“Millie? Did you need me?”
Taking a deep breath, Millie blurted out before her brain could stop her mouth, “I want a makeover.”
“Thank God!” Laura said and raised her hands as if in supplication to the fashion gods. “I’ve been waiting for this day since, well, since I met you.”
“Millie, are you sure?” Darcy asked.
“Yes.” She unclenched the fists at her sides.
“Cool.” Darcy regarded Laura. “I get to be Clinton this time.”
“No, you don’t,” Laura replied, arms crossed over her chest. “You’re always Clinton.”
“That’s because I have his green eyes and sparkling wit.”
Laura huffed in exasperation and dropped her hands by her side. “Fine. But I’m only letting you get your way because you’re with child.”
“You guys are scaring me,” Millie said, backing out of the kitchen.
“Already?” Darcy said on a laugh.
“Oh, no you don’t, sweetcakes.” Laura latched on to Millie’s wrist. “Don’t be a tease. You’re not backing out now when I’ve got my hopes up.”
“Saturday,” Darcy said.
“Deal,” Laura agreed. “We’ll start early.”
Darcy cringed.
“Better get used to it, sweetpea.” Laura had yet to let go of her death-grip on Millie’s wrist.
“What’s with you and sweet nicknames?” Darcy asked as she pried Laura’s fingers from Millie’s arm.
Laura released her grip and shrugged. “Ad campaign for a new no-calorie sweetener. Trying out a few.”
Saturday morning, bright and early, someone rang the buzzer for Millie’s apartment. “Who is it?” Although she knew good and well who it was. Her tormentors.
“Let us in. It’s time for your intervention,” Laura’s voice said through the intercom.
When Millie opened the door to them, she did so with some trepidation.
“Why are you at my apartment?” Millie asked in confusion. “I thought we were going”—she suppressed a shudder—“shopping.”
“Do you not know how the What Not to Wear intervention starts?” Laura drew back in surprise.
“That’s a television show, right? I don’t have a TV.”
“You don’t have a TV.” Laura stood there, momentarily silent, a pained look on her face. “Darcy, or should I say, Clinton, why don’t you tell Millie how the intervention starts.”
“We go through your clothes and get rid of anything that we think should go.”
“Which in this case is everything,” Laura added.
Millie drew back in horror. “What? You’re going to throw out my clothes?”
“No.” Darcy patted her hand. “We’re not going to throw them out. We’re going to give them to charity.”
Laura snorted. “The charity, however, will take one look at them and throw them out.”
Biting her lip, Millie opened the door wider for them. She thought she’d add a few things to her wardrobe, not start from scratch.
“How cute!” Darcy exclaimed as she caught her first glimpse of Millie’s apartment. “Reminds me of my apartment in college.” At Laura’s expression, Darcy continued, “What? I loved that apartment.”
“Clothes?” Laura asked, all business.
Millie pointed in the direction of her clothes cubby.
Laura froze, then pointed to the tiny storage area. “That’s where you keep your clothes?” At Millie’s nod, Laura asked, “All of them?”
“Yes.”
“Well, this won’t take long.” Flinging open the door, Laura grabbed a handful of hangers and tossed the clothes on the bed. Darcy followed suit and before long every article of clothing Millie owned was lying in a heap on her bed.
“Are you color blind?” Laura asked, eyeing the pile of clothes.
“No. Why?”
“Everything you own is brown.”
“I like brown.” Millie shrugged. Because it helps me blend in, she thought with some chagrin. Which I no longer want to do, she reminded herself. “And since I don’t have to worry about matching, it saves me time getting dressed in the morning,” she finished lamely.
“Clearly.” Laura picked up a chunky wool turtleneck sweater. “You use this for birth control?”
Millie snatched the sweater out of Laura’s hand as the heat rose to her face. “I like it. It’s warm.”
“So is an electric blanket, but I wouldn’t wear one.” Laura snatched it back. “It’s outta here.”
A half hour later, everything lay on the floor, including Millie’s white cotton granny panties, as Laura had called them, her white cotton bras, brown wool tights, and flannel nightgowns. She’d fought hard for the nightgowns, but to no avail.
“Well, let’s bag this stuff up for the homeless shelter,” Darcy said, as she bent over to pick up a pair of pants.
