“Excuse me? You’re twenty-one, are you not?”
“Not twenty-one yet but almost there. But you’d think I was twelve, the way he treats me.”
“So what’s wrong with him?” Claire demanded, obviously taken aback by Golden’s prison-like living situation. “At that rate you’ll never find a husband.”
“Exactly. But don’t worry about it, Claire,” Golden said, patting her hand, “I’ll figure out a way to get around him. It will be all right.”
“It had better be,” Claire mumbled, “or else I’ll have to have a word with that man.” Then she gave Golden a quizzical look. “And what about that mother of yours? What does she have to say about all this?”
“Well...” Golden hesitated, not wanting to bring her mother into the discussion. Eugenia was the most difficult factor in the whole equation. Every decision Golden made was centered around its impact on her mother and that was the problem. As long as her mother was in the middle of things she would never be free. “I haven’t told her about this yet,” she said finally, “and I probably won’t. It’s...easier that way.”
Claire’s lips tightened and she shook her head. “It’s a sad state of affairs,” she tsked, “when you have to hide your joys from your own mother. You need to remove yourself from that environment. It’s stifling you.”
“I wish I could.” Golden’s voice was nothing but a whisper but the shadow that crossed Claire’s face said she’d heard every word. Another great time to change the subject. “I’m thinking I’ll wear my black dress with the gold piping. What do you think?”
“The same dress you wore to Gertrude’s funeral last year? That old thing?”
That drew a gasp from Golden. “It’s not old. I’ve only worn it twice.”
“And make sure you don’t ever wear it again,” Claire said crossly. “That dress makes you look older than I am.”
Now that was deflating. Golden let out an exasperated breath. “But it’s the only thing I have that’s appropriate.”
“Appropriate? What kind of a word is that for a young girl to use? You’re describing the dress you’ll be wearing when you go out with this young man of yours. You don’t want appropriate. You want lovely, you want elegant. No,” she put up a finger, “you want sexy.”
“Sexy?” Golden had to laugh. “Claire, that wouldn’t be appropriate.”
“Stop saying that word.”
“All right, I’ll stop.” Golden put up a hand in surrender. “But I honestly think that’s the perfect dress for a dinner date. I don’t want my boss to think I’m being flirtatious. And besides,” she shrugged, “I can’t afford to buy anything fancy. I spent my first paycheck on work clothes.
“Get the money from your mother, child. What do you think mothers are for? Most likely, she’ll love the excitement of taking you shopping for your first date, late as it is.”
“I don’t think so,” Golden said, her voice hesitant. “I doubt that mother would give me a loan.”
“Loan? What loan? Can’t she spend some money on her own daughter?” Her face flushed with anger, Claire looked ready to hit somebody.
“Claire, you don’t understand. It’s not that easy, not with Dunstan Manchester in the picture. He wouldn’t let her.”
“He wouldn’t let...” Claire began to sputter and now she was growing really red in the face. “Who does he think he is? Is this the nineteenth century?”
“Please, Claire, don’t.” Golden leaned forward and laid a hand on her arm. “Don’t get so upset. I’ll figure something out. I could check the thrift store-”
“Thrift store? Are you mad? For the dress you’ll wear on your first date?” Claire flung Golden’s hand off her arm and pointed to her handbag lying on the table by the window. “Hand me my bag,” she said, her tone imperious. “I need my checkbook.”
“For what?” Golden did not budge. She could guess what Claire had in mind and she had no intention of letting her do it.
“I’m giving you some money so you can get yourself a nice dress.”
“I don’t want your money.” Golden bit her lip. The words came out sharp and cold, causing Claire to raise her eyebrows. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly, just in case she’d offended the woman, “but I didn’t mention the date so you would offer me money. You’re very kind but please, I’m quite all right.”
Claire gave an exasperated sigh. “Take it as a loan, then. You can pay me back when you’ve saved enough money. You have to get something from Harrods, my dear. You deserve nothing less.”
That brought a smile to Golden’s lips. “Oh, you’re so kind. I’ll think about it, okay?” Of course, she would think about no such thing, not a gift or even a loan from Claire. She’d never relied on anyone to solve her problems and she was not about to start now.
Knowing how tenacious the older woman could be Golden grabbed for the one thing she knew would throw her friend off track and wipe the money issue clean from her mind. “By the way, what would you say if I told you I’d like to help you reunite with your daughter? What if I took her a message from you?”
“I’d say leave well enough alone, child. This doesn’t concern you.”
“Oh, but it does. If you’re not happy then how can I be happy?”
“And who says I’m not happy?”
“Nobody but sometimes you look...like you miss her.” Golden regarded Claire’s face that had now turned serious. “Don’t you?”
“No, I don’t,” Claire said, her voice overly firm. She wasn’t fooling anybody, though.
Golden sighed. She would tackle this another time. She reached for her handbag and stood up. “I’ve got to go now, Claire.”