On Becoming Miss Louisa Harper
of New York and Newport: 4

 

Quinn and Ricky talk things out and Quinn officially begins working as Louisa,
modeling Gilded Age clothing, etc, for visitors.

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Author's Note: Thank you for all of the comments, pro and con. They really help me to be better. Also, I apologize for the length of time between installments. This is a very busy time of year at my real life job and that really disrupted my writing schedule.~Clara
 
This version of On Becoming Miss Louisa Harper of New York and Newport: 4 has been updated with many corrections towards spelling and grammar.~Sephrena.
 
Image Credit: Image created through the use of ai at https://perchance.org/beautiful-people .~Sephrena.

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Chapter 4

From 'The Autobiography of Miss Louisa Harper'

~ "The July Fourth holiday was always a huge event at Golden Bluffs, as it was at all Newport estates. Most notables of Boston, New York and Washington would vie for invitations to spend the holiday at Golden Bluffs, The Breakers or The Elms, and Independence Day in 1890 was grandest that anyone could ever recall. Despite the social stature of most of our guests, the holiday was dominated by a handsome bureaucrat from The United States Civil Service Commission named Theodore Roosevelt who's ebullient personality and gregarious nature dominated every moment of weekend. Although the Roosevelts were an old and powerful New York family, Newport society was not necessarily welcoming to their outspoken views on social and political reform. Nevertheless, you could hear Teddy's laughter and reedy voice echoing through every hallway, while his lovely wife, Edith, befriended every woman at Golden Bluffs, including every cook, maid and dishwasher.

Mother was a bit annoyed that Teddy so dominated her affair, and Father avoided speaking to him as much as possible. In private, Father would rail about 'the man's insistent denial of political realities' and his 'blind support of radicals like Henry Cabot Lodge,' who was also in attendance that weekend.

On the week since our first date, Lanny had become a constant presence in my life. As many men of our strata did, Lanny avoided being in New York City during the oppressive heat of the summer. It was a wretched and smelly place at all times, but in the summer, the smell of rotten food, horse manure, dead animals and human urine, in areas outside of the fashionable neighborhoods, was more than anyone could stand. We were lucky enough to have the option of retreating to Newport, a place that was easily accessible by boat, so the men could still conduct business while enjoying the fresh air.

Lanny, as did Father, would work most mornings, emerging from his room at lunch time, then spend the beautiful summer afternoons escorting me around the estate or into the quaint village of Newport to do some shopping. I'd forgiven his remarks made on the veranda that day a few weeks earlier and now he seemed to offer only support and affection, even holding my hand when out in public, a sign of affection rarely made in our sphere.

Aware of my sister, Miranda's tragic romantic history, cautiously, I had begun to hope that Lanny and I might have a long and happy life together."
 

~^~
 

Quinn sat up straighter on the couch and nodded to Ann, indicating that he would speak to Ricky after all. When the young man entered, his typical air of good humor was not present. Instead, his brow was furrowed with concern and his shoulders slumped just a bit. He did, however, remember to thank Ann for allowing him in.

As he passed her, Ann made a sign to Quinn that she would be in the kitchen if she was needed.

Ricky forced a smile as he sat on the couch, but looked away to think. When he looked back in Quinn's direction, the forced smile was back. "Hi."

"Hi." Quinn didn't smile. His stomach was in knots, but the mere presence of Ricky was filling those knots with butterflies, too.

"Look... Quinn... I don't know how our signals got so badly crossed tonight, but... I really, really like you. Do you like me at all?"

"Of course I do, Ricky," Quinn admitted, "but... I'm just... confused. I thought that tonight was just a casual thing. I didn't realize that it was going to get so romantic. I guess it just spooked me a bit - ESPECIALLY since, until the moment you kissed me, I thought you were gay and just wanted to be friends. I'm sorry, I'm just not... ready... for this kind of thing, I guess."

Ricky nodded. "I get it."

He looked so sad that Quinn had to say something. "Like I told you earlier, my life is weird..."

"Yeah, yeah, I understand. The accident and recovery and all that. I guess that damage like that is hard to get past."

"I'm not damaged, Ricky." Quinn sounded sullen. "I was hurt and I was broken, but I'm not any more. I'm not damaged anymore."

'I know. I didn't mean it to sound that way. Look... I don't want you to get the wrong idea about me, Quinn. I really am a nice guy. A nice, straight guy who would love to date you, but... if that's not in the cards, then I guess I'm a nice, straight guy who wants to be your friend. Is that a possibility? Could we, maybe be friends, at least?"

Quinn nodded. "I'd like to be your friend, Ricky, I really would, but if you're harboring any hope that this will turn romantic, then I have to tell you that it probably won't."

He nodded. "Can you at least tell me why?"

Quinn thought about that, but didn't answer.

"I mean, are you gay?" Ricky asked. Quinn looked at him with confusion. Ricky went on, "I mean... are you a lesbian? I'm sorry. I'm really confused right now and I'm not sure which term people prefer. You know what I mean, though."

Quinn looked around the room - anywhere but at Ricky. "I'm... not a lesbian. I'm..." he just couldn't say the truth. "... complicated, Ricky. Like I told you earlier, I'm weird. Everything about my life is weird. I'm not who or what you think I am - heck, I'm not even what I always thought I was. I'm a... Argh... My friend Barbara says that I stopped maturing emotionally at fourteen because I was in seclusion for so long. Maybe she's right. Maybe you're right. Maybe I just am... damaged. I don't know, but I'm just not... normal."

Ricky huffed a little. Self pity was a tough defense to break through, but if anyone deserved to play that card now and again, it was Quinn.

"Quinn... like I said before, after all you've been through, your very existence miraculous and part of me feels that I was actually... meant... to meet you, because the moment I saw you, I felt like had known you my whole life." He laid his hand on Quinn's. "Let's be friends, ok? Let's spend time together and help each other like friends do. I'll be there for you and you'll be there for me, alright? No expectations. No demands. Just friends. You can teach me about Louisa Harper and everything that goes on at Golden Bluffs and I'll ruin show tunes by singing along with them in the car. Sound good?"

Quinn turned his hand over so he could embrace Ricky's. He wanted so badly to just tell him the truth about his feelings and his chromosomes, but all of that was just a lot more than he could say. A lie this big couldn't last forever, but he just couldn't tell him the truth right now. "Sounds good."

"Ok." Ricky stood and said, "I have this friend named Pat and, well, when I say goodbye to Pat, we always kiss each other's cheeks. Would that be ok?"

Quinn stood. "That would be lovely.

Ricky leaned forward and kissed Quinn's soft cheek and Quinn kissed Ricky's.

"That was nice," Ricky smiled.

"It was. I bet that Pat enjoys your goodbye kisses, too."

"Maybe, but it was nicer to kiss your cheek."

Quinn thought that was an odd thing to say. "Why's that?"

"Because, when I kiss Pat goodbye, his beard always tickles me."

That made Quinn smile. "You're a funny guy."

"And handsome. I'm quite the catch. Let me pick you up after work tomorrow and we'll have something to eat before class, ok?"

"Dutch treat?" Quinn asked to insure it wasn't a date.

"Dutch!? Oh, my God, you're a racist!" Ricky pretended to be shocked.

Quinn laughed and playfully slapped his arm. "I'm serious. We pay for our own food, ok?"

"If you insist. I'm working an early shift tomorrow so I'll be done around two. What time are you done?"

Quinn shrugged. "It seems to vary. Sometime between three thirty and five, I guess. The museum isn't officially open for the season, yet. That happens on Saturday."

Ricky nodded. "Ok. Tell you what - I'll head over toward Newport around three. I have some errands to run and I can do them all in town here. When you're done, send me a text and I'll come up and pick you up."

"Ok. I'll see you then."

They both walked to the door and said goodnight before Ricky gave Quinn one last smile and walked to his car and drove away. Quinn stayed at the door watching until the red tail lights had long disappeared.

