We continue with Maggie's Story this week. Using this picture as a prompt, I'm limited to only 300 words. I'll try to make each one count.
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“Tuscany?”
She nodded. “The green
reminds me of home. I didn’t grow up in London like you. I miss it in this city
of concrete and brick.”
“I’ll take you there,”
John said, pulling the implement from her hand and laying it down.
“You? On what? A
chauffeur’s salary?”
“Put on your coat. The
fur one the Missus gave you.”
“What for?”
“I’m taking you out. We’ve
seven more days before they get home. I don’t plan to spend it rattlin’ around
this ole place. Come on, girl. Let’s have an adventure.”
A soft snort escaped
her throat. “Adventure? On what? Two
dimes and a nickel?”
“Not everything’s about
money, young lady. Let’s go.”
He held the old beaver
coat Maggie had received as a hand-me-down from Anne Roberts.
John laced his fingers
with hers as they walked briskly through the park. The biting wind stung her
face, but her body was warm.
“Here it is,” he said,
turning left. They climbed the stairs. Inside, John paid for admission.
“Now, pretty lady,
where do you want to go? France to see Van Gogh and Monet? Egypt to see the
tombs? Japan, China or Mexico?”
Maggie turned around
slowly, taking in the foyer of the Metropolitan Museum of art.
“All of ‘em, I think.”
“Good lord! Then we’d
better get started.”
“What about lunch?” She pushed in her belly a bit to hide a low
rumble.
“They’ve a lovely
restaurant here, milady. Will you be my guest?”
Maggie’s cheeks heated.
“Good. We’ll start
there then,” John said, offering his arm.
“You’ll be spoiling me,
John Eldridge. Best stop now.” But she took his arm and followed along.
“That’s the idea,
Maggie. That’s the very idea.”
