Magnolia Boutique

Magnolia Boutique is best known as a fashionable clothing shop for women, children and pets. Though deceptively small from outside, there are rows upon rows of clothing on beautifully designed wooden racks and shelves. At the center of the shop is a large, fake magnolia tree in full pink blossom. Attached to the trunk are signs that point the way to the different sections of the shop. Half of the main floor is open to the second floor ceiling, with the other half beneath the overhanging second floor balcony. Skylights help keep the store looking airy and bright during the day, but fluorescent lighting keeps the store looking bright well into the darkness of night.

Toward the back of the shop are the dressing rooms, and a flight of stairs which leads up to the second floor. A lift service is also available for customers that are disabled, or have a stroller with them.

A small coffee stand sits at the front of the store, offering a variety of coffees and teas for the customers. Oft times, shoppers can be found nearby, sipping coffee and chatting.

It's late, late, late, and, well, not as usual, but regardless, Mignonette is late for a very important date. She didn't even bother to get her car out of short-term parking, once she got out of baggage claim at the airport, just hopped into the first cab she could flag down, fixed herself up as best she could on the ride over and hopped out without bothering to get change as soon as the car slowed down long enough, making her way into the boutique as quickly and as neatly as her red-lacquer soled Louboutins can carry her. At least she's dressed for business. It's the only plus in this situation, "David, etes-vous ici? «David, are you here?»"


David is within, a hand in his pocket, the other gesturing animatedly as he speaks to one of the sale clerks. He's attentive, but politely so, to the young woman who is obviously volunteering her time to help with the models and the fashion show in general. The chances, however, are better than even that the clerk is more volunteering her time to -him-, the smile, the laugh, the overly attentiveness to the man— who is either oblivious or pretending not to notice.

Hearing the familiar voice, his puts a hand up, finger pointing, and twists around to search the immediate area in order to respond. "Oui, je suis ici— a l'arriere du magasin." «Yes, I'm here— in the back of the store.»


Thank goodness. He didn't decide there was somewhere else he'd rather be. Not that the epidemiologist is a man given to leaving his obligations unfulfilled, but she did leave him alone. In a store. Full of women's clothing. It's only a step up from the horrors of making him wait inside of a Victoria's Secret. Not that Mignonette has done that. Yet. But, regardless, the small woman making her way towards the back of the store, following the sound of the Canadien's voice, until she comes up around a line of dresses and pops into view. "Je croyais etre trop tard." «I thought I was too late.» There's no hesitation, however, as Mignonette comes up on the man in question, a hand reaching out to touch his arm, as much to steady herself as to gain his attention, as she leans in, offering a kiss, before she settles back onto her heels, "Mon vol a ete redirige." «My flight was delayed.» I remembered the paperwork." A friendly, warm smile to the saleswoman, "I am sorry to have kept you waiting."


The appearance of Mignonette shifts David's attention around such that it becomes quickly obvious to the clerk that any hope is either lost, or was in vain to begin with. Reaching out to grasp Migs' arm to steady her in the lean in, he returns the kiss of greeting, less 'casual' and more 'she's with me' to it. "Des orages. Je le bien comprends." «Storms. I really do understand.» "I'm here, though.. talking to Miss Webster, who has graciously agreed to help dress the models."


The clerk in question manages to swallow what bitter pill she's given and lifts a smile. "He's persuasive, but I'd be glad to help."

"I think all we need is your eye, Mignonette." Well, and the paperwork.


Once the greeting is comfortably out of the way, the pair keeping their PDAs, as always, discreet and demure, Mignonette settles into the role she seems to know best. Alright, second best. In such situations, shopping for a new piece of clothing would be what she does best, but alas, perhaps after business has been concluded. And so, the brief case is opened, and the paperwork pulled out, all neatly ordered and organized, with the outline for what the charity is looking for in the models, in the designers, in the show itself. There's an emphasis on showcasing local, non-commercial designers and students. It also includes a few offers from neighbourhood salons to come in and attend to the hair and makeup, "Thank you, Miss Webster. We really are quite excited to be able to work with your boutique on the fashion show. I hope we're not cutting it too close on the timing."


"Timing? No.. though it will take a day or so to work on identifying the local designers. Calls to the distributers and such." Miss Webster looks between the pair, and tries to keep her attention evenly distributed, but failing. It could be the blue eyes, or it could be the french.. or both. "I'd be more than happy to do so, however." Craning her neck around to watch as Mignonette pulls the paper out, she catches a couple of papers. Reaching for one of the piles, she looks at it briefly before she nods. "I think we won't have any problems."

