The beer turned out to be unusual, with an islandy-bitter aftertaste. But it pleasantly coated the tongue, was cold and softly hit the head – what else do you need, one wonders, in another world, in someone else’s house and with a piece of hot pizza in your hand. But it ended unexpectedly quickly, so I went to explore the second floor only with pizza – it was definitely tastier than anything I had tried before, “impossible to put down,” as they say in the advertisement. And why didn’t I order two at once? Although who’s stopping you from repeating it tomorrow?
On the second floor, in addition to Charlotte’s bedroom and the guest room, there was a rather strange room, which, apparently, was intended as an office with a library. But Charlotte's entire library consisted of a stack of glossy magazines and several romance novels in paperback, travel format – books that you wouldn't mind forgetting on the train. As for the office, it seems that she fulfilled and exceeded the daily work quota during the day, and preferred to relax at home. But how to relax… I looked in confusion at a piece of floor about two by two yards, covered with something like rubber stitched with metal. For some reason there was no desire to attack there. What could it be? Whatever! From a treadmill to a magical version of some hellish computer shooter. ? black matte wall opposite? Very similar to the screen of a turned off TV or laptop! Not counting the size – if this is really a screen, then it will be of the “mega-cool home theater” class.
– To enable or not to enable? – the last piece of pizza went into my stomach with pleasant satiety, and I waved my hand: – ?, tomorrow!
The screen lit up.
“Tomorrow we will have a pleasant sunny day,” the announcer said. Her trouser suit, azure with a turquoise tint, would do justice to the trends of the season, and her smile would serve as an excellent advertisement for some advanced magical dentistry. – No precipitation, northwest wind, from weak to moderate. Air temperature at night…
“To hell with the weather,” I said gloomily. After all, I wasn’t going to turn it on at all! Although now at least it is clear that this is a TV, and not some…
– event poster? – asked the doll-announcer.
– Turn off. I have to go to work.
I got there and I’m arguing with the TV! What's next? Will the washing machine enslave me, or what replaces them here? By the way, you should check your wardrobe. It looks like a closet in the bedroom.
The TV turned off as soon as I stepped beyond the threshold of the room. Apparently, before this happy moment, he hoped that I would change my mind…
The closet was bursting with a wide variety of clothes. But, in the best tradition of jokes, my first reaction was a classic feminine one:
– There’s nothing to wear!
Charlotte clearly spared no expense on the latest fashionable items. Although I had a hard time imagining how they would fit with the chilly autumn weather: slush, rain and fog. Short flared skirts and open sundresses, tight T-shirts and tops. A dozen cocktail and evening dresses – too open, provocatively revealing. Everything is bright, evoking thoughts of the beach, dance parties and even dates. Yes, probably this fuchsia color should suit me – I held the dress to me and nodded approvingly, looking in the mirror. Or that cornflower blue one… But, my God, not for work!
Trousers were conditionally suitable for work – conditionally, because I would have preferred black or neutral beige, rather than the red-brown ones I was wearing today, or the bright blue, olive and crimson ones hanging in the closet. Raspberry pants! Nightmare!
And not a single one, NOT ONE! Classic blouse. Not white or anything like that.
Yes, if you show up at the department in this crimson horror and sticking beacon… It’s surprising that the professor is only hiding behind a newspaper, in his place I would probably crawl under the table.
Decidedly going downstairs to the bonus cards scattered all over the table, I found a business card of either an atelier or a boutique – I didn’t even bother to look into it. She squeezed, desperately thinking about a strict work outfit – black trousers of a classic cut, a white blouse – fitted, tailored to the figure, but closed and modest.
It jerked as if someone had roughly pulled my hand. And I ended up… apparently still in the studio. A rack with fabric samples, a display case with buttons, lace, fasteners…
And either the hostess or the master, plump, at first glance, attractive to me, who smiled affably at me and asked with frank curiosity:
– Miss Blair? What's wrong?! So suddenly – and so strikingly different from your usual orders!
“I want to impress a man with certain tastes,” I answered honestly. It is always better to hide the big truth, putting forward a small and not the most important part of it…
– Oh-oh-oh… I understand! Now we’ll dress you up, Miss Blair, no doubt, the chosen one will be impressed and smitten.
“Oh yes, I’m smitten,” I thought gloomily. Meanwhile, I found myself standing on the same platform from which I almost shied away from at home – and opposite, another Charlotte Blair wove out of thin air. Like in a mirror, but three-dimensional. And already on her materialized the same blouse I had presented and black formal trousers – a little narrower than I wanted, but they emphasized her figure so well that I could not resist and nodded.
“We need to change the top,” the master shook her head (still a master? And what a shame, I have no idea how to address her, but Charlotte probably knows!). – Like this, look.
The darts at the waist lengthened, and the blouse fit exactly to the figure, almost the same shape as all of Charlotte's beacons. The turn-down collar was replaced by a stand-up collar, the top buttons were not a cutout, but… as if in a hurry, they simply weren’t fastened all the way. The strict style has become defiantly sexy. No, it’s not suitable for work… But I couldn’t refuse.
– Great, but a strict classical one is also needed.
“Strict classical ones can be very different,” the master smiled. – Let's see what suits you best.
The next hour – no less! – we went through the styles. In the end, my eyes were filled with ruffles, inserts, embroideries, brooches… But the main thing is that I really couldn’t choose! Almost everything looked simply wonderful. Even immediately excluding models with lots of lace and puffy collars, I was literally torn. Until she mentally waved her hand: Charlotte’s account did not allow for such excesses, she said that day: “Manage your money boldly, Charlotte never lived only on her salary. My father has his own business, he paid for all major expenses. Although the salary at the Panacea Academy is significant, even for an assistant.”
The bell above the front door rang melodiously, and she stepped inside… I didn’t dare call her a middle-aged woman, more like a fairy. Light, thin, in an airy dark gray dress, so elegant and at the same time surprisingly simple that you can’t help but fall in love. Light wavy strands spilled out of a lush bun and framed a thin, beautiful face. “And no makeup,” I thought enchanted, “but she looks amazing. Everyone would do that. Magic? How old is she really? A little over forty?
– I’m sorry, Grisella, I saw that you were still open. Good evening. Shall I interfere? – the fairy woman looked at me with eyes as amazing as all of her – clear, bright, as if sunny, and suddenly smiled softly. – Miss Blair. What an unexpected meeting.
– Miss Norwood! – the master exclaimed in amazement, turning around. – Sabella, dear, how long have you been gone! Come on in, don't stand on the threshold. Cup of coffee? Tea? It’s always open for you, you know.
Norwood?! Really… oh my God, the dry-haired professor has such a mother?! Or is it my sister?
“Good evening,” I answered as neutrally as possible, so as not to betray my ignorance. It sounded warm – it was impossible not to smile in response to the smile of this amazing woman, who was endearing at first glance. “I’ve already chosen everything, so…