Sleeping with Beauty

by Donna Kauffman

  The veranda was expansive and shaded beneath a massive white canvas tent. A slowly swirling ceiling fan dropped down from the central peak and provided a steady breeze. The furniture was white wicker padded with thick, flower-patterned cushions. The table was smoked glass, set with an enormous sterling-silver tea set and two three-tiered trays filled with tiny fruit tarts, scones, and assorted pastries and finger sandwiches.

  The whole thing was a masterpiece of Southern Living perfection.

  Adjusting her glasses, Lucy looked down at her sensible shoes and grass-stained knees and realized she’d never felt gawkier or more out of place.

  Where was a patented Grady Rescue when she needed it?

  “Have a seat, dear,” instructed Mercedes.

  They each took their seats spaced evenly around the glass table, but she was still left feeling as if she’d been seated in front of a panel of pageant judges. A feeling that quickly proved to be prescient.

  Their business was immensely successful. With the added success of their newly launched magazine, and the opening of another Glass Slipper in Europe, it was truly a global empire. So, despite the fact that, on its face, it looked like Glass Slipper was being run by three women more suited to heading a Broadway revue (The Headmistress, the Southern Belle, and the Showgirl), the truth was, Lucy was completely intimidated.

  Linen napkins were spread on laps, scones and pastries were selected and arranged on china plates, tea was poured. Lucy cautiously waited for the other three to drink first, slightly relieved when none of them extended their pinky fingers or balanced the delicate china teacups and saucers on their knees. Lucy was just praying to get through the next thirty minutes without dropping a blob of fruit onto her blouse or knocking her knee into the table leg and shattering something valuable.

  “So,” Vivian said abruptly, dabbing the corners of her vividly painted lips as she spoke, “tell us why you chose to come to Glass Slipper.”

  Surprised by the sudden direct question, Lucy bobbled her teacup, but managed to save it from teetering to the floor at the last possible second. She sent a sheepish smile to the three women and said, “Well, if I can leave here more graceful than I arrived, that would be a nice start.”

  Aurora reached over to pat the back of her hand. “There dear, you’re doing marvelously.” Her faded eyes twinkled when she smiled and Lucy found herself wanting to trust in the genuine affection they seemed to be telegraphing.

  She took what strength she found there and faced the other two again. There was no way she could explain the complex reasons that had driven her to do this, when she didn’t entirely understand them herself. And she was beginning to think Grady and Jana had a point when they said she was setting herself up for disappointment. A two-week makeover was not going to cure what ailed her.

  So she gave them the easy answer. “I picked up a copy of your magazine the same day I received the invitation to my ten-year high school reunion.” She flashed what she hoped looked like an easy smile. “I wasn’t what anyone could term ‘popular’ in those days. So I suppose I’d hoped you could help turn the duckling into a swan, even if it’s only for a night.” Her smile grew. “Don’t worry. I’m not expecting miracles.”

  They didn’t immediately smile at her self-deprecating attempt at humor. She twisted the corners of her napkin in her lap.

  Vivian spoke first. “You don’t need a miracle. You’re a lovely young woman.”

  “I appreciate you saying that,” Lucy said, not believing a word of it. She was paying them to be nice, after all. “But I would feel more confident with a few tricks up my sleeves. I’m afraid I’m severely makeup impaired. And as you can see,” she added, motioning to her shoulder-length hair, pulled back with a wide barrette, “I’ve never exactly gotten the hang of styling my own hair.”

  “So, you’ve come for beauty tips?” Mercedes said, the comment sounding more like an accusation.

  Lucy faltered. Had she offended them? “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

  “Mercy,” Aurora gently chided. “Don’t rattle the poor child.” She turned her beneficent smile on Lucy. “Of course, we can give you confidence in the surface things,” she said, “but there is a great deal more we do here than teach makeup application.”

  “Of—of course there is,” Lucy began. This was all going horribly wrong. Barbie Camp was supposed to be fun. She’d imagined perky counselors spouting sunny affirmations while they waved their mascara wands and twirled their round brushes. Not these overly serious, dour old women. Well, not exactly dour, but still.