David nods as Mignonette 'takes over', which is more than fine with him. In this case, he's running support— the 'think of the children' voice of reason. And, apparently, in the case of single shop owners, the eye candy? Not that he thinks about it that way. "I can't help but believe that there will be a great deal of bidding on some of your lines," twisting around, David reaches out to an article of thin clothing.. shirt, such as it is. "You'll probably see a rise of sales for the quarter, too."


"We really do want to make this a vehicle for local designers to get their designs into the public consciousness." And Mignonette is more than familiar with that. She was born and bred at the echelon of society where the greatest faux pais is to be seen wearing the same thing twice. "And certainly, there has been quite a bit of interest in the creativity of the designs, so I hope it will be an opportunity for the designers to feel really free to express their artistic license." Mignonette offers over the neatly arranged folders, allowing the woman to look them over at her leisure.

And if the question is, has she failed to notice the woman's interest in the man now standing near to her, the answer would certainly be no. But Mignonette, clearly, sees no reason not to use the saleswoman's interest to her advantage, "I believe Dr. Trudeau will be handling the emcee duties, as he did for our auction. So you'll, mostly likely, be coordinating the show with him." Don't hate her for throwing you under the bus, cher homme.


David clears his throat and gives Mignonette a lingering look before he smiles lopsidedly and nods. "I'll need things spelled out for me. This one, I'm afraid I know little about, so I hope I don't make too much of a fool of myself."

The owner leans forward, the words looking like they'll come tumbling out, but with a quick glance to Mignonette, she tempers what she probably was going to say. "I'm sure you'll do fine. Any questions, you can certainly contact me and I'll help you to the best of my ability."

Smiling tightly, David had a feeling that an offer resembling that was going to be given, and he nods his appreciation. "Great. I'll probably have to ask you if I have any problems. So, don't be surprised." He couldn't say 'no', but rather he makes the attempt to disentangle himself politely.


"You have become the face of the charity," something which is certainly true. And, as they are a charity focused on the medical needs of the community, and children in particular, the donors like to see a doctor at the 'helm'. "The event would not do half as well, if we selected someone else to handle those duties." A smile, to Miss Webster, as she turns slightly away, to look out across the boutique and the clothing already on offering there, "I am certain, between the two of you, that it will be a rousing success."

But shopper that she is, with a keep eye for the up and coming, Mignonette moves over to a selection of dresses. Not casual enough to be cocktail, or formal enough to be black tie, "These are absolutely exquisite. I don't recognize the name. Is he one of the local talent?" Ooh, she can already see herself in one of these.


Oh yes, now to dodge the bus tires, thank you.

A tight smile is given to Mignonette in the acknowledgment, and inclining his head to the shop clerk, David follows along; tagging along with clothes 'shopping' is clearly more desirable than continued small talk with the woman behind the counter. Besides, there are more than a few papers that have to be looked over, and in lulls of activity, why not give the woman the chance to view them?

"Yes," the owner nods, "he's actually on the other side of town. Comes in every couple of weeks, checking to see what sells and what doesn't. He's got an eye for future trends while not getting too.. well, some shows, I like to call them 'dare clothes'. You know, the sort you'd only wear on a dare?"


Mignonette's answering smile is bright and sweet. Yes, she knows exactly what David is thinking, but she is trying to help. "You know i've been searching high and low for a dress to wear to the anniversary party for the firm. What do you think of this one?" It is rather nice, sleek black, with a sort of riff on a tuxedo. It has ample back coverage, which, despite the months that have passed, and the reconstructive surgery, Mignonette still attempts to mask her back as often and as well as possible. "I know those sorts of clothes quite well. But I really like his eye. And as you can imagine, I spend more time in formal clothing than normal clothing, so having someone who would suit my needs and tastes, well," yes, she's not above having a personal designer. "Should I try it on?"


"I think it's.." Nice? Becoming? ".. I like it." David searches for the words, and eventually finds them, after a fashion.

In support, Miss Webster puts the papers that were in hand down, and steps out from behind her counter. "Feminine and professional, with the touch of little black dress tossed in." She smiles to Mignonette. "It'll work with open pumps, closed boots, clutch purse or briefcase. Diamonds or pearls."

David twists around to where the owner moved and clears his throat softly, taking a step to the side while pushing up his glasses, allowing some space for the approach. "I think you should."

Miss Webster nods, her eyes lighting as she looks between the pair. "I can imagine. Too bad, Dr. Trudeau, that I don't have anyone who could dress you," much to her disappointment. "But, Miss Savoy, I will find his card for you, if you'd like?"


"You're so sweet." Even if it does take the doctor some time to think of the right words, even when he finds the wrong words, Mignonette seems rather taken with the honesty of his expression and his tone, likely one of the reasons, among many, that she's equally taken with the Canadien. "I think I have just the accesories in mind. I knew all of that windowe shopping would come in handy." Mignonette flashes a smile in the woman's direction, along with a, "Thank you, Miss Webster, I would like that very much. As for Doctor Trudeau, he hardly needs dressing, as you can see, he wears anything exceedingly well." and a softer, "Je serai de retour. «I will be right back.»" before she heads off towards the dressing room, to do the one thing she's never too tired to do. The only daughter of Meredith Savoy indeed.