"So?" Ann asked when Quinn had closed the door. She was leaning on the wall in the hallway. It was obvious that she'd been there for a little while watching Quinn as Quinn watched Ricky's car drive away.

Quinn shrugged and gave a small smile. "I guess we're still friends, but it's still pretty complicated."

"Life is always complicated, Quinn, but you could have made it less so if you'd just told him the truth."

He laughed a little and shook his head. "So, what should I say? 'Oh, by the way, Ricky, I have a penis?' That would go over well, wouldn't it?"

Ann shook her head. She had no interest in escalating things, especially not this late at night, but she had to speak her mind. ''No, Quinn, but... I wasn't really eavesdropping, but I heard some of what you were saying and, to be honest, there were a couple of times that it seemed like it would have made sense to have just said, 'Look, I think I need to explain to you that I am not really a girl. I took a job at Golden Bluffs and I had to dress this way. I still want to be friends, but it's important that you understand who I really am.'"

"Yeah. There were a couple of times that I almost said something like that, too, but I just can't say it. Not right now."

"I understand, but you know that the longer this goes on, the harder it will be to tell him, right?"

"I know, but..." he sniffled a little and Ann suspected that he was done talking about it. "...I Kinda need to get to bed."

"Alright, honey," Ann patted his cheek. "It's been a long day for you, I know. Go on up and get ready. You can wear one of the nighties I bought you or one of mom's. I'll be up after I lock up. I think we'll just braid your hair tonight. I'll explain it to Barbie. She's got a set of hot rollers that will take care of you when you get to Golden Bluffs tomorrow."
 

~^~
 

"This isn't going to hold as well as usual," Barbara said, fussing to help Quinn with his hair. "The hot rollers do an ok job, but the overnight set is better - especially with your stick-straight hair." She shook her head. She grabbed a massive can of hairspray and sprayed and sprayed and sprayed his hair. "Alright, I guess that will have to do." She scowled and shook her head. "You know, you're going to need a perm at some point, Quinny. Your hair is naturally really straight and doesn't hold a curl very well. You need some wave and body for this kind of hairdo. Louisa aside, it would look really nice on you, too."

Quinn was distracted and didn't respond. He'd been mopey since Barbara had picked him up that morning, barely talking in the car and requiring constant prodding to get ready. Maybe she'd been pushing him too hard and he was too tired, but she suspected that something had happened on his date the previous night.

"I can make an appointment at my salon, if you'd like to give it a try. It'd certainly make sleeping easier."

Still no engagement from Quinn.

Frustrated, she tossed her brush onto the countertop and dropped herself into a chair with its back to the mirror, facing Quinn.

"What's the matter?" Quinn asked, as if aware of Barbara for the first time.

"What's the matter? With me, you mean? What's the matter with me? Quinn, I've been talking to you all morning and barely getting a grunt in return. So, forget about me - What's the matter with you?"

"Oh." He frowned and looked down at the lace ladened combination he wore. "I don't know, Barbara... I think I'm just... confused... and maybe a little frustrated."

"About what. Quinny? The job? You're doing great, here. You look great and Monica says that when she's asks you questions about Louisa, she hasn't been able to stump you once. So...?"

Quinn remained quiet.

"Ahh... the date, right? What happened?" Barbara's voice was gentle.

"I don't know," he said as he shook his head. "I had a great time and it seemed like he did too."

"But...?

"But..." Quinn sighed. "Well... turns out... he's not gay, and... like you said all along... he's kind of into me."

Barbara nodded. "Is that a bad thing?"

Quinn was shocked by the question. "Barbara... he thinks I'm a girl."

'Did you explain that you're not?"

"What's with you and Annie!? You both seem to think this is the easiest thing in the world to deal with. Like it would be the most logical thing in the world to just tell someone something like that in the middle of a conversation. Like - 'What's your favorite movie?' 'Spaceballs, how about you?' 'Oh, mine's The Avengers.' 'Oh, by the way... you know how I look all pretty and all, well, I'm really a guy. So, who's your favorite singer?' Why can't you guys see how that conversation would end? I'd end up in the hospital, again."

Barbara laid her hand on Quinn's arm. "Oh, Quinny... Things are different today. People are more understanding."

He laughed at that. "Really? Then why haven't we announced to everyone here that I'm a guy? Because it is not normal. I don't mean that it's some kind of a perversion or anything. I just mean... it's not the norm... you know? And if someone wants to have a relationship with a girl, the last thing he wants that girl to have..." he sighed. "... is a penis."

'Quinn!" Barbara sounded very surprised. "There's no reason to assume that going out on a few dates will lead to sex! God! I've gone out with lots of guys and I've only had sex with... well... that's none of your business, but I certainly haven't had sex with all them."

Quinn looked her in the eye. "But you weren't deceiving them about who you are. Barbara... I just wanted a friend and then... all of a sudden... I wanted to be his girlfriend. And I can't. And I'm sorry, but..."

"That makes you sad, right?"

He nodded.

"I'm sorry, Quinny." She gave him a sad smile. "So... what happens now?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. We agreed to still be friends and he wants to talk about last night. We're getting a sandwich before class tonight."

"And he doesn't suspect anything?"

"Why should he? You turned me into a pretty girl, right? Why should he question that?" When he saw a shadow cross her face, he spoke again, "Oh, don't worry. I'm not blaming you. The thing is..." he looked in the mirror, "... that girl, there... Louisa... that's me. That's the real me. That's who I want to be. That's the person I'm happy being. I just kind of suck at being Quinn."

"Well... if it makes you feel any better... I kind of suck at being Barbara, too. Being Louisa seems a lot easier, sometimes."

Suddenly, Barbara stood and her whole demeanor changed. "Alright, then. Take your hair down and brush it out."

"Why? Do I have to put it up again after that?"

"Nope. I think you need a few hours out among real people to get used to your feminine persona."

"But Monica is coming in at..."

"I'll let her know, don't worry. She says you're ready, anyway." She pulled out her phone and dialed her mother's assistant. "Hi, Jess. This is Barbara. Listen, let my mom know that I need to leave for a few hours and I'm taking Quinn with me. Yeah. We have to pick up a few things for him. Ok. Great. Thanks, Jess. Bye." She looked at Quinn. "Let's go."

"Where?"

"Well," Barbara chuckled, "we really should be headed to a spa to get you a massage so you can relax, but we don't have time for that, and even if we did, your sister would kill me if I spent that kind of money on you. So - We are going to get ourselves a mani/pedi."

"A...?" Quinn suddenly realized what she meant. "We're getting our nails done?"

"We are." Barbara grabbed her purse and handed Quinn his. "Have you ever had one?"

"No," he admitted. "I was a guy until a few days ago."

"Oh, poo," she laughed. "Lots of men have their nails manicured."

"Yeah?"

"Of course. There used to be nail girls in every barber shop in America. You've seen them in old movies, right? Even in 'The Untouchables,' Capone is getting his nails done while his hair is being cut."

"Huh. I never noticed," Quinn remarked as he followed her into the parking lot. 'So... they're just going to trim and polish our nails, then?"

Barbara chuckled as she pulled her door open. "Now, Quinny... what fun would that be?"
 

~^~
 

From 'The Autobiography of Miss Louisa Harper'

~ "Until I was twelve, my childhood activities at Golden Bluffs were no different than the activities of my male cousins or the boys from the surrounding estates. We ran through the fields and along the beaches, practiced archery, explored the woods and caves and sailed or rowed small boats on the inlets and ponds surrounding us.

During that summer of 1887, though, things changed. My parents, who had previously been focused solely on Miranda's tragic love life and had taken very little interest in me or my activities, suddenly began to focus their attention on my behavior and how it would impact my future. The reason for their sudden interest was a cut, well, more accurately described as a slash, on my left hand caused by a sudden wind, a full sail and a coarse rope. When I presented the wound for bandaging, I was told by Father that, 'Your boyhood days are over,' and Mother declared that 'Proper young ladies have soft, perfect hands. Your's are as rough as an old, Irish charwoman's.'

