It is a Spring Thing

“The world is mud-luscious and puddle-wonderful.” – E.E. Cummings

“Stop this madness,” Willimina howled, as she accidentally stepped in a puddle with her new designer heels. Willimina Hayslett just flew into Los Angeles from New York City to visit her clients regarding her new fall line. Although it hardly ever rains in Los Angeles, she managed to find a muddy pool of water to step into. In the northeast, muddy puddles were just synonymous to the unpredictability of spring.

She was polished and dressed impeccably, for she was a walking symbol of ultimate fashion. But she was, on the other hand, never an optimist. Even as a baby she cried every time her mother tried to put her into her favorite fleece sweater. “Look at that thing, it’s hideous, you would cry too if you had to wear it,” she said to her boyfriend, who was looking with her through her old baby photos. She had a series of handsome boyfriends, but not one was ever suited or stylish enough for her.

“No, not the Willimina Hayslett heels!” exclaimed a man who just witnessed the event.

Willimina looked up to look at the most stylish and debonair man she had ever seen.

“How did you know that these were…?”

“Are you kidding me? Willimina Hayslett is my specialty! I have a store on Rodeo and I sell her stuff. You should come and visit since you are also a big fan of her and you can perhaps get a new pair of heels.”

Perhaps he didn’t recognize who she was with her big black shades, or maybe it was because her hair was up. But then again, she remembered that she didn’t care for photographers too much and avoided them all like a plague, so not too many pictures of her circulated, not even at fashion week in New York or Milan.

“Thank you,” said Willimina, “but I have too many of her stuff in my warehouse, too.”

“Would you care to join me at the café here, where I was sipping my coffee before I witnessed the tragedy?”

Willimina didn’t have to go anywhere until the next day, so she obliged. During the course of their encounter, she learned that his name was William Hatsfield and that he was originally from Powers Lake, South Dakota – not the hybrid of luxurious living that she hoped for but he, after all, was certainly a big fan of her work. As she looked down at her waterlogged heels, she wondered if she should tell him?

Then she remembered what Matt Lockhard, the independent California insurance agent said, “Don’t have to tell the whole story all the time in order for them to believe you!”

“I would love to see your store while I’m in California,” she said to William just short of being interrupted by her cell phone. “Excuse me for a moment, William. Hello, mother…yes, yes, I see… How is the weather in Powers Lake?”

At that moment, William forgot about his infatuation with Willimina Hayslett and fell in love with a hometown girl.

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