Rosy Dreams
The room was a study in vibrancy and elegance.
Satins of mauve, pale pink and magenta had been artfully suspended at the ceiling, in corners and above counters. Swathes of the fabric draped displays. There were glimmers of the hue in each direction, pleasing the eyes of customers and staff alike. It was like stepping through a flowering rose garden, teasing the senses and shining in many a woman's dreams.
The dream of being named Miss. Paradise Pink; the wish to be selected out of the numerous women who walked through the doors of The Paradise. To be awarded with a photograph that would be displayed for a time on the store's wall, seen by every customer who entered.
It had been her suggestions that had created the promotion and shaped it into the grand event it was. As the first ever Miss. Paradise Pink stepped forward, her face flushed with the crowd's praise and Mr. Moray's personal attention, Denise found herself joining the dreamers.
In the haze of daydreaming, she imagined her bodice pinned with a pink blossom, the formal black uniform of a shopgirl deserted for a day gown's delicate lines and colour. She could hear the muffled clapping as she was presented to the assembled customers. She saw Pauline's grin and Sam's knowing smirk. She could even envision Miss. Audrey's small smile, the older woman's worry of being replaced, gone.
But when her imagination conjured up the vision of Moray, all other details faded. She didn't desire the title for her photograph in the papers, her picture in a frame or the beautiful rose tea gown given by the Ladieswear department...although it was stunning.
She wanted it for the sparkle in Moray's eyes, his hand at her elbow as he presented her. She desired it for the full bloomed smile stretching his cheeks, the admiration in his gaze.
Dreams fell away. She was jolted quickly back to reality by a nudge from Clara. The experienced shopgirl who had taken an immediate dislike of her for some reason that remained a mystery, offered a small scowl. It was quite obvious she had an inkling of the direction Denise's imaginings had taken.
It was with great effort that she returned to the presentation only to realize it was over. As everyone departed, staff to their counters or departments and guests to their shopping, Denise fingered the petals of her flower.
She knows the reality of her position. She is his employee. If Mr. Moray even considered awarding the Miss Paradise Pink honour to one of his shopgirls, the gossip would be relentless. There would be talk from every corner.
A gauzy petal breaks off.
If only her rosy dreams would fade as quickly.