The virtues of clean clothes, a clean face, clean hands and clean ears were constantly being preached as I sat on the veranda, watching my former friends continuing their activities in the greater world. As my dresses became more and more elaborate and constricting, they wore less and less as they tested their strength and endurance. As they played sports and ran with abandon, I was confined to the veranda where mother, or Miranda, or a visiting aunt would grow more and more exasperated with my lack of feminine grace and guile.

Eventually, though, I did learn that I could regain some of the freedoms I'd lost by excelling at being female. I did long for my younger days of boyishness, but for every inspection that found my face rosy and clean, that found no dirt behind my ears, that found my cuticles properly pushed and my nails highly polished and trimmed just beyond my fingertips, I was given more time to myself. Time to read and write and think my own thoughts.

And so, I became the embodiment of the feminine ideal of that age. I was more gracious, more graceful, more gloriously beautiful than any Belmont, Morgan or Vanderbilt girl had ever been. I became The Princess of Newport and thus I found some level of freedom in a world that held women hostage."
 

~^~
 

The nail salon was unlike anyplace that Quinn had ever seen - or smelled. There was a businesslike efficiency to the look of the place, but the design was entirely based on pastel pinks, purples and yellows. There was no doubt that this was a 'no boys allowed' clubhouse, which made it a bit thrilling, as well as daunting. Each baby step into womanhood had felt like this. Each one was a new kind of excitement, a new exploration of the woman within and a new way to express who he truly was.

Barbara seemed to know everyone. She chatted and laughed and smiled as she caught up on the lives of the women who worked there and those who were customers as well. She also introduced Quinn to everyone and everyone was just as gregarious was Barbara. One woman complimented Quinn's dress, nearly to the point of embarrassment. When he was a boy, he had been to the barber shop with his father many times, and he heard the men and boys there speak and laugh freely, but there was always a guarded sense to their behavior. As if they could only share so much and no more. These women shared everything! Intimate details about themselves, their husbands, their children, the health of everyone they knew... some were interested in sports and spoke a bit about that, but they were never restricted to that subject. When he was a boy, the barbershop talk was limited to sports, cars and crass remarks about women. Quinn had always been take aback by the change he saw in his father when they entered the barber shop. Here was a man who always valued education and intellect above all things, but when he was waiting his turn or sitting in the chair, he would only discuss fishing, which he did rarely, or sports, which he only ever watched in small clips on the news.

They began their treatment in the back of the salon, seated in massaging chairs with drawers that pulled out from behind their calves. The drawers were filled with warm water and bath salts designed to soften the nails and calluses.

Quinn leaned back in the chair and lowered his feet into the relaxing concoction, then pressed a button on the chair and the chair grew warm and devices began to massage his neck, back, bottom and thighs. Even through the corset he was wearing, he could feel the chair relaxing the hard working muscles. Had his day ended with just ten minutes of that luxury, he would have felt wonderful, but it did not.

After just about ten minutes, a woman arrived and sat in front of him. She introduced herself as 'Sunny,' and used a towel to lift his left foot from the drawer.

"You have soft feet," she commented. "Nice straight toes, too. You must not wear a lot of pointy toed shoes."

"To tell you the truth, Sunny," Barbara offered as another woman began working on Barbara's left foot as well, "Quinny never wore heels at all until this week, and I'm the one who forced her into it. She only wears high quality heels, though. "

"That's good," Sunny smiled up at Quinn. "Cheap shoes will ruin your toes. Stick with good ones. I am surprised, though. Girls your age usually start wearing heels pretty regularly. How old are you, honey? Fourteen? Fifteen? Sixteen?"

Quinn smiled, unsure of how to answer that without looking foolish, but Barbara answered for him. She was laughing as she explained, "Quinny is just a late bloomer. She's twenty one, actually, but she looks younger until she's done her makeup to go out. Then, she's a heartbreaker."

"Oh, I bet," Sunny laughed along with Barbara. "You're a very pretty, girl, Winnie."

"It's 'Quinny,'" he corrected. "My real name is Quinn."

"Oooh, very pretty."

From there, Quinn learned about the exquisite pain and relief of having his toes and nails dug and maneuvered and groomed with sharp little tools. Each little excavation into his skin was followed by a feeling of relief and a small, healing rub from Sunny. She dug and shaped and filed the toes one each foot for at least ten minutes each before asking, "What color would you like them?"

Not expecting the question, Quinn hemmed and hawed for a moment before saying, "I think they look great just like that."

"Clear, then?" Sunny asked, reaching to grab a bottle from a nearby cart.

Quinn nodded, but Barbara intervened. "No, no, no, no! She's just being a coward, Sunny. Bright red, please. Something that really draws attention to her perfect little toes."

Sunny nodded and smiled as she grabbed the appropriate bottle.

Quinn spoke to Barbara in a low voice. "No one can even see my toes when I'm dressed as Louisa."

"I know," Barbara smiled broadly, "but summer is coming and you'll want to wear pretty sandals and open toed shoes. Trust me, Quinny. You WANT your toes to be pretty. Men love it. They don't realize it, but they do."

Layer after layer of beautiful, bright red enamel was spread in gentle tickles across his toes, until, at last, his toenails were perfectly smooth and shone like Christmas lights at the end of his feet. They were charming little gems that wiggled and caught his attention. They were a foolish little bit of feminine finery that served no purpose whatsoever, but were just there as a bit of indulgence.

And yet...

When Quinn looked at them, his heart beat just a little faster. How pretty! How lovely! How absolutely delightful to have pretty feet!? Imagine - pretty feet. How wonderful it was to have these gorgeous bits of color to enjoy.

"You like them?" Sunny asked.

"I love them!" Quinn answered honestly.

"Good. Wait here while they dry. I'll set up my manicure station and be back for you in a few minutes."

"That lifted your spirits a bit, didn't it?" Barbara asked, smiling at how Quinn kept wiggling his toes and admiring how they looked.

"Lots." Quinn smiled. "Thank you, Barbara."

"Sadly, you can't have red fingernails. Louisa didn't color her nails."

"Why not? She wore other kinds of makeup." Quinn was a bit disappointed that his fingers and toes wouldn't match.

Barbara giggled. "For the same reason she didn't carry a cell phone, Quinn - nail polish didn't exist yet. Don't worry, though. You're getting French tips. They'll look very natural."

"What are those?"

She winked at him and smiled. "Relax. You'll like them."

And he did.

If anything, the manicure was even more relaxing and exciting than the pedicure. There was a strange sense of intimacy with Sunny as she worked his cuticles, added the acrylic nails, shaped them to be just slightly longer than his fingertips and then worked on them with various paints and enamels for an additional ten minutes each to create a very natural looking nail.

"There you go, my dear," Sunny smiled. "Perfect nails to go with anything from a sundress to a bridal gown. What do you think?"

Quinn looked at them and admired their perfect shape and brilliant sheen, and also how they made his fingers look even longer and more feminine. "They're beautiful, Sunny. Thank you!"

"You are welcome, my love. Now, when your nails are not limited by work restrictions, you come on back here and see me and I'll help you pick out something really pretty and fun for you. Ok?"

"Thank you," Quinn smiled. "I will."

He turned when he heard Barbara speaking into her phone. "No, that's great, Andrea. We'll be there in twenty minutes. Thanks!"

When Quinn gave her an inquisitive look, she smiled and raised her eyebrows. "Congratulations, Quinny. You're about to get your first perm."

Part of Quinn felt a need to act shocked that Barbara would presume to make that kind of a decision for him, but he didn't act on that. Instead, he considered how wonderful every baby step into girlhood had been so far, and he said, "Really!?"

"Yep. A mani-pedi and a perm all in the same day. Wait until Annie hears about this!"

"You think she'll be upset about the money? I'll pay you back out of my first paycheck."

Barbara laughed. "Quinny, you needed the manicure and the perm to play Louisa. Golden Bluffs will pay for all of that."

"Then why will Annie get upset."