“Oh, no you don’t,” Laura said. “You’re not doing all that bending. Josh would have my head.” Laura waved her hand at the pile. “Millie, make yourself useful.”
At Millie’s look, Laura said, “Hey. You asked for our help, remember?”
Okay. She did. But now she was thinking of having her head examined. On a sigh, she went in search of some bags.
After bagging up the clothes, something occurred to her. “Wait. What am I supposed to wear tomorrow?” The torture, er, intervention schedule, had been extended by a day.
“Good point.” Laura reached into the closest bag and took out a brown corduroy dress. “Here.”
“Thanks,” Millie muttered.
“Next stop, the optical shop for contact lenses.” Laura directed.
“But—” Millie protested.
“No buts. Ever heard the phrase, ‘Men don’t make passes at girls who wear glasses?’”
Millie snorted, thinking of Ian. He’d made a pass. More than a pass. Much, much more.
Then moved on. And now he would be going to England.
Maybe Laura was right. But she’d rather give away her book collection than admit that to her.
Millie thought she’d hate contact lenses. That she wouldn’t be able to tolerate them. She thought she’d be conscious of them every minute of the day, but she’d been wrong. She’d worn glasses for as long as she could remember, and although she felt naked without her glasses, she also felt liberated without them.
She gazed at her reflection in the optical shop mirror. She could see her eyes. Not just the brown frames surrounding them.
“Laura wasn’t always Miss Perfect, you know,” Darcy said, looking over Millie’s shoulder in the mirror.
Laura snorted.
“And she’s perfect now?” Millie quipped. Although it was true. Laura always resembled a magazine cover model. Perfect. Like now, as she too joined them at the mirror, rolling her eyes.
“When I first met Laura in kindergarten, she wore glasses.”
“Really?” She cut her eyes to Laura’s reflection. That surprised Millie. She couldn’t imagine the ever-beautiful Laura wearing glasses.
“It wasn’t until, what, sixth grade that you started wearing contacts?” Darcy asked, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
“And I never went back.”
“Who wants lunch?” Darcy rubbed her belly. “Peanut’s starving.”
After lunch at a trendy café in Tribeca, Darcy and Josh had plans, and Laura was meeting Nathan at her parents, so Millie returned to her apartment and the bags of clothes still standing by the door. Sorely tempted to pull some of her clothes out and put them away, she reminded herself why she was doing this.
Tomorrow, who knew what Darcy and Laura would pick out for her, especially Laura. But she’d asked for this, and she’d follow throu
gh. What did she have to lose? Eying the bags again, she thought, besides her invisibility.
Chapter 28
The next morning, Millie, Darcy, and Laura climbed out of a cab in front of a large department store.
“Let’s start with the basics and keep it simple,” Laura said, as she led the way to the women’s department. “And the color brown is strictly prohibited.” She pointed her finger at Millie.
Millie sighed, wondering again what had possessed her to initiate this torture.
After about an hour, loaded down with clothes, everything from pants and tops, to dresses and jeans, Millie entered the dressing room with some apprehension.
“Try the black wool slacks with the red cashmere sweater,” Laura called through the door.
Millie eyed the pants, convinced they were several sizes too small. Stepping into them, she gasped when she realized they fit. Glancing at her image in the mirror, she appeared taller, and slimmer.
“What? What is it?” Darcy asked.
“Nothing.” She ran her hand over the soft, luxurious cashmere sweater. It was far too nice for her.
“Stop dawdling,” Laura admonished. “We’ve got a lot to accomplish today and no time to spare. That, and I worked us in at the Elizabeth Arden Spa for later this afternoon.”
Millie’s eyes flew to the door. The Spa? Oh, God. She swallowed.
“You did?” Darcy asked. “How’d you swing that?”
“I helped out the manager last year with a charity event she put on. She owed me.”
Trying to put the afternoon’s spa punish—er, treatment, out of her mind, Millie put the sweater on and stepped out without a second glance in the mirror.
Darcy’s hands flew to her mouth, and Millie wanted the floor to open up and swallow her. Just as she thought. She looked ridiculous.
Darcy overcame her shock. “Shut the front door!”
Laura stepped back, examined her like she would a bug under a microscope, walking in a circle around her. “You’ve got girls!”
“I’ve got what?”
