Norbert and Smedley
Episode 6: Brown Eyes Blue
Heather regarded Penelope with a look of indecision. “You know, I’m having second thoughts about that dress on you. Maybe you ought to wear Sophia’s instead.”
“But I can’t wear a bra with Sophia’s,” said Penelope.
“Precisely.”
“Don’t you think I need one?”
“Whatever for?”
“To be proper. I don’t want to give Smedley the wrong idea.”
Heather giggled. No, that wouldn’t do. “Well, maybe Margaret’s then?”
“Oh, yes! Margaret’s. It’s green. I like the green contacts even better than the lilac ones. And maybe I’ll wear the brown tomorrow. But what if I’m stopped by a bobby? My I.D. says my eyes are hazel.”
“Oh, I dare say you could take them out if you had to,” said Heather. “If you couldn’t convince him by having him look closer. I expect girls are starting to change their eye color these days as often as they change their eye shadow.”
Penelope nodded thoughtfully and removed the dress. “It’s settled then. Let’s go ask Margaret. I hoped she remembered to have it cleaned after the Christmas Party. She’s not the most organized girl here, you know.” She moved towards the door, then turned back towards Heather. “Oh. I almost forgot. Can I borrow your shoes?”
“Yes, yes, yes. But on one condition. You have to wake me up when you get home and share all the details. Promise?”
“As long as you promise not to ask endless questions. I know I shall be tired.”
Penelope checked her watch when she returned, dress in hand. “I’d better hurry. Smedley will be here in forty-three minutes. You know how he likes to be punctual.”
“Good old punctual Smedley. I don’t know what you see in him. I like the roommate better, he’s so much more exciting and he has money. Smedley will always have to work for a living.”
“Exactly. Smedley isn’t like the other boys. I’ll inherit enough money, Heather. I don’t need to marry any. I want a man to love me, and Smedley does. He doesn’t get caught up trying to impress. He’s simple.”
“I’ll give you that. He is simple. I like them a little bit more interesting myself.”
Episode 7: All Tied Up
“I’ll just be polishing those shoes, sir. Give them a last bit of shine,” said Jonesy. “If that will be satisfactory. Not that what you did with them wasn’t good, but, er, well, dust and all, you know.”
Jonesy had turned a bit red in the face, Smedley noticed. Must not get enough exercise. But he’d been invaluable, so Smedley couldn’t complain. With his help, Smedley had dressed in record time. Smedley admired his reflection in the shaving mirror over the sink, contorting his body first one way, then another, so as to view all the angles. Granted, it wasn’t optimal, but it was the best he could do; he didn’t have a full length mirror. He supposed that would change once he was married.
Married—such a word. Smedley shivered at the thought. A lot of things would change, he expected. He’d need a bigger apartment, for one thing. There would be no room for Penelope here, what with Norbert and Woofington in the spare bedroom, and he was certain she’d never agree to share the lone bathroom with a dog. Woofington had a tendency to leave the faucet running in the tub after he got a drink of water. It made the most annoying drip… drip… drip… at night. Most of the time, Smedley was able to ignore it, but sometimes he would have to brace himself for the cruel shock of leaving his bed and run as fast as he could to shut it off, and hope he beat Woofington back to the comfort of the warm spot beneath the covers. If he didn’t know better, he’d think the dog let the water drip on purpose.
Smedley was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn’t notice when Woofington grabbed the bow tie, Smedley’s only bow tie, off the bed and started chewing on it, but Norbert did.
“Woofington, you scalawag. You drop that this second. Drop it!” Norbert shouted. He lunged for Woofington, who merely wagged his tail, leapt over the bed, and led his master on a merry chase around the room. “Damn it, Woofington, I mean it!”
What? thought Smedley. Are there times Norbert doesn’t mean it? Then the realization hit him. That was his bow tie—his ONLY bow tie. He started to chase Woofington, too, but both Norbert and Jonesy turned to him and shouted, “Smedley, NO!”
Jonesy added, “We haven’t got another suit, sir.”
Between Jonesy and Norbert, they managed to catch Woofington, but it was too late. The bow tie was a sodden mess. Now what? thought Smedley. He didn’t have another bow tie. The only other tie he owned was a bolero string tie from the square dancing costume he’d worn when he and Penelope had taken lessons, and what a fiasco that had been. “Norbert, have you got a tie I can borrow?”