"Because her baby sister is growing up too quickly, Quinny. I know she's not saying anything to you about it, but I can tell. Annie's enjoying having you embrace your inner Louisa."

If the nail salon had given off the 'no boys allowed' vibe, the salon felt like a bastion of femininity. A place where women were actually transformed from mere humans to goddesses. The women waiting for service were all attractive and well kept, but the women leaving were gorgeous.

And gorgeous sounded pretty nice to Quinn right about then.

The curler-type contraptions that were rolled into Quinn's hair were very different than the hard plastic curlers that Ann used. These were spongy and bendable. Instead of the straight rows that Ann created in his hair at night, the stylist, Andrea, seemed to place them in a bit of a haphazard arrangement around his head. When she was finished, though, Quinn could see a symmetry to the arrangement.

From an earlier time, he could remember his mother coming home from the salon with a new perm and the smell of her hair would send everybody in the house scurrying to their rooms to escape the fetid odor. The solution they used on Quinn, though, was surprisingly inoffensive.

"Pleeeeeaaaase don't tell me that this is your NATURAL color, baby," the very expressive hairdresser said as she fawned over Quinn's hair, rolling those odd instruments into his red mane.

"It is," Quinn smiled. His hair color and fullness had always been admired by women and ridiculed by boys. It had made him self conscious as a child, but since, during his rehabilitation, most of his care givers had been women, he had grown proud of the rich red color.

Andrea looked at Barbara and rolled her eyes dramatically. "What are you doing to me, Barbie? You can't bring someone with hair like this into my salon! If people find out that this color is available in nature, I'll have to close up shop and start selling Avon, door to door."

"Or," Barbara smiled, "you could tell people that YOU can give them hair like THAT."

"Oh, Barbie, I wish I could. I can only do so much, though. You know the old proverb: 'Poems are made by fools like me, but only God can make hair that color.'"

Barbara chuckled. "No. I didn't know that one."
 

~^~
 

"Hello?" Ricky called into the 'employees only' doorway. "Anyone here?"

Barbara came into the entrance area and waved. "You must be Ricky. Quinn's getting changed. Come on in."

He followed her into her workshop and looked about at the clothes and material on the racks and shelves. "I sent Quinn to the administration office across the estate. She'll be back in a few minutes." Once in the room proper, Barbara turned and folded her arms. "So... You're Ricky."

"Yes," he replied, confused, since he thought that they'd established that already.

"Ricky who is NOT gay."

Ricky looked around. Was he being Punked? "That's correct. I'm not gay."

Barbara scowled and looked him up and down.

"Is that a problem?" He asked, confused. "I mean... I never said that I was or wasn't gay, but when Quinn found out that I wasn't, she seemed almost mad about it."

"Just surprised, I suspect. She spent most of yesterday trying to convince me that you were gay and that last night's coffee get-together wasn't a real date. I think she was probably just surprised when you told her the truth."

Ricky considered that for a moment. "You know what? I'm not quite sure how appropriate it is for me to be having this conversation with Quinn's boss. I mean... this is all pretty personal, you know."

"Listen, Slick," Barbara looked towards the hallway to be sure that Quinn was not about to enter.

"Slick?" Ricky tried to interrupt. "I was never acting 'slick.'"

If Barbara had heard him, she just ignored him and continued. "Quinny and I are much more than friends."

"Oh?" Ricky asked, but then something occurred to him. "OH! You and Quinn are a couple! I'm sorry. I guess I just misunderstood the situation."

'No, no, no," Barbara laughed and waved him off. "No... Quinn and I are, most assuredly, NOT a couple, but I do love her like a sister. So, you'd better be nice to her."

"I thought that Quinn only had one sister; Ann."

"I said LIKE a sister, Ricky. We are LIKE sisters."

"I see." Now, Ricky folded his arms and looked a bit more confident. "Well, since you are so interested... I tried very hard... VERY HARD... to be nice to Quinn. I was a gentleman, I was sweet and funny and just as charming as I know how... but Quinn flipped when she realized I was straight."

"I bet," Barbara nodded.

"See... that's an odd response. Why do you think she was so shook up when I told her I was straight?"

Barbara puckered her lips as she thought. "Ahh. See, there's the real question, Ricky. The truth is... I know exactly why she behaved that way, but... I'm afraid that you'll need to figure that out by yourself. I will tell you this, though. Quinn is the toughest and most fragile person I have ever meet and that's the key to getting to know the real Quinn. Every time you discover something new about her, you're going to realize that she's exactly the opposite of who you think she is. She's tough and fragile. She's smart and naïve. She's confident and petrified."

Ricky waited for more, but Barbara had stopped speaking. "That's a bit cryptic, isn't it? She's hot and she's cold. She's tall and she's short. I sense there's something you want to tell me, so... why not just tell me?"

Barbara heard something in the hall, so she wrapped up her comments. "That would be far too easy, my friend. So... Be careful. Be gentle and don't give up. Trust me - It is going to take some effort, but Quinn is worth it."

"Yeah, but she's the one who rejected me..." Ricky started saying, Barbara cut him off with a 'Shh.'

"Hey, Quinny!" Barbara sounded bright and cheery, as opposed to her previously cryptic and maternal sound, when Quinn opened the door. "Your friend, Ricky, is here. We've been getting to know each other."

"Hi." Quinn smiled in spite of himself. Just seeing Ricky standing there made him feel better, but what he really found exciting was the way that Ricky was looking at him. "What?"

Ricky shook himself back to reality. "What? Oh... I'm sorry... I just... Your hair."

Quinn smiled as he touched his now very full locks as they fell in waves down his neck and back. "Oh, yeah. I got..." There was no point in explaining. Ricky wasn't interested in how Quinn's hair had gotten this way. He was only interested in how it made Quinn look. "Do you like it?"

What the heck kind of a question was that!? Just the night before, Quinn had made it clear that she had no interest in dating Ricky, so why ask a question like that!? What he wanted to say was that he wouldn't have believed that it was possible to find Quinn more beautiful than he already did, but the way that her hair flowed in waves and curls had risen her beauty from amazing to unbelievable. But saying that would drive Quinn away. Besides, Quinn's friend had just told him to be patient and careful.

So, instead, he said, "It's ummm... Yeah. It's nice. I mean... yeah. I like it... a lot."

Quinn smiled and blushed. "Yeah? Thanks."

Barbara watched this exchange. This was ridiculous. Just look at the two of them! They're obviously in love. This isn't the Middle Ages, or even the twentieth century, for crying out loud. People love each other and no one should question that love - especially the two people who were in love. These two just needed to come to terms with that.

"So," Quinn smiled as he gathered his purse from Barbara's counter, "you two have met each other."

"Yes," Barbara said.

"Well, no," Ricky said. "Not really. I mean.. you know that I'm Ricky, but you never told me your name."

"Barbara," she smiled and extended her hand. "My name is Barbara. Nice to meet you, Ricky."

"Oh, you're Barbara," Ricky smiled. "Quinn has mentioned you."

"Really?" She looked at Quinn. "Only good things, I hope."

"What else would I have to say?" Quinn smiled. She looked at Ricky. "Barbara helped me after the accident. She also gave me this job. She's been very good to me. She and Annie are my sisters and my closest friends."

Barbara smiled. She hadn't realized that Quinn felt that way about her.

Ricky looked at Barbara with respect. "So, you're part of the miracle that is Quinn's life. I guess I should thank you, then. I'm really happy that she's still here for me to get to know."

Geez... this kid... Barbara could see why Quinn was taken with this guy. He was an honest to goodness sweet guy.

While Barbara watched, Ricky looked more closely at Quinn and his face took on a glow as he smiled and said, "Thank you for wearing that dress."

Quinn looked down at it and blushed a bit more. "You like it?"

It was a dress that Barbara had selected, so she was pleased that Ricky liked it. It was a simple white, loose fitting, knee length affair. The smooth, unadorned bodice featured a modest scoop neckline and ruffled cap sleeves and a high, narrow, empire waistline. Below that, there was a loose abundance of material formed by three horizontal, widening circles of material, each forming a delicate, understated ruffle. The bottom of the first and second ruffled circle was sewn into a seam with the row below it, but the bottom row was a wide, relaxed ruffle that seemed to be in constant motion around Quinn's smooth, slender legs.

