Christmas 1965 in New York City, where I lived, was snappy cold and with snow-covered streets. The prestigious Fifth Avenue department store I worked in was an ice palace of crystal decorations covering the ceilings from one end to the other.
Despite the beauty of my surroundings, on Christmas Eve I was feeling gloomy. The store was open late as usual and I was at my desk in the office where I was preparing to close up and go home. Recently divorced, I was heading to my parents home out of town and knew I would be late. Little did I know, just how late I would be!
Heading down the escalator, I felt a tap on my shoulder, turned around and there stood the man I had been dating, who happened to be an executive. My gloom stemmed from the fact that I assumed he had forgotten about me and, with Christmas season being so busy, had not even remembered me with a small token. He smiled and took my arm, leading me around and back up the escalator. Protesting that the store was closing, I was told that this night it would be open just a little longer, just for me! Yes, the doors were closed but the lights were still on. We were the only ones there besides security and the manager of the ladies wear floor. My friend waved his arm and said Pick what you want. Merry Christmas! My jaw dropped open as he and I wended our way through the beautiful fashions. I picked a red suit with black onyx buttons. As we headed down the escalator with the crystal-covered main floor spread below us with no one in it, I really felt like a princess. It was a most memorable Christmas.
