The Butler’s Accomplice wore silk Part 5
I was aghast, hoping Claire would not try to reach in to get it. But she was pulled away by her mother before any more mischief could be had.
She then motioned to be let down and immediately began looking around mums feet, finding nothing.
Then the smart little
tyke walked around and with both hands hugging and tugging at the back of mums soft blue skirt. Mum swayed as little Claire was holding her, and we saw something shimmery fall from the lower front of her skirt onto the grass.
It was playing out like something In a movie. And in that movie the jewel thief posing as a butler
would snatch up the diamonds his diminutive partner had managed to relieve the lady wearing them of, and take them to where he was stashing the other pieces of jewelry the pair had been snatching off from the other pretty guests, and I was including my diamond choker in with their loot!
“But don’t steal me mum’s necklace” I murmured to myself.
This was a little too close to home for me.
For I had selfishly longed for the day I was old enough to fit into the taffeta dress mum had on and wear her smashing rhinestones out to a posh fancy affaire myself!
And those evenings when mum
would dress up all pretty and wear them out, I selfishly worried that her shimmery jewels(and mum of course) would not suffer any mischief, accidental or intentionally devious.
That she would not be returning after her evening out with some, or an even darker worry, all of them, gone!
And Papa always teasing about having to wear sunglasses when she wore them did not help alleviate those fears.
As I was instantaneously revisiting these trembling worries, I watched my butler playing brother and Claire both move in to snatch the necklace up from the ground.
But before the two miscreants could make a play at retrieving the shimmering necklace that lay in the grass, Claire’s aunt steps on it and picked it up.
My brother quickly backed off and circled around back to my side.
Claire just looks up innocently up at her aunt.
The three clueless ladies all looked with genuine curiosity at the necklace before, mums eyes opened quite wide in recognition.
Mum gasped as she felt up along her naked throat.
That’s mine she stated, the little dickens and she tickled Claire who laughed as she looked over at my brother.
“My aren’t you a precious little thief!”
Our mum teased holding up her necklace for Claire to touch, though I as she said this I saw her eyes fart around like she was looking for someone.
The other ladies chirped in giggling pleasure also. Though I noticed that little Claire’s Aunt appeared to check for, then hold on to her own diamond pendant for safety.
After the ladies leave with Claire, my mum walks over to us, still laughing. she had me replace it as she told me the story of precious Claire undoing her necklace as she played with it.
My brother and I listened in all innocence.
The remaining few hours of the party found my brother coming up to me, still playing at being a thieving butler.
He would pretend I was his partner Claire, and point out ladies wearing tantalizingly shiny necklaces for me to go up and ask to be picked up so I could give a “special hug “
I just shoved him off and sent him about his business.
But as I watched mum socializing, wearing her sparkling necklace. I did secretly wonder what could have he talked me into if I had been a cuddling tyke small enough to be held.
And in my mind flashed a picture of mum as she knelt to give us both a hug for helping as she always did
Hmmm, and if caught all I had to do was look cute and giggle...
But anyway, that was pretty much the whole story.
Oh, and the wood bead wearing grandmother type that may be considered the catalyst bringing Claire and me together?
A few days later my parents learned she had been a self-invited party crasher.
A pity mum said if the poor dear needed to eat that badly all she had to do was ask. We would have welcomed her with open arms.
I just shuddered, looking up at mum and remembering how badly the huggy old creature had seemed hungry only for the desire to know just how pretty my mother was dressed that day.
And she was, very pretty, so dazzling pretty wearing her rhinestones in fact that the party crasher may have needed sunglasses as she enveloped mum in a hug with those clammy sharp fingers of hers.
Though, funny thing was, I never got a straight answer from mum when I asked if wood bead wearing grandmother type lady had managed to find her.
Only a hand placed to her throat in a thoughtful gesture, with an odd look crossing over her eyes, and total dead silence on the subject.
Giving one a distinct feeling that mum was keeping an unsettling secret from me.
But is all a long story that may be told one another day.