Barbara had run to a boutique across the street from the hair salon and picked out the dress and the plain, silk underdress that the sheer white material required while Quinn's perm was setting. When he first saw it, he thought that it looked babyish and like something that Holly Hobbie might wear, but Barbara assured him that it was a classically feminine dress that would make Quinn irresistible to Ricky.

Quinn tried to explain that attracting Ricky's attention was not really a problem, and that something less flirty would be more appropriate, but once he tried on the scrumptiously soft material and felt how the dress hung from his modest breasts, he adored the dress and looked forward to seeing Ricky's reaction to it.

Now that he'd seen Ricky's jaw drop, he was very satisfied with Barbara's choice.

Ricky shook his head in impressed bemusement. "Do I like it?" He chuckled. "You know how you look in it and you should be ashamed of yourself. Here we are trying to be friends and you show up looking like that." He shook his head, again. "You should be ashamed."

Quinn just smiled and blushed some more.

Barbara was also amused by watching this scene play out. The smitten Romeo was funny enough, but the innocent sex appeal of the flirtatious Juliet who had no idea how beautiful she really was, was just the sweetest thing she'd ever seen.

"Ok, you two," Barbara moved closer, putting a hand on Ricky's shoulder, "you should get going if you want to have an relaxed dinner before your class. Quinny, it might get chilly tonight. There's a lightweight, white cashmere sweater on rack four that will fit you. Go grab that to take with you."

"Oh, ok. Thanks." Quinn went to grab it.

When Quinn had gone, Barbara whispered to Ricky, "She's been through more than you can imagine, Ricky. Be patient and be gentle. I can see how much she likes you, but this is all very, very new to her. Don't give up on her."

Ricky looked at her with a mixture of intrigue and thanks on his face. "Did you see her in that dress? I'm not going anywhere."

"Atta boy," Barbara winked at him and Quinn reemerged from the racks.

"All set. Thanks, Barbara."

"Always my pleasure, baby," Barbara stepped away from Ricky and kissed Quinn's cheek. "Have a good night. Let me grab my purse and I'll walk out with you."

They walked out the door and down the path to the parking lot. Just as they arrived at Ricky's car, Ann emerged from her car, just a few spaces over.

"Hi," she smiled, but the smile faded as she saw Quinn's hair and dress. She looked at Barbara and shook her head. "A new dress and a perm? I thought you weren't going to spend any more money on Quinn?"

Barbara smiled and shrugged. "Oh, come on. Look at her! She's adorable! How could I not spend some money on her? Besides, we both needed some cheering up this morning. So, we got mani/pedis, then I got my color touched up and Quinny got some body installed in her hair. Then, we felt better."

Ann glanced down at Quinn's hands, saw the nicely manicured nails and shook her head. She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "You look lovely, honey. Beautiful, actually, but you need to stop Barbie from spending money on you. Ok?"

"Ok," Quinn smiled, knowing that Ann's attitude was just a show for Barbara's sake. "You're all dressed up, too. Are you going out to dinner?"

Ann nodded. "It's payday, so I am taking Barbie out to thank her for helping you so much. I suppose that I should take her someplace even more expensive than I'd planned, now that she's spent even more money on you."

"She's just being Annie," Barbara laughed. "You two go have a good time."

"Ok," Quinn smiled and gave his sister a kiss.

"You look amazing, honey," Ann whispered.

"Thanks," he smiled. "I'll see you at home."
 

~^~
 

From 'The Autobiography of Miss Louisa Harper'

~ "Late in July, I needed to return to Manhattan Island for two days to have my dress for Miranda's wedding fitted and to visit the jewelry store at fifteen Union Square West to view the settings Mr Tiffany and his designers had created to accompany my ensemble. Mother was occupied with the preparations for the upcoming nuptials and was unable to accompany me. So, Langdon and Mother Beech-Thorndyke agreed to act as my chaperones.

We left Golden Bluffs as the sun rose and made the crossing from Aquidneck to Manhattan on Lanny's small Yacht in very short order. We traveled from the docks to the home of Mr and Mrs J. P. Morgan who had offered to act as our hosts for our one night in the hot, smelly city. Although the Morgan's owned a beautiful home in Newport - Beacon Rock sat dramatically on a stone ridge that sat high above Narragansett Bay - Mr Morgan's business interests would not allow him to be away from the city for the entire season. The Morgans tended to take advantage of their New Port estate in short visits, but their wealth was so vast that they could easily maintain a full staff at each of their homes, while my family would move the majority of our Fifth Avenue staff to Golden Bluffs for the entire summer.

Langdon spent the afternoon at his Manhattan offices while Mother Beech-Thorndyke, Mrs John Pierpont Morgan, Miss Frances to me , accompanied me to our clothier's salon. My dress was a work of art that clung tightly to my torso, then flared out in an elegant skirt that was bound to be the envy of every woman at Miranda's wedding. The diamond ensemble created by Tiffany and Company was equally beautiful and would be a breathtaking addition to an already stunning gown.

Both the dress and the jewelry received passing grades from Mother Beech-Thorndyke and Miss Frances, so arrangements were made to have them delivered to Golden Bluffs.

When the Morgan's carriage dropped us off in front of their residence at 219 Fifth Avenue, Lanny was waiting, dressed elegantly in his evening jacket. He offered me his arm and invited me to walk the halfblock south to dine at Delmonico's restaurant. Mother Beech-Thorndyke and Miss Frances were horrified that I would even consider going out to dinner without changing into evening clothes, but Lanny assured me that I looked lovely and, to tell you the truth, I felt that the dress I was already wearing was more lovely than the other two I'd brought with me.

Delmonico's had a beautiful dinning room. The highly decorated coffered ceilings, gas powered, ball shaped chandeliers, immaculate carpets, pristine linen wear and the smells of the finest food in Manhattan made the place nearly magical. Lanny had 'Lamb Chop Robinson,' a savory meal of thin, fried pork chops covered in Delmonico's Robinson sauce, while I had 'Lobster Newberg,' a delicious meal featuring boiled lobster meat that was then fried in butter and served in a sauce made from cream, cognac, sherry and eggs, with just a dash of cayenne pepper. Since the restaurant catered to an adults only clientele, I had only been allowed to dine there on two previous occasions. On each, I had ordered the Lobster Newberg and I found the dish so delicious that I could foresee no reason to ever try anything else on their menu.

The feeling of emancipation that I felt in that restaurant was exhilarating. Never before had I been allowed to be escorted by a man to a destination where everyone treated me like an adult. No Mother, no Mother Beech-Thorndyke, no Miss Frances. Just Lanny and me in a crowded restaurant learning about each other. Our wants, our needs, our ambitions, our achievements, of failures. By the time we finished our dinner and took the short walk back to the Morgan home, I felt as if I actually knew my betrothed and that a part of my heart had developed deep feelings for him. I believe he felt the same."
 

~^~
 

The Newport Creamery was an ice cream and sandwich place designed in the same manner as many other mid-twentieth century ice cream and sandwich places. A central work area was surrounded by a seating area featuring a combination of a bar and spinning stools, or small booths with fixed tables and benches. In short, it was nothing fancy.

Ricky held the door open and let Quinn enter the restaurant first. It wasn't very crowded and there were some booths available, and plenty of spinning stools up front, but Ricky said, "Let's go around the back. I have a friend working the grill. I want you to meet him."

So they walked around the bar and booths and sat on two of the stools in the rear.

"Joe!" Ricky called to the young man working the grill. "Joe! Hey, Joe!"

The young man looked up and turned towards the voice calling his name. "Rick! Hey, man, how are you doing?" He stepped away from the grill for just a moment to fist bump Ricky, then he returned to the hot surface, while also talking.

"Joe. This is Quinn. The girl I told you about."

