Page 13 of Enchanted in Time
The red dress fit as if it had been especially made for her—as if she’d had it custom-made. The Carmen neckline clung to her décolleté and ended in wide straps that extended over her shoulders. The gown was smooth along the waist and across herflat stomach, without a single wrinkle, as if the dressmaker had known what she had eaten that day. And the skirt puffed out from the hips to a fullness that she’d seen in older fairy-tale books. The outer lace fabric lay softly over the silken material and gave the gown the needed finishing touch.
“Frieda, where did you get this dress?”
“I told you. I made it for you.”
Hannah looked at her neighbor in disbelief. That clearly could not be true, but she didn’t probe any further. Maybe the dress was connected to a memory that Frieda would rather not reveal. Unlike her neighbor, Hannah knew exactly when to let someone have their privacy.
Emi came closer and stroked the delicate fabric excitedly. “Mommy, you look like a real princess!”
“You look so beautiful!” Leon agreed.
Curious, Marco also came shuffling up and peeked into the bedroom. His eyes widened on catching sight of his mother. “Wow, Mom, not bad. A little cheesy, but otherwise...”
“Thanks, big guy.” Hannah winked at him.
“So are you actually going to the ball?”
“I...”
“She promised!” Leon and Emi immediately started to whine.
“What have I gotten myself into?”
“Mrs. Meyer, if I may just say something?”
“Since when do you feel the need to ask for permission?”
Frieda chuckled as she raised her forefinger. “Now, Mrs. Meyer, please listen to me. Someone has gone to exceptional trouble to send you this enchanting invitation. If a coach should arrive at your door later on as well, you should not be so impolite as to ignore all this.”
Hannah was listening. “You’re not trying to set me up, are you, Frieda?”
“Oh, don’t be silly, Mrs. Meyer. I’m merely here to help.”
The elderly neighbor’s smile seemed genuine, and Hannah sighed in resignation. She had made a promise to her children. And if there was one ironclad rule for this household and her parenting style, it was this: if we make a promise, we keep it. There was always a chance that the coach would fail to show.
“I’ll take a quick shower, and then I’ll try my hand at an updo. I haven’t done one of those in ages, but I’m sure I can find a tutorial or video on the web.”
“No need to worry, Mrs. Meyer, I shall take care of it.”
Fifteen minutes later, Hannah stepped out of the bathroom, fresh from her shower. Wrapped in her bathrobe, she sat down on the chair that Frieda set out for her. Frieda, meanwhile, was already equipped with a comb, brush, hairpins, and Hannah’s antiquated curling iron.
Emi and Leon were sitting nearby on the bed and observing Frieda’s every move. “Where did you learn all this, Frieda?” asked Emi.
“Oh, I couldn’t really tell you anymore. But I will tell you one thing, my angel: no matter what time period they lived in, women have always liked to make themselves pretty.”
Emi nodded as if she already knew what her elderly neighbor meant. She had gotten her barrettes and headbands and was putting one after the other in her hair. Even Leon ended up wearing a pair of barrettes.
Frieda carefully brushed Hannah’s long hair, which was already showing a few gray strands. They weren’t obvious among her dark-blonde hairs, which was why Hannah hadn’t yet felt the need to color it. But it wouldn’t be long before she would have to give in.
Hopefully her elderly neighbor wouldn’t give her an embarrassingly old-fashioned hairstyle. Nervous, Hannah attempted to peer at Frieda’s hands, but she wasn’t at allsuccessful in figuring out what the elderly lady was trying to do with her long hair. The standing mirror was behind her, so she couldn’t use that to take a peek.
Her neighbor’s hands moved through her hair as if she had already practiced the movements and done nothing but that for the past thirty years. The time just flew by. Just as Hannah was starting to relax under Frieda’s experienced hands and had almost fallen asleep, Frieda was suddenly standing before her and eyeing her critically. A moment later, her pointy face broke into a radiant smile. “I’m done, Mrs. Meyer,” she announced. “What do you think?”
Now Hannah really was getting nervous. Slowly, she rose from her chair, faced the full-length mirror, and turned to either side. Her hair had been curled and pinned to the back of her head, and Frieda had stuck in a couple of pins with white pearls. With a satisfied smile, Hannah surveyed the mountain of piled-up curls. The hairstyle wasn’t one of the fashionable kinds to be found in the latest magazines, but it was more than suitable for her dress and a ball. Hannah had to smile as she looked at herself. An unexpected feeling of anticipation welled up inside her.
“Now put on the dress. After that, we’ll turn to your face, just for a moment—and by then it will be seven o’clock!” Frieda clapped her hands. Since when had she taken over the high command?
Hannah put on the evening dress and took another look in the mirror. Astonished, she stood still. She hadn’t known she could still look like this. But when as a single mother could she even find time to get all done up, especially since there were no occasions in her life that would call for it?