  Vivian chose that moment to lay her napkin next to her plate and shift her chair back. “If you’ll please excuse me.”

  Aurora’s gaze went from Lucy’s stricken expression to her partner. “Vivi, must you rush off? We’ve just started.”

  Just started? Lucy fought against the almost desperate urge to bolt. She’d followed the strict directions to leave the demands of the real world behind, which precluded bringing things like cell phones. But surely she could flag down a passing car. Then she would call Grady or Jana and prostrate herself on the Altar of Eternal I-Told-You-Sos if it meant getting herself the hell out of here.

  “Don’t get your fancy lace knickers in a twist,” Vivian calmly told Aurora. “I’m merely going to consult with Audrey.” She turned a smile on Lucy that, if it was meant to reassure, wildly missed the mark. “Finish your tea, darling. We’ll see you when you’re ready.”

  Hell will freeze over first, Lucy thought as she watched Vivian sashay back into the house. She’d pay big money to be able to sashay on four-inch heels, or sashay, period. But she was pretty sure that was an inborn trait.

  She looked back to the remaining two godmothers. And it hit her. She had, in fact, paid big money. Big to her meager savings account, anyway. But it was all relative, wasn’t it? She might not be the wife of some powerful Capitol Hill bigwig, but she deserved to get what she paid for. And if she had to sit through a grueling tea to get to the good part, well then, she was certainly made of stern-enough stuff, wasn’t she?

  She hadn’t survived the public school system for nothing.

  In a personal show of defiance, she placed her hands on the table. Bring it on, she thought rebelliously. Parochial schoolkids had nothing on her when it came to brazening her way through a bad situation.

  Pasting a brave smile on her face, she looked at both women and just put it out there. What the hell did she have to lose? It wasn’t like she’d wowed them thus far. “You’re right. I need more than makeup tips. There are a lot of things I want, more than we could possibly cover in two weeks. But most of all, I want to walk into my high school reunion and feel bulletproof. For that, I need help. A lot of it. I came here because you’re the best.” She lifted her palms. “So I’m putting myself in your hands. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

  Aurora beamed and Lucy thought she even spied a hint of grudging admiration in Mercedes’s expression. Or it could be she was just dizzy from trying not to hyperventilate.

  Both women stood. “Well, then,” Mercedes said, “no point in wasting any more time on pleasantries.”

  Lucy almost choked. This had been the pleasant part? She took a last fortifying sip of caffeine and stood. It cost her to resist the urge to present them with her wrists and ask them to take her to their leader. This was, after all, about as alien an experience as she was ever likely to have. But she didn’t think they had much use for her brand of humor. Or any humor, as far as she could tell.

  She followed Mercedes into the house and down another long hallway. They stopped in front of a matching walnut-and-stained-glass door. “Audrey is waiting,” she instructed. “You’ll work together to develop your regimen here. She’ll be here for you anytime of the day or night for the duration of your stay, should you have any questions or concerns. Of course, we’ll do our best to make ourselves available to you, as well.” She smiled tightly. Or maybe that was the only way she knew how to smile. “Welcome to Glass Slippe
r, Lucy.”

  Lucy nodded. “Thank you. And thank you for the tea, the personal meeting. I didn’t expect that.”

  The door opened and Vivian stepped out. “It’s our trademark,” she said. “We like to make each guest feel as if they are receiving one hundred percent of our attention.”

  She was certain they meant to make her feel coddled and special, but she was feeling self-conscious enough right then that she’d have gladly accepted, say, fifty percent of their attention. Or less. It wasn’t their fault. She just wasn’t used to this kind of beneficent scrutiny. Bugs felt more secure under microscopes than she did at that moment.

  Mercedes and Vivian retreated down the hall, heads together, but Lucy couldn’t make out whatever they were whispering about. She had the distinct impression it was about her.

  Aurora put her hand on Lucy’s arm. “You’re going to be magnificent, you know,” she said gently. Her smile grew and the fairy-godmother twinkle returned to her eyes. “I always have a feeling for these things.”

  “Thank—thank you,” Lucy said, surprised to realize how badly she wanted to believe the older woman. Where was the cynic inside her when she needed her most?