The cook looked at Quinn and made a face that indicated he was impressed. "The girl from your dance class? Oh, hey, Quinn. It's nice to meet you. This guy hasn't shut up about you since he got home Tuesday night. Now that I see you, though, I can understand why. I'm Joe, by the way. I'm this guy's room mate at URI."

"Nice to meet you, Joe," Quinn smiled and then looked at Ricky. "Haven't shut up about me, huh? Has anything you've told him been positive?"

Joe let out a big belly laugh. "Are you kidding!? All I've been hearing is, 'Quinn is so smart,' and 'Quinn dances so well,' and 'Quinn is the most beautiful girl to have ever lived. She makes Helen of Troy, Beyoncé and Zoe Saldana all look ugly by comparison.'"

Ricky turned and faced Quinn with a sheepish grin. "I just said you are very pretty. I didn't say any of that other stuff."

Joe pushed down on a counter bell as he raised two plates onto a small, raised counter in front of the grill. "Order up!" He called to the wait staff. Then he wiped his hands and walked over to where the couple was seated. "So, I see that Rick is sparing no expense by bringing you to the nicest place in town. I guess he really wants to impress you. Nothing shows a lady a good time like a grilled burger and a shake! Am I right?"

Quinn smiled. It was nice to be the center of attention in this way - because someone likes you and not because you're that poor kid who was in the accident. "We're just grabbing something light before our class," he explained to Ricky's friend. "Besides, I was only here once before and that was a long time ago."

"Dance class?" Joe chuckled. "You have no idea how much fun I have poked at this guy for taking dance class, but if I'd known that there was a chance of meeting a beautiful girl there, I would have gone with him."

"I've been going on and off for two years and Quinn is the first girl I've meet who was under thirty," Ricky smiled as he glanced at Quinn.

Joe smiled and looked around. "It looks like it's only Amy taking orders right now. Beth must be on break. What can I get you guys?"

"Want a burger?" Ricky asked. "They're pretty good, here."

The answer was, of course, yes. Quinn would have lived to have had a burger, but he thought about the hazards of eating one in this white dress and he decided against it. "Umm... maybe something lighter."

Joe offered some advice. "I'd stay away from the tuna - it smells a little funny. We have salads, but they're mostly iceberg lettuce, so nothing special. How about a grilled cheese?"

"That sounds great," Quinn smiled. "Thank you."

"My pleasure. So, a burger for monsieur and a grilled cheese for mademoiselle," Joe put on a terrible French accent. "Perhaps a beverage as well? May I interest you in a fine Coca Cola, or perhaps a wonderfully effervescent Sprite?"

"I'll have a root beer," Ricky said, pretending to find his friend annoying.

"That sounds good," Quinn agreed. "I'll have a root beer, as well."

"Eh bien," Joe said with a quick bow. "I shall return."

"He thinks he's hilarious," Ricky laughed as he looked at Quinn.

"He is," Quinn laughed back. "So... why do you take ballroom dancing classes?"

Ricky let out a big sigh. "Ok, now, don't laugh, but... when I was a kid, my sister was in a Christmas show at the studio and they just needed a boy to come on and do one little thing. So, my mom volunteered me. Well, when a dance studio sees a boy willing to help out, they grab hold of him and never let go. I've been involved at the studio ever since. But... to tell you the truth, and please, PLEASE, never tell this to anyone..." he looked around to see if anyone could hear, then whispered, "... I really like ballroom dancing. I like the music, I like the exercise and I like the socializing, even if everyone else is two generations older than me."

"That's great," Quinn giggled. "They all seem to love you."

He shrugged. "I hope so."

Joe dropped off the two glasses of root beer and returned to his grill.

Each opened a straw and put it in the drink. Ricky immediately noticed the lipstick that Quinn's sip left behind on the straw and, for some reason, that little residue became one of the most exciting things he'd ever seen.

Quinn interrupted his thoughts by saying, "You didn't tell me you had a sister."

Ricky shook his head to clear it. "I don't."

"You just said..."

"I know, but I don't have 'A' sister. I have EIGHT sisters. I'm one of nine and I'm the only one with a 'Y' chromosome."

"Wow! Nine kids!" Quinn was very surprised.

"Yeah. That's a lot, I know. Too many, really, and waaaaay too many females to be around. No offense, I mean I like being with women, but eight, plus my mom... that's a lot of hormones."

Quinn laughed. "I bet! So... are you the baby?"

Ricky shook his head. "No. I'm fourth. I guess my parents always planned on having a big family because they named us alphabetically. Alice, Beatrice, Catherine, Dennis, Ellen, Fiona, Grace, Hannah and Isabelle. I'm Dennis, remember? That's nine kids in six years." He shook his head. "They were nuts."

"Wait," Quinn did a little math. "How can..."

Ricky held up a hand to stop her. "Alice and Bea are twins, Catherine a year later, me ten months after her, Ellie a year after me, Grace and Hannah are twins and then Bella arrived on her own, thank God."

"Wow! That's amazing," Quinn giggled. "I'm surprised they stopped at nine. Why not go for an even dozen?"

Ricky suddenly looked a bit more serious. "Because my dad left before Bella was born."

"Oh, my God."

"Yeah. It turned out that he actually had two families. He traveled a lot for work. He had us in Rhode Island and another family in Kentucky. When his other wife found out, he had to make a choice and... well... he didn't choose us."

"How did your mom cope with that? I mean... eight kids and one on the way."

"Grandpa Bill," Ricky said with a smile. "My grandfather, who is, incidentally, my father's father, was a machinist until he retired a few years ago. My grandmother had died a year before all this happened, and Grandpa Bill was living on his own in a nice little house near the bay. When my dad left and we found out that we were going to lose the house, Grandpa Bill stepped in. He sold his pretty little dream house and bought a three decker house in a nice neighborhood. Then we all moved in."

Quinn was wide eyed listening to the story.

"I think about what he did a lot. Here's a guy who worked a pretty tough job all of his life so he could retire and spend his golden years with his wife who he adores. Then, just as he's approaching retirement, his wife dies of cancer, his son turns out to be a jackass, leaving his grandchildren destitute. So he sells the house he loves, moves into the city, which is someplace he has never liked, goes from a quiet, contemplative life to a life filled with insane kids who have no idea what they did to make their dad leave them, and has to work an extra ten years to be sure he can eventually retire and still support this huge tribe of people he's been taking care of. I mean... how could he have done that?"

Quinn thought for a moment. "Have you ever asked him?"

"I have," Ricky smiled.

"What did he say?"

"He hugged me and said he was the luckiest man in the world because he got to spend his life with so many people he loved."

"Holy cow," Quinn whispered.

"Yeah." Ricky took a sip of root beer. "Remember the other night when I talked about people being damaged and you got upset? Well, that's me and my sisters. We are definitely damaged. My dad did a number on all of us, but he continues to do a number on me. I'll get letters and texts out of the blue from him saying that I'm his only son and that we need to patch things up between us... he even showed up at my dorm one time. To tell you the truth, I wasn't even sure who he was, but... every time I think I'm done thinking about him, he pops up out of nowhere again."

Joe, who had overheard a little of the conversation, placed their food on the table without saying anything.

Quinn just searched for something to say, but couldn't come up with anything.

Ricky ate one French fry, then said, "Quinn... when you talk about your life being weird... I get it. Mine is too. Sure, you're 'poor Quinn, who was in the accident,' but I was always 'poor Ricky who's father left.' I'm not comparing my struggle with yours, though. God knows I haven't been through anything like you have, and as I've said, you really are a miracle, but my life is weird, too. Maybe we were meant to find each other, you know? I mean, we've both been through some stuff and have survived and we both have people who love us and want us to have good lives. Now, I don't know if we're meant to be a couple, but... I think we're meant to be with each other. To help each other, maybe even love each other - one way or another."