“A chokehold? No, not a one. Never wear the things except when my mother’s got a gun to my head. Woofington’s just ruined the only one. I’m inclined to give him extra treats tonight for the favor, too.” He patted the dog’s head, and smiled until he saw Smedley’s face.
Smedley had tried to wipe the tears that were forming at the corners of his eyes, but he was too slow.
“Oh, dear boy. It’s not as bad as all that. There are plenty of shops between here and your dear Penelope’s. You can just pop into one real quick and buy another. Bow ties are a dime a dozen. Well, more like ten or twenty pounds each, but you get my drift. They aren’t hard to find. Jonesy can wait for you at the curb.” He went to Smedley’s side and took aim to clap Smedley on the back, but Smedley had seen it coming. He ducked to put his shoes on, avoiding the blow.
“Well, I do have my bolero tie,” said Smedley. “I’ll wear that, just in case. I only hope it doesn’t bring back too many bad memories for Penelope.”
“What? A bolero tie?” Norbert slapped his thigh, and let out a guffaw. “Did you hear that, Jonesy? A bolero tie!” He doubled over, holding his belly. “Really, you’re going to slay me one of these days. How do you think of these things?”
Smedley held the tie up for inspection. “At least it’s black.”
“You… you were serious?”
Episode 8: Westminster Poodle
Penelope’s phone rang just as she was endeavoring to slide the gown she’d borrowed from Margaret past the elaborate mass of curls Heather had arranged on the top of her head. She feared she already bore an uncanny resemblance to a standard poodle gussied up for the Westminster Dog Show, and had been forced to admit as much when she was unable to hide her look of dismay after her friends handed her a mirror.
“Don’t be a goose,” Margaret had answered. “It’s the rage. Everyone is wearing their hair that way these days.”
“Smedley won’t be able to take his eyes off you,” added Sofia.
Maybe, thought Penelope. But will that be out of horror or delight?
Heather’s feelings hadn’t been hurt by her concern, though. Far from it. She had simply nodded and added, “He won’t even recognize the new you. We’ve worked some real magic. We’ve transformed you from a brown-eyed brunette with horn-rimmed glasses to a blue-eyed bombshell—and we’ve gotten your face out from under that mass of hair.”
“We’ve uncovered your figure, too,” said Sofia. “I don’t know why you always insist on hiding it in those big fat cardigans. I say, dear girl. If you’ve got it, flaunt it!”
Margaret tossed her platinum curls in Penelope’s direction, and raised her index finger for emphasis. “But the most important thing is that gentlemen prefer blondes.
That may be, thought Penelope, but I liked me the way I was. And I thought Smedley like me the way I was, too. The telephone rang again, drawing her back to the present. She wriggled until she had an arm free, then reached for the phone and brought it to her ear.
“Hello?”
“Hello. I’m calling for the most beautiful girl in the world,” said Smedley. “Is she in?”
“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” said Penelope coyly. She picked up a curl and twisted it repeatedly, frowning into the mirror as she did so. “May I have the girl’s name, please?”
“Snow,” he answered. “Snow White.”
“Hmmm,” she answered. “Hmmmm. Let me see…”
“But she also goes by Penelope Wainscoting.”
“Oh,” Penelope smiled. “She’s right here. May I tell her who’s calling?”
“Tell her it’s her Prince Charming, now adorned in shining armor and ready to do her will.”
“O-ho. Doesn’t that sound interesting. I’ll have to think of what I shall be willing tonight,” answered Penelope. “There could be a great many things.”
Margaret, Sofia and Heather made rude comments in the background regarding just exactly what types of things they thought Penelope should be willing, or that they might be willing, if they were going out with their boyfriends. Penelope glared at them.
“Listen, darling. Do you know what time it is?” asked Smedley.
“Roughly forty minutes and counting?” said Penelope.
“No, darling. We’re down to less than twelve. That’s why I’m calling sweetheart.”
“Oh, my heavens. I need to go. Now. Goodbye, Smed—”
“No, wait! Penelope, don’t hang up!”