  “Don’t worry so much. Trust us,” she said, as if she’d read Lucy’s thoughts. “You’re right. We are the best. Do what we ask of you, and you’ll see I’m right.” She grinned and it almost looked a bit mischievous. “I usually am. Just don’t tell Vivian. She’ll want to think this is all her idea.”

  “‘This’?” Lucy asked, beginning to wonder just what kind of “tea” Aurora had been sipping.

  “It’s exciting, isn’t it? You’ve taken destiny into your own hands, dear.”

  That proclamation probably wasn’t intended to fill her with dread.

  She was gently nudged into the office. Aurora remained out in the hallway. The soft click of the door shutting behind her echoed in her mind as loudly as the jarring sound of a jail cell clanking shut.

  Don’t worry so much.

  “Sure,” she muttered under her breath. “Easy for you to say.”

  With a deep breath, pasting a fake confident smile on her face, she squared her shoulders and prepared herself to take her destiny like a big girl.

  Chapter 4

  Lucy rubbed damp palms on the sides of her khaki trousers and pushed up her glasses. Day two at Glass Slipper and she’d yet to have the first eyebrow hair plucked.

  She twisted the antique crystal knob and opened yet another walnut-and-stained-glass door. This time, instead of one of the godmothers, or Audrey, her personal cheerleader, there was a shrink waiting for her on the other side. Her purpose today was to delve into the reasons behind Lucy’s desire to change her appearance.

  Oh, goody. It just kept getting better and better.

  Who wanted to spend their morning talking about why they were a perennial wallflower? Wasn’t it obvious what kind of help she needed? Did they really have to sit around and discuss it?

  “Welcome, Lucy,” a familiar voice greeted her cheerfully.

  Lucy stopped short just inside the door, surprised. “Aurora, I mean, Ms. Favreaux.”

  Aurora lifted one perfectly stenciled brow.

  “Aurora,” Lucy corrected herself again, gave a nervous smile. “I, uh, you surprised me. I thought I was meeting with Dr. Sullivan.” She leaned in and looked around to see if maybe this was to be another one of those panel type of discussions. But Aurora was the only one in the beautifully appointed room.

  “Phoebe was called away. Family matter.” She smiled and that reassuring godmother twinkle emerged once again.

  Assuming Phoebe was Dr. Sullivan, Lucy tried not to collapse in immediate relief. But all she could think was, Oh, thank God, no alien mind probe today! “What a shame, I’m sor-sorry,” she stuttered, the lie not coming easily. “Has the appointment been rescheduled?” She did her best not to look too hopeful.

  Aurora motioned for Lucy to sit down, the stack of bracelets on her wrist jangling at the motion. “Why don’t you sit down.”

  Not an encouraging sign. Lucy stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. She’d expected some kind of tasteful office decor geared toward exerting a calming influence on those forced to enter. Instead, it looked more like the sitting room off an elaborate boudoir.

  It was small, or perhaps it was the illusion created by the fact that the walls were covered in a wine-colored linen with a raised-velvet fleur-de-lis print. The floor was carpeted with two colorful, densely woven Oriental rugs, topped with a collection of overstuffed, brocade-covered, antique chairs, all grouped to face one another around a beautifully restored teak tea table. Lighting was soft, provided by several standing lamps, each with dark cream-colored antique shades and elaborate pull chains sporting crystal knobs at the end.

  The sensual decor exuded a warmth and coziness that went at least a short way toward soothing her nerves. Definitely more so than in the clinical feng shui setup she’d expected to find.

  Aurora, dressed in a burgundy-and-gold silk caftan, was seated in the chair with the highest back, leaving Lucy to choose between two other chairs of slightly less stature. A light tea had been set on the table in a pretty silver service that Lucy did her best not to bump into as she chose the seat most directly across from Aurora.

  “I hope you don’t mind the last-minute substitution, dear,” Aurora began, as she leaned forward and poured two cups of tea with the sort of elegant grace Lucy could only dream of having. “We didn’t want to delay the beginning of your program here, so I offered to step in and conduct this initial discussion.”