A tear clung to the corner of Quinn's long eyelash, but refused to fall. He leaned over and kissed Ricky's cheek, then rested his head on Ricky's shoulder. "Ricky... I... I think you may be right and... I'm really sorry if I've been stand-off-ish. This is all really new to me. Like... in ways I can't even explain, but... you should know that I've never had a friend who I felt closer to than you. I mean that."

Ricky leaned his head on hers. "Thanks, Quinn. That really means a lot." He heaved a sigh. "I'm a heck of a date, aren't I? Come on. We need to eat up and get to class."

Quinn pulled away slowly and sat up straight. "Ok, but this is not a date." He smiled flirtatiously.

"Of course it's a date. I asked you to come to dinner with me. That's a date," Ricky flirted back.

"I'm paying for my own food so... it's NOT a date."

"No, you're not. You haven't even gotten your first paycheck, yet. I'm paying."

"No."

"Yep."

"Nope."

"Oh, yeah."

"Geez, would you two, stop!" Joe said without turning around. "Neither of you are paying for it. I'll take care of it. End of story."

Ricky chuckled. "You're the best, Joe!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," his roommate shook his head.
 

~^~
 

"Big day, honey," Ann smiled as she pulled into a parking space at Golden Bluffs. It was Saturday morning, Quinn's first day as Louisa with actual guests. "You think you're ready?"

Quinn looked at the estate and saw people pulling into parking spaces and looking excited to have a day of exploring history. "I guess I'm as ready as I'll ever be." He looked at his sister and smiled. "I guess we'll find out if I'm any good at being Louisa pretty soon. Thanks for driving me."

"No problem," she squeezed his hand. "Look, I'm going to go grocery shopping now and then head home. My phone is on, though, so, if you need anything - just to talk, or... if you need to leave... or anything... just call. Ok?"

He nodded. "You're more nervous about this than I am, aren't you?"

Ann smiled. "Possibly. I just want you to be safe, Quinn. Be careful of your back and watch out for yourself. Ok?"

He leaned over and kissed her cheek, then opened the door. "I'll be fine. Thanks, Annie. Love you."

"Love you, too, honey," Ann said, feeling a lot of anxiety watching him walk away. All week, she knew this was coming, but it felt very real, now. The previous night, Quinn had been at home - no dance class and Ricky had had to work. They'd talked a lot and she realized that Quinn had changed a lot in a very short time. There was very little boy left in him. He wasn't exactly becoming Louisa, but Louisa had somehow been guiding him all week and now, her broken little brother was a budding young woman. It was a very odd thing and one that she'd never expected to be dealing with. She just prayed that Quinn was able to handle all of this. It was a lot.
 

~^~
 

"Good morning," Monica was the consummate hostess as the first group of visitors of the season arrived. "Welcome to Golden Bluffs. I am Mrs Harper, the 'Grand Dame' of Golden Bluffs. Welcome to our home. I shall be guiding you through this part of the estate. When we reach our more private areas of our home, my youngest daughter, Louisa, will take over as your guide." Monica always made a point of stating that the guests, who were always a majority female and many were mothers with excited daughters who had read Louisa's books, would be seeing Louisa soon, to avoid having them ask about meeting her. The guests, particularly the teenaged girls, always had a million questions about daily life in the Gilded Age, but they wanted those questions to be answered by Louisa - even if Louisa was just an actress. It was not unlike a full grown adult wanting to go to Walt Disney World to meet Goofy. Everyone knew that Goofy was just a kid in a costume, but the need to see the character was important to some people.

Quinn was listening from the top of the stairs where he remained unseen behind a corner. He was ready for this, he knew he was, but it was nerve wracking nonetheless. It would not only be the first time he'd have to do this particular job, it would be the first time he was alone and portraying Louisa, wearing replicas of her clothes and her hair style, in front of a crowd of people.

He took a deep breath and calmed himself. Easy-peasy. Just focus on Louisa's story and don't trip on your skirts!

He was wearing a lovely, soft blue dress that day. The the soft, modest neckline traveled along his modest cleavage and kept his modesty with a lace inlay that bridged the bottom of the opening. Three quarter length, massively puffed sleeves that narrowed to sleeves so well fitted that they needed to be buttoned on his lower arms and a lower bodice that buttoned tightly to emphasize his corseted waist led to the flowing blue, narrow bell shaped skirt that reached the floor and created a perfectly female silhouette.

"Excuse me, Miss," a staff member dressed as a maid spoke from behind Quinn, startling him a bit. "The tour group is about to come upstairs. You really should be waiting for them at your vanity."

"Oh," Quinn nodded. "Ok. Sorry."

The maid smiled. "No need to be sorry, Miss." She led Quinn to Louisa's bedroom.

"Thank you," Quinn said, as he sat. "I'm Quinn, by the way. I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

The maid smiled and gave a very shallow curtsy. "I'm sorry, Miss, but I don't have a name and your name is Miss Louisa, Miss. Those are the only names that we use in public areas, Miss.'

Quinn shook his head. "Oh, yeah... of course. Sorry. It's my first day..."

"No, Miss, it's not." The maid was a bit frustrated. "Miss Louisa has lived here every summer of her life, Miss. Now, the tour group is coming up the stairs and you need to be ready to greet them when they arrive."

"Ok..."

"No, Miss. Miss Louisa never uses modern slang, Miss."

Quinn took a second to compose himself, before looking at the maid. A look of confidence and privilege appeared on his face. "Thank you. I am ready to receive guests, now."
 

~^~
 

"What's this, now?" Ann muttered as her house came into view. The grocery store had been crowded, not as crowded as it would be when the summer season began in earnest, but just the normal Saturday morning kind of crowded. Normally, she'd have gone a bit earlier to avoid the crowd, but she really wanted to drive Quinn that morning just to be sure he was ok. Now, as she pulled up to her home, she saw an old Ford Ranger parked in front of her house with a ramp coming off of its tailgate. The small pickup truck was in decent condition for a vehicle that was probably thirty years old, but it's location, in front of her house, was puzzling.

As she pulled into the driveway, something else was puzzling caught her attention. Her hedges, the hedges that were a massive pain in the butt to keep looking nice, had been groomed into long, box shaped decorations. Also, her front lawn had been mown and trimmed, and the sound of a lawn mower was coming from her back yard.

Oh, for crying out loud. Some damned lawn service had come to her house by mistake. Geez, this was going to upset someone and probably end up costing her money that she really did not have to spend.

She walked around the corner and walked along the side yard, the sound of the engine getting louder as she walked, driving her anxiety higher.

Just as she reached the back corner of the house, a man in khaki shorts, a dirty, sleeveless tee shirt and a loose, unbuttoned, long sleeved work shirt stepped into her path, surprising both of them.

"Oh, hi!" The older man with a few days growth of beard and a bent rimmed baseball cap said with a smile. "You must be Ann, right?"

He caught her completely off guard and it took a moment or two for her to respond. "Umm, yeah... yes... I'm Ann. What... what is going on here? I didn't call anyone to do any work here. Who authorized this?"

"Authorized?" The man chuckled. "I'm sorry. No one 'authorized' us to do this. Let me explain. My name is Bill. I believe you know my grandson."

The man pointed to the younger man riding an older model, John Deere lawn tractor in the back yard.

Ann shaded her eyes and looked closely. "Is that... Ricky? What's this all about?"

The man smiled broadly. "I'm sorry if we caught you off guard, Miss, but Rick and I were working in our yard early this morning and he was talking about... Quinn, I believe her name is. She's your sister, right? Well, anyway, Rick was telling me how he wanted to do something special for her, but he didn't have a lot of money. So, I asked him what he could do that wouldn't cost any money that would make this girl's life better. He said that you had a great house, but the yard could use some attention. So... here we are. I drove him over because my old truck isn't as reliable as I'd like it to be - I really only use it to go to flea markets - and I didn't want him to be stranded on the side of the road. Anyway - when we got here, you weren't home, so I figured that we'd just do the job and disappear, like the elves that made the shoes."

"The elves..."

"You know. The Elves and The Shoe Maker. The children's story? No? Well. It doesn't matter. I hope you're ok with this. He's a good kid and he's trying to impress your sister. She sounds like an unusual girl."

