The Cedar Chests, Chapter 8

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Several months later, Dad wanted to go squirrel hunting. Governor Sullivan came down from Frankfort to join us and stayed with mom and dad. Dad and I also did a lot of fishing, but mainly in the summer. I didn’t care that much for hunting, but I knew how much he enjoyed doing it with me, so I went with him. And I wasn’t sure how many more good hunting years Dad had in him. He could fish, but tramping around wooded Kentucky hillsides quickly takes a toll on him and wears him out. We must often stop so he can rest. Mary Jo came up to the main house with me and always kissed my dad on the cheek, and she gave the Governor one too. She had breakfast with us and stayed to see us off as well as spend the rest of the day with mom. Governor Sullivan and dad grew up together, and he also knew mom from an early age. We hunted for over four-hours until it started raining on us. I took a long hot shower after tramping through the woods all day. Mary Jo and I when back up for dinner.

Dad was slowing, turning over more and more control of the day to day responsibilities of his businesses to me. The construction and architecture took most of his time, and he had good people running and managing the tobacco side of his business. I knew dad would never retire but would always keep his hand in it for as long as he could breathe, especially the architectural side of his business. On several occasions, I’d ask him questions even if I knew the answer. Surprisingly, many of his solutions surprised me and were better than my solutions.

I was walking in after repairing something in the barn and Mary Jo was hanging up the phone. “Guess who that was?”

“Honey, I have no idea. Who?”

“It was Martha Sullivan. Remember, she wanted to catch up with us before the end of the gala weekend?”

“Sorry, no. I don’t recall. That was months ago. I think the corset deprived my brain of too much oxygen and killed my brain cells.” She thought that was funny.

“She asked me how many vintage gowns and dresses you had. I said 12–15 or so.”

Gowns representative of the ones found in the cedar chests.

I paused a moment, then replied slowly. “And.”

“She asked me to ask you if you would please model them at Kentucky’s Commonwealth’s 135^th-anniversary ball for the Kentucky Historical Society this September in Lexington?”

“No. I am not a model, and I refuse to embarrass myself in front of the Commonwealth.” I replied sternly, then looked directly at Mary Jo into her captivating cobalt eyes with a blank stare. I paused again and asked, “You told her yes, didn’t you!”

She nodded in the affirmative.

“Mary Jo, I don’t have time. You know dad is giving me more and more responsibilities I’m swamped from five in the morning to six at night five to six days a week.”

“Can we please talk about it over dinner? I’ll make Kentucky Hot Browns for dinner.” (A Kentucky Hot Brown is an open-faced sandwich of turkey and bacon, covered in Mornay sauce, and baked or broiled until the bread is crisp and the sauce begins to brown.) Mary Jo prefers to broil them. It originated at the Brown Hotel in downtown Louisville. But I think the Talbott Inn in Bardstown makes the best one, next to MJ’s of course.

I headed upstairs to clean up for dinner. During dinner, I said. “Mary Jo, I don’t mind you dressing me up. I don’t. But I think this is going too far. I can’t fool or deceive everyone every time I am out in public with you.”

‘Tom, I appreciate it when you letting me dress you, and it excites me to do it. It is never my intention to embarrass you. I’m stuck. I told Martha you would do it. I know I should have asked you first. But this is for the Historical Society, and the Governor’s wife asked for you! I mean for Claire. And Martha asked me if you (me, Tom) would join us too. I told her the only fashion shows you (Tom) like are the Victoria Secrets fashion shows on TV.”

She was right about the last part. What man  doesn’t appreciate seeing gorgeous thin ladies with flat bellies wearing very little clothes strutting around in underwear, wearing high spiked heels, and bouncing their breasts?

“Will you please consider it? The Historical Society will pay for all the alterations too. They’ve hired Stella to do the original alterations on all vintage clothes. You remember her, don’t you?”

“I’ll think about it. No guarantees. But don’t get your hopes up too high, okay. I hate deceiving people.”

She served my Hot Brown and kissed me. “Thank you, sweetie. I told Martha I’d confirm with her after I spoke to Claire, and get back to her on Monday.” Today is Thursday evening, and I had three days to decide. The next several days were hard on me. I didn’t want to do it, but I also knew how much it meant to Mary Jo. I was stuck between the proverbial rock and a hard place. It was now Saturday evening, and I had to tell her tomorrow.

“Mary Jo. Please sit. I don’t mind you dressing me as your girlfriend Claire, and never wish to disappoint you. My biggest issue is my and our reputation in the community and state. I am now on the board of the local bank and fairly known over two states. And I don’t want to embarrass you, your parents or mine. I want to help you with this, but I still have major reservations about it. I don’t feel right doing it and being deceptive. Being untruthful or deceptive are not core values of mine.”

“Tom, I know I told Martha that Claire would do this. I dressed you for me, not to show you off. I can give Martha some excuse Claire can’t do it. We can loan some of the dresses to the Historical Society. Now with that said, I still have no doubts you could do it with no effort at all. After all, you did convince a ballroom full of men and women over two days! And the men who asked you to dance with them only saw a beautiful young lady.” She paused. “I haven’t told you; I’ve received numerous calls and emails from people and some papers since then asking who you were after our picture with the Governor showed up in the Herald. Martha gave them my number and email.”

“What? Who? What for?” I replied.

‘Yes. I am stuck too. Everyone wants to know the who, what, when, whereabouts this beautiful, elusive, stunning young Southern lady named Claire Jennings. I think it is kinda cute.”

“Really! Who?”

“Mainly newspapers, a bunch of photographers and a couple of society page editors.”

