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AN OLD FRIEND
AMY MARCH PAINTS in the garden. she's been taking classes in paris, in addition to attending parties and keeping you company. she's angelic, with golden curls, and at the ripe age of twenty. she's painting a staged scene, along with a few other young artists. it's a classic scene of two young men and a young woman at a picnic. amy tries her best to render it realistically, imitating the eighteenth and nineteenth century painters she so loved.
she looks at the painting of the young man next to her. he is doing something radically different—the paint is obvious, the colors are bright and un-life-like, space is flattened. it is not meant to be realistic: it is the beginning of modernism.
amy looks back at her own piece, disappointed. had she missed the moment she came here to master? she's troubled now, contemplating and second guessing every stroke she makes with her brush.
you are in the paris promenade, in an open air carriage with aunt alice. in three years, she's gotten healthier. she's happy and in excellent form. without fail, aunt alice tells you this is the place to see and to be seen.
"[ y/n ]." your aunt nudges you. your gaze shifts from the scenery to her face.
"yes, aunt alice." you smile at her, eyes wandering back to the trees.
"i said, this is the place to see and be seen." your aunt repeats.
"of course, aunt alice." you say, attempting to please her. she scoffs.
"i hope you aren't this attentive during your parties and lunches. but then i suppose it's alright, you're already engaged." your cheeks darken. yes, you are engaged to oliver chadwick. the lovely young man that you had met at the debutante ball so long ago. he's good to you, very sweet, very rich, as your aunt likes to remind you, and you feel you've finally gotten over laurie and you're starting to actually fall in love with oliver. "i'm proud of you." she says, grasping your hand in hers. you welcome the slight affectionate gesture and direct your attention back to the busy promenade.
you watch the moving faces from the carriage when suddenly, you recognize one. he's walking, head up, still as arrogant as ever. his long, grey, coat swishes with his steps. eyes widening, you gasp and turn your head as you pass him.
"STOP THE CARRIAGE! TEDDY! TEDDY!" no doubt, bringing attention to yourself. you don't wait until the carriage stops and you hop out, almost stepping on your dress.
"what are you doing?" aunt alice asks, as you clime out. laurie's head turns at the mention of his nickname. there's only two people who call him 'teddy' and he recognizes the voice and he breaks out into a smile. you're careful not to step over your dress and grab onto the fabric firmly. forgetting all of your manners, you almost trip over people rushing into his arms. he's quick to catch you and spin you around.