  Lucy was unable to hide her surprise. “You’re going to conduct the session?”

  Aurora’s smile was self-deprecating and quite charming. “Not that I have a degree, but I think we can cover the basics well enough. I’m sure Phoebe will fill in all the gaps when you see her next.”

  “‘Next’?” Lucy blurted before she could stop herself. Did they think she was in such bad shape that she needed a battery of discussions with a shrink? All because she said she wanted to be bulletproof? Maybe it had been a poor choice of words. Did they think she was going to go back and mow down her evil classmates or something?

  Aurora handed her a cup and saucer, her serene smile easily in place. “Why don’t we just focus on our little talk today, hm?”

  Lucy took the cup and saucer, the china pieces clattering harder against each other the more she struggled to keep them steady. With an apologetic smile, she finally placed the set on the table between them. “It’s such a nice set. No point in ruining it.”

  Aurora graciously made no comment as she settled herself back in her chair. When the silence spun out as the older woman sipped her tea, Lucy realized it was up to her to start things off. It felt like a test. She gave tests all the time. It was what teachers did. That didn’t mean she enjoyed taking them.

  Feeling a little desperate, she nodded at the framed prints on the walls. Each one featured a door. Some open, some shut. Some fancy, some austere. Garden doors, castle doors, random doors. “Interesting photographs,” she said, by way of nothing except to delay this talk as long as possible. “Did you take these yourself?”

  Aurora shifted her gaze, too, and her smile softened as true affection lit her eyes. “My late husband, Way, took those.” She looked to Lucy. “He was in politics, and we traveled often together. These were sort of a hobby of his.” She looked back at the prints. “I like them. It always makes me remember that life is an adventure. Doors will close. Others will open.” She shot Lucy a fast smile. “And you never know what’s behind the next one.”

  “Good philosophy,” Lucy said, feeling her own mouth curve in response. Despite the general intimidation she’d felt since setting foot on the perfectly manicured grounds, she’d been drawn to Aurora from the moment they’d met. Soft and a bit ethereal, with that twinkle thing she had going on, she seemed to embody the fairy-godmother spirit.

  “So,” Aurora began, her teacup and sauce
r balanced perfectly on top of her caftan-covered knee. “Why don’t we talk a little bit about your reunion.”

  “Aurora,” Lucy began warily, only to be interrupted.

  “I know the visit with Dr. Sullivan wasn’t something you expected,” Aurora broke in, her face wreathed in an understanding smile. “But you need to trust we know what we’re doing. In fact, you’d be surprised to know how helpful these little sessions are for us. By asking you some questions and chatting a bit about a few things, we’ll be able to build the program that will provide you with the greatest benefit.”

  “So this is standard? I didn’t see it mentioned in the literature.”

  “No,” Aurora admitted, “it’s not ‘standard.’ We don’t have ‘standard’ plans here. Every person is unique, and so are their concerns. We approach each of our guests as individuals and plan their program accordingly.”

  “Is it really all that complicated?”

  Aurora took another measured sip. “Are you saying your reasons for wanting to attend your reunion as something of a knockout are simple?”

  Lucy shrugged, feeling another twinge of discomfort. Chatting a bit, my ass. Aurora might have the smile of a fairy godmother, but those faded blue eyes told the real story. And they were shrewd. “If we’re going to get existential, then no, of course not. On one plane, even the simplest decision is a resolution reached after assessing complex layers of motivation and desire.” Aurora didn’t appear to be impressed by her academic bullshit. Rats. “But what I want here is pretty basic. Both the motivation and desire are, I would imagine, fairly common. I wasn’t one of the swans in high school. Far from it. I’ve long since accepted that.” So much for keeping her school issues out of the conversation, too. “But when I got the reunion notice and your magazine article in the same day, I figured, why not get a little outside help, scrape off a layer or two of ugly duckling, and go back with my head held high? Trust me, I won’t hold anyone at Glass Slipper accountable if I don’t get the reunion-queen crown. I just want to . . .” Wow them. Blow their collective snotty minds. Make an entrance, dammit. “Fit in,” she finished lamely.