattie Alexander, Ma’am.” No one ever called me Ma’am before.

Mary Jo stooped down to, “Are you Jamie Alexander’s daughter?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Jamie walked up to us.

“Jamie,” Mary Jo said. “How are you and Bill doing? “You have the sweetest daughter. Oh, let me introduce my friend, Claire Jennings. Claire, Jamie Alexander.”

Jamie said, “Claire, you were amazing tonight. What beautiful vintage outfits.”

“Thank you. That is so very nice of you.” I replied.

“Where’s Tom?” Asked Jamie.

“Working as usual. You, John, and Mattie need to come and visit us for a weekend.” We talked for a while, and Jamie and Mattie departed.

“No one has ever told me I was beautiful before or called me Ma’am,” I said to Mary Jo.

“You are beautiful. That was so sweet of Mattie. She is a darling little girl. You handled that well, Claire. Let’s get you changed.” We headed backstage to my dressing room.

Not much longer after we arrived, Mrs. Sullivan and some of the ladies from the society came into my dressing room as Mary Jo was unbuttoning my buttons on the back of my dress. They all thanked me for modeling the sharing my beautiful period outfits and then presented me with a bouquet. With the corset off, I put on the skirt and blouse I arrived in. MJ and I headed back to the room.

“Claire, you were nothing short of sensational tonight. Thank you so much for doing this. Everyone loved you. I am so proud of you. Did you enjoy it?”

“No one has ever given me flowers before. I was scared the first time out on stage, but it became easier each time out. I would have never made it through it without your love and support. I am glad it is finally over, and we can go home tomorrow. I need a bourbon.”

“Do you want to go down to the bar for a nightcap, Claire?”

“No thank you, I’ve had enough attention for one day.”

MJ went downstairs to the bar and brought me a double shot of Knob Creek on the rocks.

The next morning, I wore a business jacket/skirt with a button-down white cotton blouse that Mary Jo packed for me. We headed to the elevators to go down to the lobby to check out and have breakfast. We weren’t ready for what we met when the elevator door opened. Flash, flash from cameras, and a few people were slamming questions at me. Thankfully, Mary Jo bailed me out and said I had a sore throat and couldn’t speak. I just smiled and nodded. We finally escaped the deluge of questions and pictures and decided to check out and have breakfast on the road.

Monday after work, mom came back down to our house. I was in my male drab. She was holding the Lexington newspaper and said, ‘Mary Jo.” And she handed her the Monday morning paper showing her my pictures. “Isn’t this your friend I met awhile back?”

“Yes, mom, that’s my friend, Claire.” She joined me at the Historical Society event this weekend. You should have been there. It was an amazing evening.” She saw the bouquet on the table.

“Are those from Tom.”

‘Yes, they are. He’s always so sweet and thoughtful.”

“Well, the next time your friend Claire visits, please invite her up for dinner. She is beautiful. I’d love to meet her again and know more about her.” As usual, mom turned and departed as quickly as she arrived. Dinner with me dressed as Claire with my parents would never happen. I hoped.

For the next two weeks, Mary Jo was swamped with calls and emails. Before dinner, she showed me some of the emails.

“What? No way! No. No. And no. These are all for interviews on talk shows and modeling offers.”

“Well?” Asked Mary Jo with a raised eyebrow and leaning slightly towards me.

“You promised remember, no more public events. I am holding you to it. I plan to stick to what I know best – loving you, construction, and growing tobacco.”

“Really? We’ll see.” Mary Jo said with a smile.

The End.