"Ah hello! Bonjour! Bonjour Mademoiselle!" A cheerful man with unruly orange hair said walking in. I couldn't help but notice that he sort of dance when he walked. His mustache was as long as my arm, I could see. "I don't think I've seen you before." He said, eyeing me. "That's because I just began working here." I said. " Are you here for an order?" I asked him. "Yes. I would like three crates full." I must have looked of stunned, since he said, "for my nightclub. The Moulin Rouge! I'm Harold Zidler." I still looked at him blankly. "Come now, a pretty girl like you must know about me! And I think you'd be a wonderful dancer there! Spin for me!" "I beg your pardon?!?" I asked horrified. "Spin!" I did half a turn. "You can do better than that! Did you ever take dance lessons?" "Yes I did." I said. "I could tell you were graceful." He said. I didn't like the way he was looking at me. He looked at my dress. "That's a very pretty fabric! Blue is such a pretty color on you." "Thank you. I designed it myself." "You did?" He asked. "Yes." "Well, I have a proposition for you, if i buy eight crates of your wonderful wine, will you come down to the Moulin Rouge for an audition?" "An audition for what?" I asked. "Oh, for dancing, for modeling.... for designing costumes..." "Designing costumes?" I asked. "Yes. I can tell you have quite a knack at it. And you are quite beautiful if i may say, and you could well be one of my girls." I was speechless. I had always wanted to be a clothes designer. I had always wanted to have my own boutique in Paris. And this would be the perfect time! I mean, can- can dancers wearing MY designs? I had wanted to design lingerie. I had many ideas. This would be the way to do it. And a dancer? Wow. Living in Paris would be as exciting if not more exciting then I ever imagined! "Well, what do you say...um, what is your name dear?" " Bridget Cummings." I said. "Ah, Scottish are you? That's lovely! Come by at Saturday night at seven! That's when all the fun starts! tata!" He then left. "Wait sir what about-" But he was gone. I then looked down at my tablet. Sure enough, it read "Harold Zidler-Moulin Rouge-eight crates"

The rest of the day went by uneventful. Henri was thrilled about Zidler's order. "He is one of our most valuable customers." He told me. I didn't tell him about Zidler's offer.