“Why not? How am I to get ready?”
“I wanted to ask you to meet us at the curb. We’ll just drive by until we see you. Would that be all right with you, my love? Norbert’s letting me use his car and driver, and that thing is a monstrosity to park. It would save us a lot of time, and we do need to save time—I’ve just had a bit of a crisis, I’ll tell you about it later— and I don’t want us to be late for our dinner reservation.”
“Oh, Smedley, I’d do that and more. A driver? How romantic. Oh, dear, now it’s eleven minutes. Goodbye.”
Episode 9: That Heap?
Penelope placed the receiver in its cradle, wriggled her other arm through the arm hole, shimmied her hips, and at last the dress fell into place, hugging her every curve. She did up the side zipper and stepped back in shock, just as she’d done the first time she tried it on. She had no idea she had quite so many curves; the old cardigans had done such a nice job hiding them. She slowly turned in front of the full-length mirror on the back of her wardrobe closet, imagining Smedley’s face. She blushed. She imagined he would, too, and that made her heart leap. She blushed all the harder. She did hope he could control himself.
She froze, suddenly self-conscious, when she caught sight of her three friends in the mirror. Their three sets of eyes staring at her from her narrow bed reminded her of monkeys. Sofia, who habitually held her hands in front of her mouth to cover bucked teeth, looked the part of “Speak No Evil,” even though she didn’t act it. Margaret leaning forward on her elbows, her cupped cheeks in her hands, was “Hear No Evil,” only her hands had slipped a bit (and she was too nosy to forego the hearing part, anyway). But Heather? She’d never cooperate with “See No Evil,” damn it. Heather was always spoiling things. Penelope giggled at the thought.
“And what, pray tell, has you so amused?” asked Heather. “Are you thinking of evil deeds to demand of your Prince Charming?” She laughed wickedly.
Penelope’s face went on fire. She opened the window and leaned out for air only to draw cat calls from the street below. Her face grew hotter. Well, that wasn’t helping she thought. On the other hand, so what? She’d never received cat calls before, and she rather liked the experience.
“Oh, no,” said Penelope, returning her head inside the room. “Nothing like that. Smedley just said he was running late. He wants me to meet him in front of the building.”
Sofia gasped. “Well, that’s the rudest thing I’ve ever heard. A gentleman comes to the door to get his lady.”
“He can’t come to the door, you dimwit,” said Margaret. “He’s not allowed upstairs. No men allowed beyond the lobby.”
“I know that,” said Sofia. She looked daggers at Margaret. “What I meant was that he’d come inside the lobby, ring the bell and wait for Penelope to come down, and then he would escort her to the car.”
“Girls, girls,” said Heather. “Enough. This is Penelope’s evening. Well, look on the bright side. At least we won’t have that awful car parked in front of the building, and if Penelope gets in quickly enough, maybe no one will see her.”
“Awful car?” asked Sofia. “What awful car?”
“Don’t tell me you haven’t seen Smedley’s old Mini!” said Margaret. She leaned in, her voice primed for gossip. “Oh, my heavens, if it isn’t something! Every side is a different color, makes it look like a Rubik's cube in need of solving, and he has to roll down his window to shut the driver's door. The passenger’s seat is a thrill, too. He accelerates and it slides back, then he slows down and it slides forward. Like a bloody carnival ride, it is.”
Penelope felt her fingernails digging in to her palm and tears forming in the corner of her eyes. She tried to control herself, but she could not. “Out. All of you, out!”
“But, I was just—”
“You were talking about my Smedley, is what you were doing,” said Penelope. “He built that car. From parts he got at a junkyard, while he was going to school. Can you build a car? Can your boyfriend build a car? Margaret's can’t even put two and two together and make four, from what I hear, but he doesn’t need to, now, does he? Daddy signs the checks, so he just needs to shoot billiards, and take you to dinner. Isn’t that right, Margaret? My Smedley is a self-made man, and I love him.” Penelope shoved the girls out of the room and shut the door behind them.
“Smedley better continue working, then. I don’t think he’s quite done with himself, yet,” Sofia grumbled as she retreated down the hall.
