Fool's Gold

Chapter Twenty-Four: God and His Angel

A/N: Only 3 chapters left after this! I can't believe it!

Chapter Twenty-Four:

God and His Angel

“No, no, no! Absolutely not!” Florence snaps, poking her head out from behind the silk folding screen. Henri’s head snaps up at her sudden outburst, his mouth overflowing with glinting silver pins.

          Leo rolls his eyes from the parlor chair. “Again? What’s the problem this time?”

          “Yes,” Henri joins in shortly, carefully extracting the pins from between his lips. “What have I done wrong now?”

 “It's peach, for one thing!” Florence cries, stepping out to give the two men a full view of the dress. She pinches a bit of the lace fabric between her fingers experimentally before letting it fall back against her legs with a wrinkled nose. “And secondly, it's practically Victorian.”

“Yes, I see,” Henri murmurs thoughtfully, already circling her to take in the ensemble. “My God,” he laughs to himself. “What was I thinking? That shade is positively ghastly with your hair, my dear.”

“You could have at least found something white,” Leo remarks. “It would have suited her much better.”

“I believe that I have just the thing hiding around here somewhere,” mutters the tailor as he rummages through one of the several garment racks that litter the parlor. “I think it's this one,” he declares, unwrapping a particularly thick gown with great difficulty. An enormous monstrosity of white silk and lace frills spills out from the opening, looking suspiciously like someone's great aunt's wedding dress. He forces the layers of fabric back into the container until they strain against the garment bag and create a great, protruding lump. "Not that one then, eh?" he chuckles, now elbow deep in the next rack.

          "Definitely not," Leo confirms solemnly as he bites back a grin. “And you must hurry up before Florence dies of impatience over there, she looks positively ready to rip off your head.”

          “Why, what a dreadful thing to say!” clucks Henri as he digs through his seemingly infinite wares.

          “Oh yes,” Florence mimics him, clutching dramatically at  her heart. “What a dreadful thing! I fear I might faint from sheer boredom!” Henri sends her a withering look over his shoulder and she composes herself expertly with folded hands behind a straight back.

 “Ah! Here it is!” Henri exclaims brightly, wrestling a rather plain garment bag off of the rack. He lays it in Florence’s hands with such care it is as though she now possesses a small, sleeping child who is not to be woken under any circumstance. At her look of doubt, he winks. “Try it on. It’s a perfect fit, I assure you. You’re going to look absolutely gorgeous.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There is a knock at the door and Florence goes to answer it, hopping into a high heel in the process. She pats her bob into place before the mirror and snatches up a bottle of perfume, patting it generously on the insides of both wrists, before slowly opening the door. Her heart seizes up in mid-beat inside her chest as Leo stands before her, dressed in an immaculately starched suit and bow tie. One thousand questions fight for the custody of her lips and one flutters out nervously from between them.

"Black?" Must you sound so ridiculous? Get ahold of yourself!

He enters without hesitation and stand beside her, watching their reflections in the mirror on the wall. The blue winter ice in his eyes burns brighter than ever before, set with an infectious determination and an iron will.