"I thought window shopping meant not buying?" The question is, of course, rhetorical. With Miss Mignonette Savoy, definitions have a tendency to shift to suit the lawyer. The problem is, it is almost always to her advantage, and it's always a logical shift. Window shopping went from simply looking to being lured into the store by the goods in the window and purchasing therefrom.

Inclining his head, David takes the compliment a little self-consciously, but takes it all the same. Not one to linger on the words, however, the French offered in his direction is given a response, "Je vais t'attendre." «I'll wait for you.»

Miss Webster, listening to the exchange and not quite understanding the language, sighs, "I have always loved.. what is that? French? I figure that I should probably learn it if I ever wanted to see the shows in Paris."


Mignonette, thankfully, is already well on her way to the dressing room, and so, can claim plausible deniability to the look David sends in her direction, and the turn of the conversation with Miss Webster. Mignonette is, not, as one might imagine, given her upbringing and profession, a terribly jealous woman, and that, coupled with her faith in her gentleman caller's intentions, leave her not at all bothered by the saleswoman's overtures towards the good doctor. And truth be told, she's quite taken with the idea of potentially, finally finding a dress for the firm's 250th. And so, in she goes, taking her time to make the change between her own clothing and the dress she picked out from the selection. The shoes she doesn't change, but being as they are her favourite black patent leather pair, that seems to suit her well enough. She does, however, take the time to let down her hair, allowing it to fall downa round her face and over her back. Once she's as ready as she can be, she returns, hands daintily holding up the edges of her hem as she walks. The dress actually suits her quite well, being made for someone who, like herself, is a bit lacking in 'womanly curves'. Only a few minor alterations would be needed. And it does suit her. Smart and elegant, with a hint of sensuality.


Oh, Mignonette is more than aware of the look that she receives that follows her into the changing room, David is certain. Looking across at Miss Webster, he smiles tightly and pushes up his glasses before facing forward again, pushing his hands into his pockets. "Oh, I don't know. They're pretty good about English there." The words are offered to the air in front of him.

"I think it's a really pretty language. Like.. what you guys are saying to each other.."

"What? I just said I'd wait for her?"

"Oh.." The shop owner looks a little disappointed that it wasn't something sappily romantic. She rallies, however, "Well, it sounded pretty."

"I guess—" Mignonette's emergence from the fitting room brings a smile to David's face. "Il semble beaucoup plus agreable sur vous que sur le rack." «It looks much nicer on you than on the rack.» "Vous avez peut etre trouve ta robe pour la soiree." «You may have found your dress for the evening.»


Mignonette makes the most of the walk between the dressing room and where man and woman are standing. After all, this is, potentially, the dress David will have to be looking at most of the night, and dancing with to boot. She might as well give him a chance to make an informed decision. But once she hears his 'vote', so to speak, her face breaks out in a bright smile, as she turns in a slow circle, to allow him to see it from every angle. "it flows so well, and it's very comfortable." Despite the fact that she seems to live and sleep in her stilettos, Mignonette does actually like to be mostly comfortable in her clothing, "If you like it, then we will go with this one." Maybe it is sappy, but she does truly value David's opinions, even on her choice of clothing, particularly when she's doing things with him, "You'll be wearing the tux from the country club?"


Now, this is what Miss Webster was referring to. Whatever it was that Dr. Trudeau said, it obviously caused the other woman to shine. Sighing a little too loudly and perhaps a little wistfully, the shop owner nods her head. "It looks very nice. Now, if you," she steps forward to reach for a couple bits on the waist, "bring this in a little, and turn this," she is obviously a dresser by trade as well. "And it looks stunning. Very little alteration necessary. Let me give you his card."

David nods his head encouragingly, "Absolutely. I'll be the man with the star of the evening on his arm." He chuckles a little self-consciously now, more than aware that women are never caught dead in the same dress twice, while men tend to wear their tuxedos more than once. "And yes. And with that dress, my white shirt should do fine."

Miss Webster clucks softly and turns to go back to her counter and the information promised, that is, the contact information for the designer that had caught Miss Savoy's attention. Piling the papers on top of each other, she finds the card in question and heads back over, handing it over to David.
"Here. I'm sure he'll be more than happy to help you both out."

David nods, pulling a hand from his pocket to take hold of the card. "Oh, thanks. You, ah.. didn't need to find this so quickly. I have a feeling we'll be looking at your clothes in here for some time to come."

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