“You’re kidding. Right.”

Tom, “I’ve never lied to you. So, will you do this? I promise I’ll never take you out to any major event again. Please.”

“When is it? Where is it? And how long is it? You do understand we are in the middle of the major construction season, and I have a lot of projects spread out over Kentucky and Southern Indiana now that dad has turned so much over to me to solve problems and resolve issues. Our livelihood must come first.”

“It is in just over seven weeks from now. It will be at the Hyatt Regency Lexington convention center for two days. It is where the gala was. Remember? Friday is only an exhibition. That is all I know for certain. Historians wish to study and authenticate the dresses and try to determine what period time they originated, so we need to take them to Stella first, and she’ll take them to Lexington after she hems them.”

“What exactly do I have to do?”

“To my understanding, you would model each dress. I assume the emcee will most likely talk about each gown and some historical attributes about it.” Explained MJ.

“Won’t we have to give the information about the original owner, Henry Alexander and his wife and daughter who owned the clothes. How else can they research?”

“I’ll find out. Most likely, they’ll date the clothing as best they can utilizing historical records, photos and fabrics, and items of clothing they have now on display. That sweet seamstress, Stella, who hemmed your gown, will most likely a great resource to them. I don’t know for sure.”

“This is a big deal for you, Martha and the Historical Society, isn’t it?” I asked.

“Huge deal.”

“Okay, I’ll do it. But this is my last public appearance. But if something important comes up for work, I’ll have to cancel. I’ll have dinner with you or shopping, but no big or public events. Understand?”

“Thank you, thank you. Yes, I understand. I never wish to hurt or embarrass you, Tom, or our families.”

“And, one more thing. No bio about Claire Jennings in the program. It would be false and deceiving people.”

“That may be hard.” MJ thought for a while. “But I’ll tell Martha that Claire is a very private person and wishes to remain so. Thank you, Claire. I’ll call Martha tomorrow.” She came over and threw her arm around me and gave me a big hug and kisses on my cheek. I was still uneasy. For some reason, in the back of my mind, this would be a bigger event than what I was planning for. I am not a model. I only enjoy watching them.

A couple of days later, Mary Jo and I sat down. “Mary Jo, I know nothing about being a model. How many 5”5” 120-pound models even exist? I don’t have your hypnotic hip swing or real breast that bounce as your beautiful ones do.”

“I’ll worry about that. With the corset, your waist will be much smaller, and your hips will be much more prominent. It pushes up your pecs too. Maybe some hip and butt pads will work. Claire, this is not a Paris or New York fashion week runway walk. It’s just posing in period clothing. In the 1800s, many covered their breasts anyway. Feel better?”

“Somewhat. A very small somewhat.”

“The Society called back yesterday and asked about period shoes. I when upstairs to the cedar chests and steamer trunks and found seven pairs. You need to try them on. If they don’t fit, we’ll donate them. Some of the leather on a couple of pairs of them looked dilapidated with some mold and cracking of the leather. The antique restorers will need to do a lot of work on them if they fit.” All but two pairs kind of fit. As long as I didn’t have to hike miles in them, they should work. I liked them since they had lower clunkier heels too!

“We may have to go up a day early. The makeup team needs to look at your face and hair. Your hair is looking quite shaggy now, Claire. No lady would ever look so disheveled, you know.”

“Makeup team? This is getting more and more involved and time consuming each day, Mary Jo.”

“We should get you a facial before we leave too. And to the salon as well.”

“Facial? Salon?”

“Are you free this Saturday and the day before we leave to get a facial and haircut. I’ll make sure they don’t make it look really girly. But something you can still style when dressed as Claire. Oh, we need to have your nails done too.”

“Yes, so far, unless something at work comes up.” In the back of my mind, I was hoping something important at work that required my attention would happen.

“Tom, I’m sure you have a few trusted foremen or someone you’ve given authority to at work to make decisions if something comes up when you aren’t around for a day or two. And you’ll be a phone call away. We need to take all the dresses to Stella Vintage Clothing and Alterations so she can give the Society an estimate of costs for alterations. Okay?

“She can’t helm then without shoes, can she?” I asked. Remembering the four-inch heel measuring I did?

“Tom, those poor ladies didn’t have the luxury wear 4 to 5-inch spiked high heels in the 17 and 1800s.” Mary Jo said jokingly. And their dresses barely touched the ground. And I don’t think ladies were even allowed to show their ankles back then. Stella will hem them to the one-pair of shoes you decide to wear.

I think you know what happens next. We loaded the car with shoes and dresses on Saturday morning and took off to Stella’s. She was so impressed with the dresses and even more with my whalebone corsets. Mary Jo also packed ‘my’ bloomers and petticoats. We were there for five and three-quarter hours.

We headed to the mall, and I experience my first salon visit. I’ve had pedicures in the past since I am prone to ingrown toenails. I was scared of what the haircut would look like.

Mary Jo said, “I told your stylists to give you a unisex haircut, but still leave it long. And not too girly since you were still a tomboy at heart.”

I was exhausted and when we got home. I was surprisingly pleased with the haircut. Mom even liked it the next time I saw her.

Over dinner, Mary Jo said she needs to help me a bit more with my smile and walking. Also, each night she continued to exfoliate my face and hands. She applied anti-wrinkle serum under my eyes and my crow’s feet along with gallons of moisturizers since I am outside in the elements a lot. After a couple of days, my skin did look and feel softer and smoother. She did this every day for the next five weeks until we would leave for Lexington.

To be continued….

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Tags: crossdressing, featured, fiction

Category: Fiction