Ken was standing there, no slippers, still in his yukata, which he hadn't bothered to tie, all the color gone from his face. Behind him were two uniformed hotel maids, bearing what was surely the most gorgeous kimono she had ever seen, heavy silk with a hand-painted landscape, edged in gold brocade.
"Tamara, I had no idea, honestly. Noda-sama only found out when we got here, and he couldn't say anything. It was all top secret, heavy security. They only just arrived a few minutes ago, and he's asked Noda to dine with him." He paused for breath. "We're invited too."
"Who's just arrived?"
Asano was so nonplussed he didn't hear her. "Apparently he wanted to review the site plans personally, tomorrow, to see where the museum will be. I hear the Imperial Household was set against it, but he insisted."
"Who, for God's sake?" The impossible answer was rapidly dawning.
Abruptly he paused, embarrassed by his own mental disarray.
"His Majesty. Tam, we're about to meet the Emperor of Japan."
In marched the bowing maids, lots of long-vowel honorifics—they apparently assumed the honorable Richardson-san must be America's First Lady—and took over.
Tam knew full well that donning a formal kimono was no small undertaking, but she'd forgotten what a major task it really could be. First came the undergarments: cotton vest and silk under-kimono, secured twice, once with a cord and then with an under-sash. Next was the kimono itself, right side folded under the left and then bound at the waist with a cord, the excess length being pulled up and folded over so that the hem just cleared the toes. That fold was in turn secured by another waist cord, after which came yet another under-sash. Now it was ready for the all-important outer sash, the obi, a heavy silk strip wound around the waist twice, cinched hard, and knotted at the back, long end up, short end down. Then the long end was folded into a sort of cloth origami, this one a butterfly, after which it was rolled into a makeshift tube, into which the short end was stuffed. Finally this obi sculpture was secured with yet another waist cord, knotted in front.
It was all done with minute precision, including the rakish display of a prescribed few millimeters of silk under kimono at the neck, an erotic touch for traditionalists. Finally she put on special tabi stockings, bifurcated at the big toe to accommodate her thonged slippers.