Okay, Pete. I missed the Steffie story yesterday, so I give you one today. It also has doors in.
Thursday Doors is a link-up founded by photographer extraordinaire Norm Frampton. Every Thursday, dooristas post pictures of interesting doors, often with the history attached to them. My contributions to the linkup in May will be stories with doors at least mentioned in them. But, if you’re a door fan, go to Norm’s blog and look at his wonderful post. Click on the blue frog button at the bottom of the post and find links to other doors in other places.
Steffie at the Church on Time
by Marian Allen
The bride wore white; Steffie wore teal. Although she didn’t know anyone in the wedding party and only one of the guests, nobody questioned her right to be there. The teal fascinator pinned to her hair was like an invisibility cloak that got her past the guardians of the high, wide, iron-hasped red church doors without a second glance.
She sat in a short pew against the back wall, beside the only person in the place she knew.
He was surprised to see her, not to say … what was her great-grandmother’s word? … flabbergasted.
“Steffie! How did you know?”
“Silly!” Steffie patted him gently on the thigh, her ring glittering in the red light from a stained glass window. “I am a secret agent, after all. Still one of the good guys, you naughty man.”
A dew of perspiration gleamed on his forehead. His eyelids drooped. His head bowed – just as the priest invited the congregation to pray; how appropriate! – and he was gone.
Steffie made sure the injector on the band of her ring was fully retracted, put a handkerchief to her nose, and ducked out of the service. Downstairs in the reception area, the caterers bustled about from the kitchen to the tables. Her dress, almost the same teal as that of the bridesmaid’s cocktail gowns, gave her the perceived right to inspect the arrangements.
She lifted each of the bowls holding butter mint wafers. In the hollow under the foot of one of the bowls, she found a purple mint, which she palmed and, in the ladies’ room, tucked into a pocket in her fascinator.
Before the groom kissed the bride, before the blare of the wedding march, and long before the distant cousin of the bride’s uncle’s best friend was discovered to be dead in the sanctuary (A blessing for him! Straight to heaven!), Steffie had delivered the mint and the stolen plans it contained to her handler, Pete.
At home, Steffie ran a tub of scalding hot water. The dress and fascinator would dissolve in it, leaving nothing but a handful of rhinestone buttons and artificial pearls.
Meanwhile, she curtsied to herself in the full-length mirror in her bedroom. She loved wedding clothes. She felt sorry for brides, pressured by the fiction of purity to wear boring old white.
“I feel pretty,” she sang, entirely pleased with her day. “Oh, so pretty!” She twirled off to make sure the tub didn’t overflow.
MY PROMPTS TODAY: Purex Free and Clear, musicals, Pete Laberge
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