Silver Sequins by Joy Ross Davis

Silver Sequins by Joy Ross Davis

Jeanie Martin stood outside the huge display window at Harrod’s Boutique, her eyes fixed on a sequined sweater the color of the sea. Only an hour before, her husband had said,“C’mon. Let’s go to the mall.”

“But I’m not dressed for it,” she’d replied, glancing down at her baggy brown sweat pants and yellow oversized t-shirt. “Can you give me a few minutes to change?”

And he, dressed in a fine Italian three-piece suit, white dress shirt, and striped tie, grabbed the keys off the hook.

“Let’s go,” he said. “Now. We’ll stop at Ruby Tuesdays on the way back. The fridge is about empty and there doesn’t seem to be anything cooking on the stove.”

Jeanie grabbed her purse, smoothed on some lip gloss, ran her fingers through her just-washed hair, and followed him.

He said he had business to attend to at The Pistol Parlor, private client-attorney business, the kind she was never allowed to witness. He handed her two slim stacks of bills, both secured by wide rubber bands.

“Ten one-hundred dollar bills,” he said. “Go next door to the boutique and buy whatever you want, but use good taste. You need an outfit for the shindig at The Relay House next week. Something dressy. I’ll check on you when I finish.”

“And you want me to pick it out myself?” Jeanie asked. “You hardly ever let me pick out my own clothes.”

He chuckled.

“Well, Sugar, that’s because you don’t have very good taste. But give it a try. Maybe my sense of style has rubbed off on you in the four years we’ve been married. Pick out what you want at Harrod’s, but I have the final say.”

And with that, he walked away.And now, she was here gazing at the beautiful sea-blue sweater. The silver sequins trailed down the long sleeves and around the neckline, and as the sweater turned on its pedestal, it shimmered.

Jeanie peeked around the corner to see if the store was crowded, and seeing no one else inside but the clerk, she walked in, her steps soft so as not to attract attention. But a bell rang as she entered and the clerk came to her immediately.

He eyed her up and down, a look of utter disgust on his face.

Jeanie smoothed her t-shirt, adjusted her purse, and turned toward the sweater to hide the flush that came to her cheeks. “

May I help you?” the clerk asked and startled her. He was a tall man dressed in a suit and tie, his hands clasped at his waist.

“I…I like this sweater in the window,” Jeanie said and pointed.

“This one.”

The clerk raised an eyebrow. “Oh, but that sweater is very expensive.”He dismissed her with a wave of his hand. “I’m afraid that we have very little that would suit you. Perhaps another place would be a better choice.”

“But I’d like to see the sweater,” Jeanie said.

“I’m sorry, but it wouldn’t fit you,” the clerk said. Jeanie lowered her head and walked away. She heard the bell ding as she stepped out of the store, just in time to see her husband coming toward her, a big smile on his handsome face.

“Well, Sugar, what did you buy?”

Jeanie pointed to the sweater in the window. “I…I wanted that sweater, but the clerk said I should try another store.” She saw the look, then, that look he got when his temper was about to explode.

“No, Anthony, please, please don’t do anything.”

Her heart pounded as she watched the clerk bag up something and hand it to her husband. And she watched as that same clerk’s face blanched pure white when Anthony put his business card on the counter, then leaned in and whispered something to him. The clerk put his hands to his mouth.

“How does it feel to have made your very last sale?” Anthony said and laughed. “See you in court.”

Two years later, the sweater lies still folded in the bureau drawer in the new apartment, never once worn. Jeanie hardly thinks of it anymore, never sees Anthony, and takes pride in the new job as the Executive Secretary of his biggest rival.

Occasionally, when the drawer is opened, light plays on the sweater’s silver sequins and casts a warm glow all around. She smiles and moves on.

Joy Ross Davis is of Irish descent and a student of the lore and magic found in the back hills of Tennessee where many of her Irish ancestors settled upon coming to America. After a twenty-five-year career as a college English professor, she retired from teaching and followed her dream of going to Ireland. As it happened, she was offered a “summer of work” as a writer and photographer at an Irish travel agency where she wrote and published numerous articles and photos designed for first-time American visitors to Ireland. She has been a contributing feature writer for a local newspaper and has published articles in Southern literary magazines. She lives in Alabama with her sons and beloved rescue dogs. She loves to speak at conferences, book club meetings, and events to share the stories behind her books.