Chapter 155: Fixing Her Hair
Women often would doubt if the men were in love with them, but Cathryn was never in doubt, but rather, she wanted to explore. She wanted to see why he would do those things for her and how far he was going.
She was deeply touched and felt a strange sympathy.
"Cathryn!" Helen greeted Cathryn with excitement, "Good morning."
Cathryn looked up and caught Helen's blue eyes. Her thought was broken, her eyes went clear, and her lips rose to a smile.
"Good morning, Helen."
It felt too estranged calling her Mrs. Clarkson, especially at home, so after getting Helen's consent, Cathryn began to call her directly by the first name.
Helen was a literature expert, she had that sensitive instinct for human emotions. Although Cathryn looked as happy as usual, she noticed her difference.
She didn't say anything but walked over and checked her ponytail and suggested, "That's a beautiful dress you chose. Would you like to try my hairstyle with it?"
After that, she made that playful blink again. It was Helen's sign. Although she was well in her fifties, she could still blink like a teenage girl.
Cathryn laughed and said, "Sure."
In response to her, Helen said to the maid, "Anne, can you bring my comb here."
Cathryn obediently sat on the sofa, and
Helen stood behind the back of the sofa.
There were people coming and going in the hall, but the two ladies never moved but chatted if the hair felt okay or if Cathryn was hurt.
Cathryn never had the privilege of having her mother tie her hair because Victoria was not the most intimate person. Now, Helen used that hard rosewood comb to gently brush her scalp, putting her hair into her hand. Above Cathryn's head was her soft, cheerful chatter before she finally pulled Cathryn's hand and announced happily, "There you go!"
Cathryn Riley stood up and checked her carefully done hair in the mirror, feeling closer to her soon-to-be mother-in-law. She leaned a little closer, and Helen held her shoulders and smiled at her in the mirror.
"Let's go, we can't keep Master Densch waiting."
Seeing Cathryn's confused face, Helen continued to explain.
"Klaus Densch is a couture designer and our semester's designer. I have sent your measurements to him long ago, but I'm afraid that time is not on our side because you are only going to see him today. So don't be upset if it doesn't fit! But still, we can go to have you measured for the engagement and the wedding gowns, so it'll be much more convenient later."
When she was talking about engagement and wedding, Cathryn involuntarily blushed. She had already delivered the child, and now Helen was talking like she was a young maid. And although Keith's name wasn't mentioned, she couldn't control her heart rate when thinking about the consummation matter.
She almost muttered a "sorry," but Helen put her fingers to touch her red cheeks and teased with a dreaming voice.
"Her cheeks were red, her eyes were brown, mark well what I do say,
Her cheeks were red, her eyes were brown, Her hair like glow-worms hanging down,"
Cathryn glanced at her, amazed, and smiled.
The driver, David, drove them to a different suburb area where Master Densche's tailor store was. It was a sunny day, and Cathryn stared outside the window as the trees were running back and classical houses or villages flashed at times. The pastoral beauty of the countryside felt exactly what she had imagined in fairy tales.
The car turned on a flat stone road and soon stopped in front of a small brownstone building.
Helen grabbed Cathryn's hand and got out of the car. Cathryn looked up and felt instinctive respect towards the medieval facade of the tailor shop.
The craftsmanship found in fairyland, Cathryn thought.
A small whiteboard was standing in front of the shop. Delicate penmanship was newly put there in black, noting a few words in German. Helen explained lightly, "It says," Closed today.
But Helen didn't cease her steps but pushed the door with one hand and led Cathryn in with the other. She blinked at her again, laughing, "Master Densche has closed the shop for us!"
So it seemed they had a very close relationship. Cathryn was rest assured and walked in with Helen.
It was a crowded shop. A few enormous dresses almost filled the whole room. It seemed that this Master was not very demanding in his own comfort but saw his handiwork in the highest place.
After she was used to the dim light here, Cathryn noticed a small sofa set and a teal table were set in the corner, and the teacups were casually stacked altogether, and apparently, there was dreg inside, while the carefully wrapped sets of dress were glowing in the center of the room.
The room wasn't so well lit, and Helen was walking deeper inside by flexibly pushing away all the layers of dresses.
In the deepest part of the room, there was another window, and the sun in the noon was passionately prying on the part of the workbench beside the small window, making the scissors and rulers on the workbench transparent.
On the dimmer side of the desk, a thin, middle-aged man with a full beard was drawing something, his head almost touching the sketchbook. He seemed fully indulged in his work, so Helen picked up a steel ruler on the desk and knocked on the table twice. The crisp sounds finally made Densche look up.
The slightly annoying green eyes turned to joy when they met Helen. He quickly stood up and greeted Helen before he stretched his hand and saw Cathryn behind. He looked awkward suddenly and turned inquiringly at Helen, who took his frozen hand and blinked.
"This is Cathryn Riley, my daughter-in-law." Helen said and then introduced Cathryn, "Densche is a member of my poetry society."
He had seen Ada Clinton many times there and was surprised to be introduced to this new girl.
Cathryn politely greeted Densche and, as he observed, showed a completely different manner.
"The dress is ready, Miss Riley," Densche said to Cathryn. After having measured her size with his eyes, he felt relieved that it was the right size for the dress he had made.