Emily's birthday came along a few weeks after the engagement party. On the night before while everyone else was asleep, Mitchell stayed up late to decorate the house with a banner and balloons. Knowing that Emily was the first one up in the morning, he propped up a couple of very conspicuous presents and a card for her to discover.
Before dashing off to work and school, Mitchell and the kids wished and sang her a happy birthday, and Emily showed off her patented glowing happy smile and there were even a few happy tears. She opened her presents eagerly in front of the kids, a beautiful white satin robe and slippers that Kelly had picked out for her, a couple of music CDs courtesy of Timothy, and the latest novel from her favorite author from Mitchell. Emily exclaimed that they were the best birthday presents ever. Then she hugged Mitchell again, a nice warm friendly hug that lingered. She had rested her head on his shoulder and clung to him so tightly that they nearly melded together.
"Thank you," she had said. "Thank you so much. You guys are really like a second family to me."
He could feel the warmth and wetness of her tears melt though the stiff linen of his shirt. But they both quickly recovered. She had a ton of things to do and the kids had to get off to school. But as they broke away, Emily looked at him unlike she had ever looked at him before. It was as though she was seeing him for the first time and he felt embarrassed and looked away and excused himself to finish getting ready for work.
When Mitchell arrived home from work a little earlier than usual, Emily was upstairs getting ready to go out with Brian. He could hear her humming happily in that silly off-tune voice of hers behind the closed door of her bedroom. He went to change, but she apparently heard him in the hallway and her door swung open.
"Mitch? I need an opinion," Emily stated, her voice rife with indecision. "A guy's opinion."
"Oh?" he sighed uneasily, looking around and realizing that obviously he was the only guy within a hundred yards of the sound of her voice. He cleared his throat. "You want my opinion?"
"You're a guy. So, yeah, you'll do."
"So, um ... what's up?"
"Which looks best? This? Or this?"
Emily stood at the door of her bedroom, dressed only in a black satin thong, thigh high stockings, and heels. She held up a little black dress against her body, actually little more than a slip, made from a light silky fabric with a pair of tiny spaghetti straps and a back that swooped dangerously low. In her other hand, still on the hangers, she held a bow necked white knit top and a plaid pleated skirt that would ride low on her hips and end far above her knees. In the available moment, Mitchell imagined her in both outfits. His mouth watered. His pulse raced. His palms sweated. She would look fantastic in either; classically elegant in the former, fabulously hip in the latter, and incredibly sexy in either. But this moment demanded a judgment call and he dispensed with all logic and went with his gut feeling.
"You'd look great in both outfits, Emmie, but to be honest, for this occasion-and he is taking you to the Fox and Hounds tonight, right-I'd go with the little black dress."
"He is taking me to the Fox and Hounds, but are you sure?" With that she raised up the skirted outfit and lowered the little black dress somehow exposing as little of her gorgeous body as possible although there was plenty available from which his thirsty eyes could drink.
"Well, what are we trying to say here?" Mitchell asked. "A hot and sexy, take me, right here and right now, or a coolly elegant, spend your money, take your chances but it will be more than worth it in the end?"
"Hmm," Emily hummed. She turned and looked at her reflection in the tall mirror beside her dresser, holding up one outfit then the other. As she did so, he was afforded delicious side views of the lush lean curves of her breasts and hips. Then she held up the little silk black dress. "I think I'll go with elegance."
"Good choice, mademoiselle."
She laughed girlishly and sexily and Mitchell had to fight off those familiar lush warm feelings of enchantment. He was over her, wasn't he? There was certainly nothing wrong in finding her attractive, after all she was a pretty and sexy girl and most any guy would have been attracted to her. But she belonged to someone else and he wouldn't let her innocent beauty play games with his feelings.
Later when Brian had arrived and she waltzed down the stairs, he had to admit that his breath was taken away. She looked like a fantasy come true, her face aglow in an eternal grin, the dress clinging to her every curve, her young firm breasts surging up from the black silk and jiggling ever so enticingly, and her legs in the sheer black stockings, long and shapely, kicking down each step. He looked at Brian and noted the casual blasé smile and wondered if this guy truly realized what he had in Emily. He hoped so for her sake.
Then they were off. He remembered standing at the doorway waving, watching as they slipped into Brian's car and motored away in his infernal foreign machine. He thought of being that young again, of having his entire adult life yet to unfold before him. He remembered how he had been that age himself with everything to live for and without a single care in the world. Oh, those were the days! His life had changed with kids and a career and a house to care for now, but he wasn't sad because he had had his good times and now it was time for hers.
It was shortly before midnight when Emily came home, much earlier than Mitchell expected. He had anticipated that she might not be back till morning. Mitch was sitting in the family room reading, but had heard Brian's German iron pull up, music blaring loudly. The engine hadn't stopped running when the car door opened and shut forcefully and the car sped off.
The front door opened with a rush and Emily ran up the stairs to her room. Puzzled, Mitchell waited a few minutes expecting her to come down and say hello, but she didn't. He knocked back the last of his bourbon and went upstairs. He ended up standing outside her bedroom upstairs hearing the faint sounds of Emily sobbing.
"Emmie? Are you okay?"
There was no immediate answer so he rapped lightly on her door.
"Emily? You all right?"
"No! Go away," she cried out, her voice thick and heavy with tears.
"What's wrong, Emily? Emily? Are you okay?"
She didn't answer but her sobs grew softer.
"All right, but if you want to talk, I'll be downstairs for a while."
Mitchell went back downstairs, his mind racing over the possibilities. Of all that his fanciful mind could conjure, there was one that emerged, big and ugly. It must be something with Brian and their engagement.
It was a while later when Mitchell heard footsteps on the stairway. He looked up to see Emily descending slowly, her new white satin robe snugged tightly around her waist. She went straight to the kitchen and opened the liquor cabinet.
"What's that stuff that you drink all the time that tastes like medicine?" she sniffled.
"Bourbon."
"Yeah, that's it," she said, looking for and pulling out the half gallon of Jim Beam and filling a glass.
Emily took a sip then a long healthy drink. By this time, Mitchell was up and moving toward her. She glanced over at him, her eyes were reddened and damp with tears. What little makeup she had been wearing was smeared. Mitchell moved up beside her and put his arm around her waist. She leaned toward him and laid her head heavily against her shoulder.
"What happened, honey?"
Emily turned toward him and fell into his paternal embrace. She began to sob again and Mitchell simply held her and let her cry, her warm tears streaming down and wetting his shirt.
