Emeralds by Elizabeth Sowden

Noëlle sat in the back of the store reading the script for “McDonald’s: The Musical”. She had been cast in the role of Chenille Hornsby, an eccentric millionaire with an obsessive, chronic hunger for McDonald’s who turns the town of Rockford, IL upside down. Noëlle would be wearing heavy costume jewelry and a floor length mink coat under hot lights—she surmised she would probably sweat off twenty pounds by the time the show closed.

As she familiarized herself with the script, Noëlle began to like Chenille. Chenille was sophisticated, educated at Wellesley and at the Sorbonne, quoted Voltaire and had a black cat named Marie Antoinette who was as snooty as Chenille herself. She ate her supersized fries and Big Macs with a knife and fork she toted in her Gucci bag. Above all, she had a classy sex appeal that melted the hearts of the men of Rockford.

She had the soundtrack, too, and thanks to modern technology, she was able to listen to it on her iPod. But she could only stand to listen to a little bit at a time. The laid back, undulating Caribbean tracks just didn’t scream winter in Illinois. It made Chenille sound as if instead of mink and diamonds she should be wearing dreads and a Rastafarian bracelet. Critics would be baffled and Rastas would be offended. She dreaded having to sing the songs. If only she could convince them to change it to straight pop…

Noëlle’s boss, back from one of his purchasing trips, was showing Colombian emeralds to Noreen and Janet. He held them up to the light, admiring their clarity, Noreen and Janet oohing and ahhing. For a moment, Noëlle stopped reading the script to watch him. As he lifted one of the gems up to the florescent light, the verdant sparkle caught her eye, and suddenly her imagination was engulfed by inspiration.

She would be Chenille. Not just on stage, but in life. It wasn’t Chenille’s money or jewels that seduced people; it was her confidence and singularity that won people over. She would use it to get what she wanted. She would make them change the soundtrack to pop, while still letting them think it was their idea. She would make rich men buy jewelry for their wives, daughters and mistresses. She would make the Starbucks people get her drink right. Well, maybe not.

As her boss described plans he had for the emeralds, the buzzer sounded. Too engrossed in what their boss had to say, neither Noreen nor Janet heard it. So Noëlle set the script aside and went to answer it. It was an older woman, who could have been a mother to someone like Chenille. Noëlle opened the door.

“Welcome,” Noëlle said. “How can I help you?”

“I’m here to buy engagement presents for my son and his fiancée.”

“Oh, how lovely!” Noëlle said, “What did you have in mind?”

“I’d like a watch for my son and perhaps a nice pearl necklace for my future daughter-in-law.”

“Absolutely,” Noëlle replied. “Let me show you our Rolex Daytona watches.” As she directed the woman to the watch display, the woman took out a photo and handed it to her.

“Look,” she said, “these are the lovebirds.”

Noëlle felt as if she had just forgotten how to breathe. The picture was of Devon and that girl whose name she’d already forgotten. It was a professionally shot portrait. They’d gone to a studio and sat with their arms around each other in front of a camera. It was official. She’d said yes. Devon was off the market. She barely knew Devon, and she could easily get someone else just as good, but for some reason the thought of him marrying someone else made her burn, green with envy.

“Beautiful,” was all she managed to say. After she helped the woman pick out a watch and sold her on a string of Mikimoto pearls, she leaned against the counter with her head in her hands. This was disastrous. This was simply horrifying…

“Noëlle!” Noreen screeched, breaking her reverie, “did you see the emeralds?”

Writen by: Elizabeth Sowden

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