Penelope decided she didn’t care what Sofia thought. Smedley was all the man she needed, but Penelope did wish he would paint his car. Perhaps a nice, conservative green. But In the meantime, it ran, and Smedley loved her, and that was all that mattered. She looked at her watch.
One minute to go and counting.
Episode 10: One Last Check
Smedley adjusted the ends of his string tie so they were even and examined himself in the small shaving mirror. It was no small feat, requiring that he contort his six foot frame, but eventually he was satisfied that every inch looked dashing in Norbert’s black tuxedo and that Jonesy had done a fine job dressing him. “Well, Jonesy. Are you ready to go? My Snow White awaits.”
“Yes, sir. Don’t forget the ring, sir.” Jonesy presented the jeweler’s box to Norbert atop a small sterling platter engraved with a repeating pattern Norbert’s initials.
Ridiculous, thought Smedley. Why didn’t the man just hand him the box? But Norbert was fond of the platter and insisted Jonesy use it whenever he could find an appropriate occasion, and this was an occasion, Smedley guessed, if ever there was one. (The platter had been a rather ostentatious gift from a former girlfriend of Norbert’s, a while it was customary to return gifts when a relationship disintegrated, Norbert said, he’d held on to this one. What was the likelihood, Norbert had asked at the time, that the dear girl would find another “NB”? By keeping it, he’d save her the trouble of looking).
“Thank you, Jonesy,” said Smedley, accepting the jeweler’s box. He turned it over in his hand. It was the fanciest he’d ever seen, so fancy he suspected the box alone would satisfy Penelope. Oh dear, perhaps he should try to find some smelling salts? She might need them when she caught sight of the ring.
“Norbert says you’ll be needing this, too, sir,” said Jonesy. He looked disapprovingly down his nose as he held the tiny foil envelope by a corner, touching as little of it as possible, as if he were afraid of leaving fingerprints or catching some disease.
Smedley wondered why Jonesy had not presented the envelope on Norbert’s tray. “Oh. Yes. Thank you.” He’d forgotten about it and left it in the pocket of his pants. He took the envelope from Jonesy and placed it in the pocket of the tuxedo.
“Er, not there sir,” said Jonesy. “You’ll be wanting it within reach. I suspect you won’t be wearing your coat at the, er, ahem, time.” Jonesy colored and lowered his eyes politely the way butlers are taught to do when they are keeping employers from making embarrassing mistakes.
“Oh, right,” said Smedley. Good point, he thought. He didn’t like to eat with his jacket on. And what was it Norbert had said? Oh yes—that he’d want the little envelope at just the right moment, and he’d hinted that the right moment would be obvious. Perhaps the packet contained smelling salts? Smedley couldn’t go reading the label in front of Jonesy, though. Too embarrassing. He placed the envelope in the back pocket of his pants.
“Er, sir? Most young men put it in their wallet. Safer that way. Wouldn’t want it to get damaged, you know.”
“Right you are, Jonesy.” Smedley’s face grew warm. “I was just saving time. I’ll move it when we get to the car.”
The door to the apartment opened and Norbert and Woofington walked in. Norbert was already speaking before he’d even set foot in the room. “As usual, this fellow has a lot of cheek! Insisting on another walk at the most inopportune of times, but when we need our walkies, we need our walkies, don’t we boy?” He scruffed the dog behind his ears, and sat down heavily in the nearest chair.
Smedley had screamed as soon as he heard Norbert’s hand on the knob and run for the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. “Is he on a leash?” he shouted, from behind the door.
“Yes, yes,” said Norbert. “He hates it, but he is. Are you ready?”
“Yes,” came Smedley’s muffled voice through the bathroom door.
“Well. Let’s have a look at you,” said Norbert.
Smedley stuck his head out to check that the coast was clear before emerging from the bathroom. “We were just leaving. We have seven—no, make that six—minutes to get to Penelope's. I’m going to be stuck with the string tie, I’m afraid. No time to buy another.”
“Well, you look dashing anyway. Run along dear boy. She can’t possibly turn you down. No woman could. Go have your fun and don’t forget to use that protection.”
What protection? And from what? thought Smedley. Was Jonesy a bodyguard, too? But they weren’t going anywhere or doing anything remotely dangerous. Oh, well. He’d worry about that later.
Episodes Eleven through Fifteen