"Unusual?" Ann looked at the older man who smiled back.

"Special." He winked. "I've never seen Rick so smitten. She must be something."

Ricky was driving back in their direction and spotted Ann talking to his grandfather. He waved and smiled, broadly.

Ann's first reaction was to scream that this invasion was a big violation of her trust and that coming onto her property was just not acceptable, but then she looked at the yard. The bushes that boarded her property were beautifully trimmed and the refuse from the trimming had even been raked up and tossed into the compost heap in the rear of the yard. So, rather than chastise the older man and his love struck grandson, Ann shook her head and smiled. "Wow. This... this is a really big help, Bill. I can't thank you both enough. The yard looks great - better than it has for a long time. Thank you."

"Don't thank me. Thank Ricky. He's a good kid. Really he is."

"I know that. Look... I need to get my groceries into the house. Let me at least make you some lunch to thank you."

Grandpa Bill's lower lip protruded for a moment before he smiled. "Lunch would be great. Thank you."
 

~^~
 

"Did you have to wear a corset every day?" The fourteen year old girl asked after Quinn had completed his scripted presentation.

"Every day!" Quinn smiled. "It becomes like second nature when you wear on all of the time."

"I've heard that corsets can push your organs around inside of you. Did that ever happen to you?" Another girl of approximately the same age asked.

"That is very true and I know a few girls my age who did some real damage to themselves by over tightening their corsets. Mother was always very strict with me about my corset lacing. Tight enough to give me the proper form for a young lady of my day, but never tight enough to do any damage. It did shape me, though. After years of corset training, my waist became permanently shaped by them."

"Are you wearing one now?" The first girl asked.

"I am,"Quinn smiled.

"Can we see?" A third girl asked.

Quinn laughed in a display of embarrassment. This was the third group of visitors he'd seen and the questions had been very similar. He was growing comfortable with the job and enjoying the people - especially the young girls and their interest in clothing. "Oh, my good heavens, no, I could never show another person my lingerie. I am shocked that you'd even ask."

"This is stupid," a boy groaned. "Who cares about stupid girls' underwear."

The rest of the group just looked disgusted at the twelve year old boy.

"Well, you know," Quinn said in a very confidential way to the boy, as he took the boy's hand and turned him to face her, "girls only wore corsets to look nice for boys, and guess what."

"What?" The boy asked.

"Boys wore corsets, too. In my day, boys would lace up their corsets, too, so that they'd look slender and handsome for the girls. So, by the time you were fourteen or fifteen, whenever you put on your fancy suit, you'd be wearing a corset made for young men. Now, that would have made even a chubby man look handsome. Of course, you are a very handsome young man. So, a corset would be wasted on you, but a plain girl like me needs all the help she can get."

The boy smiled. "I think you're very pretty."

"Oh... thank you. You're very sweet. Can I ask you a favor?"

He smiled and nodded.

Quinn pointed to his right cheek. "Could you give me a little kiss on my cheek? Just a little one."

The boy's smile widened and he blushed as he leaned forward and kissed Quinn's cheek, then hustled as quickly as he could back to his mother.

"Thank you," Quinn smiled. "Now, it's very, very important that if any of you ever speak to my betrothed, please, please, PLEASE don't tell him that I asked for a kiss from another handsome man. Do any of you know my betrothed name?"

In unison, the young girls all said, "Langdon Beech-Thorndyke."

"That's right, and Lanny and I are very much in love. So, please don't tell him about this."

Everyone was smiling and enjoying the show.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the group leader, who was also dressed as a maid, called, "I'm afraid that Miss Louisa has another group to see, so we must be going. Let's all say 'goodbye' to Miss Louisa and follow me to the library."

There was a sound that could only be described as the sound of disappointment as the group realized that they had to move on.

"Thank you, everyone for coming," Quinn smiled. "Please come and visit me again."

The session ended with Quinn receiving at least a dozen hugs from children and parents alike. The last hug came from the same little boy. As he trotted out the door, his mother smiled at Quinn and said, "Thank you. You made his day."

"He made mine," Quinn smiled.
 

~^~
 

"And then, one day, Dennis here just decided that he didn't like that name and he demanded that we all call him Ricky. Not Rick, or Richard, but Ricky. If you called him Dennis, he would just ignore you, so we all just complied and... the rest is history."

Ann laughed at the story as Ricky smiled in embarrassment. "I have a very forceful personality, at times." He joked.

"I guess," Ann laughed.

"Well," Grandpa Bill said, pushing his chair back, "I think it's time that Ricky and I head back to the mainland. He's got to shower and get ready to come right back and take your sister out to a movie. Isn't that right, Rick."

"Yeah," Ricky smiled and nodded. Ann noticed that Ricky's effervescent personality was a bit less bubbly when in the presence of his grandfather. Perhaps it was out of respect for the older man, but he was definitely quieter.

"Hey, I can't thank you guys enough," Ann smiled. "I didn't know how or when I'd get to the yard work. Look, I know you did it for Quinn, but it really helped me out."

"Anytime, Annie," Grandpa Bill smiled. "Ricky's told me about what you and Quinn have been through and we're always here to help. What do I always say, Ricky?"

Ricky smirked as he recited his grandfather's favorite inspirational pep talk. "We're never going to have wealth, but we can find riches in helping others."

Ann shook her head. "I didn't think people like you existed."

Grandpa Bill winked, again. "When you have ten people living with you, you need to create a very strict code of behavior. My grandkids and their mother know that they need to tow the line. All that aside, though... it was a pleasure meeting you and if you need any help with your yard, or any minor work in your house... anything at all, just tell us. Rick and I will help you out."

"Thanks, Bill... Ricky. I wish I could offer something in return."

"Don't be silly," the older man laughed. "Now that we've met, you're family. Family takes care of family. Here," he pulled a business card from his wallet and handed it to Ann. "This is my contact information. Let me know if you need us."

Ann smiled at the quaint, antiquated practice of business cards. It was very sweet.

"That goes for me, too," Ricky added, as he and his grandfather headed towards the front door.

Suddenly, Ann felt very guilty about taking advantage of the kindness of these people. These were genuinely kind and generous people and Quinn was... well, maybe not lying to Ricky, but certainly not being truthful. How could he just string this kid along forever? He and his grandfather were... nice. Nicer than anyone she knew. This all needed to be resolved and if Quinn wasn't going to do it...

"Ricky. Umm. Can I talk to you privately for just a moment?" She asked, just as they reached the door.

"Sure." He turned to his grandfather, "I'll be right there, grandpa." He looked at Ann, again. "What's up?"

What should she say? The girl you love is a boy? No. But she had to say something.

"Umm... Ricky... Hey... Do you know my name?"

Ricky chuckled. "Of course I do. It's Ann."

"Yeah," Ann nodded, "but... what's my full name?"

The young man thought for a moment. "I guess I just assumed it's the same as Quinn's"

"And what's Quinn"s last name?"

"Collins, right. I mean, that's what she told me."

"Yeah, that's it," Ann said as she took a breath and considered how to proceed. "So... her name is Quinn Collins and she lives in Portsmouth, right?"

Ricky was confused. "Yeah."

"What has she told you about her back?"

"She broke it in an accident, right?"

Ann nodded. "It was a bad accident, Ricky. A very bad accident. So bad that it shut down the Highway for hours. So bad that it made the TV news and all the papers."

Ricky nodded. "Ok."

"Look," Ann bit her lower lip and just spit out what was on her mind. "You know how to use Google, right?"

He nodded. "What are you trying to tell me? You and that Barbara lady keep talking in riddles all the time."

She reached up and petted his cheek. "That's all I can really say, Ricky, but... think about what I said. If you do a little research, it might answer some questions."

Ricky blinked, not really understanding what Ann was getting at. "Ok... I guess. Thanks."

"You'd better get going."

Ricky tried to process what had just transpired. "Ok. I'll... I'll talk to you later."
 
 
To Be Continued...