FOR WHOM THE BELLE TOLD ~ By Absolutely*Kate of Harbinger*33 ... #FridayFlash

 FOR WHOM THE BELLE TOLD

~ By Absolutely*Kate

Is a great moment of all time notably spectacular at the exact instance it occurs, or does memorable enrichment glean its merits through gilded legend? That is the question. Well, one of the questions that daunted New Year's Eve's festivities for Stanley and Wanda before the clocktower of 1949 struck life forward.

He was remembering how time flew in the U. S. Army Air Corps in 1945, seemingly a million miles away, across an ocean of thought and a litany of letters from the cat's meow of a dandy dame now clutching her warm grip over the pinstriped arm of his best suit jacket . . . and his heart. Her gloved hand tightened against the possibility of a slipslide as they crossed the icy parking lot. He liked how this night felt. Being reached for, being clung to, wearing his best suit jacket and looking forward . . . to possibilities. They'd get inside before midnight. They'd make it. Then he was going to ask her.

She was recalling for whom the belle told what she was asked to believe in 1946. Colette Broussard had held nothing back when she blew into the windy city. She was certain that either Stanley or his Chicago squadron buddy Chuck was the not so proud papa of her scrawny, whimpering Giselle and she wanted more than nylons and au chocolat for her troubles, as she called them. Wanda listened without judgement across the Kresge dime-store perfume counter the taller, slimmer, more elegant femme fatale leaned her decolletage over. Wanda listened without interrupting the tale of a dark rainy night and a farmhouse and pilots down in a field and a welcome bowl of  soup alongside friendly fire. Very friendly, it seemed from the veracity wriggling against the older woman's shoulder, mewling for her bottle. The story had plot, climax and credence but not a happy ending. 

When Tom, Mr Kresge's eldest son, sent wary glances Wanda's way, she squared her shoulder pads, bared her bravado, and shooed the mad mademoiselle from her scents'ory department, hissing swiftly though, "Why? Why tell - Me?". She'd not seen nor heard tale of the woman, the babe, the story, again. She'd not noticed the column-inch near the bottom of page 14 of the Trib two days later, mentioning the crash of the Nash and the Studebaker with casualties at Lake and Clark Streets.

~ ~ ~

The 40's were something, alright, Stanley mused. History marked in time and temps. The Depression ended and so did the Big One he went through, WWII. The Cold War was changing the climate and some skinny blue-eyed kid from Hoboken was rising his stardom on every hep radio's horizon. Everyone who was anyone in their set of chums had seen and was keen on Casablanca at the picture-show, and romance was warming the climate too. Yes, this world-changing decade was ending and folks were beginning to watch life happen on a television set. He'd read in the Sunday Tribune that over 125,000 American homes now had one firmly nestled into a corner of their living rooms. Why, if Wanda looked up into his eyes and smiled a 'Yes Stanley', they could look into building one of those little homes in the new suburbs like Edison Park and have their own GE to come home to. Life could be good, life could be a dream in the 1950's with the right little lady to love and cherish and create the American dream with. 

The 40's were sure somethin' swell, Wanda mused, knowing what it was like to wait for an overseas man's kisses to come true and his promises to take hold. She knew Stanley was a swell catch and liked how safe she felt holding onto his dapper suit coat arm, and his soft enchanting gaze. She knew she was walking right into the dream, the big one ~ a night as fine and festive as Chicago's swankiest supperclub, The Chez Paree, could entice. She was one lucky gal on one dapper New Year's Eve headed into a brand new decade . . . of possibilities. The Chez was where headliners of the day came to play ~ Durante and Lady Day, the Andrews Sisters and Nat King Cole  -- Gosh it was cold, cold and slippery on this thin ice. The Chez Paree was up ahead. It would feel good to get inside, feel warm, excited, safe, delighted. Safe enough to ask him, before midnight. She should.

Something that happened before midnight struck was going to affect New Year's luck at the Chez Paree and make a memory to last a lifetime.

(c) 2010 ~ Author Absolutely*Kate, 

another AT THE BIJOU premiere

Time futures us.  ~ Pic ala andoreamon

~ Absolutely*Kate and our fine staff of renown

AT THE BIJOU

  wish you hearty prosperities

from dream-themes into the brave new year!

May your JOY be full.

 

Holiday Noir by Absolutely*Kate follows,

a challenge dared in a crimewriting spree

joining the daunting scene over at DO SOME DAMAGE ~

JiNGLE NELLE, JiNGLE NELLE.

 E N J O Y ... S T A Y ~ S W A N K Y !