The Woman in White

Pansy Parkinson was surprised to see Ron walk into the office the next morning. Her wide eyes told him so, but he spoke politely to her even though he was obviously in a rush. “I don’t have an appointment, but is Justin free?”

“Yes, he is. You can go on in, he won’t mind.” He gave her a smile in thanks and hurried into Justin’s office.

“Ron?” Justin shuffled through the parchments on his desk. “Did I miss a meeting memo?”

“No, we didn’t have a meeting.” Ron came closer to the desk. “I was wondering if you had photos from the gala last night?”

“Sure, I was going to go select some for the papers, and for our internal reviews.” He gestured to a stack on his desk.

“I won’t take any, but do you mind if I have a look?” Ron asked already taking his cloak.

“Sure.” He said with a wave of his hand.

Pansy brought in tea for them, while Justin focused on the parchments, and Ron moved slowly through the photos.

He looked carefully in every image for white feathers. Whoever it was had eluded the camera carefully, or hadn’t shown up until later. Either way, Ron went through every picture in his hands. He was about three quarters of the way through the stack when he saw her.

It was a photo of a man and woman in matching masks waving at the camera and trying to look dignified while having too much fun. But Ron was drawn instead to the pillar in the background. There, in a white slip style dress, trying to remain undetected, was the woman with the white feather mask. It was more of mask then anything in the room. The white feathers covered her head, from the bridge of her nose to the nape of her neck as if her own head had sprouted the plumage instead of hair. The only part exposed was her lips, lower cheeks and jaw and the tip of her nose.

She was looking around but when her eyes found the camera she tucked herself behind the pillar. Ron smiled at the image. The little lady didn’t want to be photographed. He studied the repeating woman in the photo. Normally women put themselves in his path in several ways to be noticed. This woman was different.

He was intrigued that she didn’t speak to him. She just left her note and then vanished. Her mask was the most feminine of anything he had seen that night. The feathers curled around her whole head, and hid her with a glamour and a mystery that he found intriguing.

She had a trim figure but he could tell that she was svelte from exercise as opposed to dieting. Her bare arms were firm instead of stringing, and the dress stopping at her knees let him see legs curved with firmness and not thin and bony. She was glamorous and graceful and Ron found himself wondering what her purpose was in hiding from him.

He was drawn to her tactic. It was evasive, as if she was afraid to admit her identity, but why? He knew he was mouthy when it came to some women, but only with the obviously greedy ones. He was polite to most ladies who didn’t flirt like ostriches, showing an interest in his possessions, rather than him.

This woman, however, avoided him, waiting until she was sure she wouldn’t be seen. He wanted to talk to her. He wanted to find out what her interest was and why she chose this way to talk to him. Maybe she was a galleon hunter, but maybe she wasn’t. The only way he would know was to talk to her.

“Justin, do you know this woman?” Ron asked coming over to the desk and handing him the photo. “The one in the back behind the pillar.”

Justin focused but she wasn’t close enough to the camera for him to see clearly. “She’s good at hiding.” He said with a chuckle.

“Do you remember her from the event?” Ron pressed.

“No. She must have shown up late and left soon after.” Justin said, leaning back and looking at Ron. “I can’t remember having seen a mask like that.”

“I thought the same thing.” Ron said. “She’s not in any of the other photos.”

“You’re looking for her specifically?” Justin asked him.

“I think she left me a note, but she didn’t leave her name or anything.” Ron sat down staring down at the image. “Is there another gala or event coming up?”

“Actually there is. The charity dinner for the children’s shelter is next week.” He said.

“I wonder if she’ll be there?” Ron said looking down at her.

“I thought you didn’t like women?” Justin said with a grin.

“I like women just fine, what I don’t like is bitches and whores who think they can trade their pussy for jewelry and presents. Prostitutes are more honest then women like that.” Ron specified.

“You sound like you respect hookers more.” The older man ventured.

“I do. They are honest with what they expect, and they aren’t demanding. No drama and they always tell you just how it is.” Ron told him. “They don’t lie either, claiming they love you and will do anything for you. If they can’t or won’t do something, they tell you so.”

“So what about this one?” He asked pointing to the photo.

“This one is different. She’s hiding and I’d like to know why.” Ron said not taking his eyes from the photo.

‘And if she turns out to be just like Sara?” Justin focused on Ron, wondering what the answer would be.

“Then I will be able to see the signs right away.” Ron met the publisher’s eyes. “I know what to look for this time around.”

Two days later Ron was in his office, going over some ideas he had for a new book. Some were horrid and he incinerated the parchment, berating himself for thinking of something like that. Other ideas needed to be rethought, and changed around. Ron almost never had an idea spill out of his mind ‘as is’ with no reworking or rough drafts needed. He always saw opportunity to perfect his thoughts.

He was lost in thought when a tapping brought his attention up to his window. A brown wild owl was perched on the tree outside his home watching him. He gave a confused frown and rose to let the owl in. He watched the bird fly in and settle comfortably on the back of his chair.

“Waiting for a reply then?” He asked the animal as he took the letter it brought him. He was answered by an affectionate nudge.

‘I’m sorry if I am disturbing you, I just wanted to know if you received the note I left for you.’

He looked at the owl waiting patiently, then sat behind his desk, taking out a fresh piece of parchment. Quill in hand he wrote.

‘I did indeed get your note, and may I thank you for the compliment. I am curious as to why you did not approach me at the gala. You seemed, from your two notes to me, to be very polite and intelligent, so why the game of hide and seek? Are you married? Do you have a boyfriend? Are you worried I might have one, because I assure you, I do not. Tell me, why are you hiding?’

Satisfied with his words, he attached the letter and watched the owl fly away. He thought for a split second about following the animal, but then changed his mind. She was obviously worried about something so he would respect it for now. She had given him no reason for mistrusting her. The next move was hers.

He had to wait two more days before he found the familiar owl waiting for him when he had returned from the market. He rushed inside letting the owl fly inside before he shut the door. He waved his wand and sent his shopping to the cooler and the cupboards before taking the note.

‘It must have seemed strange to you to receive my notes, but I am very aware of how women upset you at times, and I would never force my presence on you. I only wanted to voice my appreciation of your stunning looks and talent.’

Ron frowned. She was basically admitting she was afraid of his reaction. Approaching him at the gala would have been humiliating if he reacted badly. But asking him to dance or to talk wouldn’t have upset him. If she started talking of a partnership or began flirting he may have thought differently, but this method she had chosen made him think.

The last thing he wanted was for anyone to be afraid of him. Well, that was partly true. He wanted galleon hunters and sickle sniffers to be apprehensive about approaching him, and he had yet to know her motives or her intent. He wasn’t put off by it, surprisingly. He was intrigued at the fact that she had known his feelings on certain women and she still found a way to make herself known. That showed intelligence, which he admired.

“You stay right there.” He told the owl and went to his office. In moments he had a note scrawled out and had sent the bird flying off.

In no time at all the owl landed on a familiar perch and snacked on his filled tray, waiting while a ladylike hand took the letter from him.

‘It was an eye opener to hear a woman was actually afraid to simply walk up to me. I know I have myself to blame, and I won’t insult you by asking you to understand. Even being nervous about approaching me, you still managed to find a way to talk to me, and I do appreciate it. There is a charity event coming up, and if you will be there, I would like a chance to speak face to face. I will leave it up to you.’

The elegant hand placed the letter on a table and looked out a window, thinking. Behind her an ivory dress and white feather mask hung, untouched in the dim light. She ran a hand along the fabric, tracing the beaded leaves along the hem. Maybe she would wear it again.