She rolled her eyes on a heavy sigh. “Boobs. Tatas. Breasts. You’ve got breasts. Who knew! But something’s missing. Wait here.”
“Oh, Millie,” Darcy said. “Shame on you.”
Millie could feel the sting of tears behind her eyes.
“For hiding that gorgeous body all this time.”
Millie’s gaze snapped to Darcy’s face. “What?”
“Look at you!” Darcy spun Millie around to face the mirror. “You rock!”
Millie examined the woman in the mirror and didn’t recognize her. The slim-fitting pants accentuated a narrow waist and skimmed over gently curving hips. The red sweater fit her torso and showed off her breasts, or her ‘girls,’ as Laura had called them. She ran her hands down her ribs and along her hips.
Reaching up, Darcy took the pins from her hair. “I’ve wanted to do this for forever.” She shook out Millie’s hair and tossed it around her shoulders. “Wow. Red is definitely your special sauce.”
“My special what?”
“You know, your color. It looks amazing on you.”
“Try these,” Laura said, as she shoved a pair of high-heeled ankle boots at her before really looking at her. “Whoa! Who knew you had so much beautiful hair?”
Millie eyed the shoes, which to her mind were sky high. “I can’t wear those. I’ll break my neck.”
“Pfft. Yes, you can. We’ll teach you. Now put them on,” Laura ordered with a wave of her hand.
Millie acquiesced and stood watching Laura and Darcy.
“Well don’t look at us, look at the mirror,” Laura said, indicating that she should turn around.
Feeling as if she’d go over like a felled tree any minute, Millie cautiously teetered on the heels as she turned toward the mirror.
She didn’t know what to say when she regarded her reflection.
“Boom!” Laura said.
Ian had made up his mind to meet Millie, to take back what he’d said. To apologize. He knew some groveling would be in order, and that was fine, too.
He’d been calling her the last two days but she wasn’t answering and didn’t have voice mail. Either she knew it was him calling and refused to answer, or she’d moved. He’d stand outside her apartment in the cold if that’s what it took, but he’d talk to her one way or another.
Thoughts of her were making it very difficult to leave. He’d begun to have second thoughts about a long-distance relationship being doomed from the start. Maybe it could work. But even if it didn’t, he wanted–no, he needed–to make amends.
For now, he grabbed his jacket, his backpack, and his keys to head over to meet with Josh about another surprise for Darcy.
After hours being buffed, polished, waxed, and scrubbed, her face exfoliated, steamed, and moisturized, and her hair slathered with goop, cut, color-rinsed, shampooed and blown out, Millie couldn’t imagine a more exhausting day. Whoever said the spa was relaxing needed therapy.
“That was wonderful,” Darcy said as they got dressed for the return trip home.
“Put on those black slacks, red sweater, and black ankle boots,” Laura instructed as she plundered through the bags of clothes they’d purchased. And not a single item in brown. “And don’t forget the red lace panties and bra.”
Millie had spent a fair portion of her nest egg today. Now she was second-guessing the extravagance. What had she been thinking? And really, what difference would it make in her life? She’d always be Mousey Millie, butt of jokes, despite her attempts at invisibility.
Laura and Darcy had instructed the spa staff not to let her see the final product, so when she stepped out of the dressing room, she had no idea what to expect, except to see the same old Mousey Millie but with new clothes. The collective gasp from Laura and Darcy said it all. She looked ridiculous. Like the clown the Mean Girls had called her in high school.
“Oh, Millie.” Darcy had tears in her eyes. “You look . . .”
Here it comes.
“Beautiful.”
“What?”
“What is it with you and mirrors? You a vampire or something? Turn around. See for yourself,” Laura instructed.
Millie stepped in front of the mirror. And couldn’t believe what she saw. Her hair shined like satin, and had been cut in long, soft layers, creating an ocean of mink waves around her. Her eyes appeared . . . big, warm, and luminous. And her mouth. Her lips gleamed with a reddish tint. She fairly glowed.
She thought she’d resemble a clown with all the makeup, instead she looked like herself, only way better. She could still see Millie underneath it all. Millie, but prettier.
She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Words couldn’t express what she felt at that moment.
“I know, girlfriend.” Darcy leaned in, hugged her shoulders. “I know.”
As Ian folded the drawings for a rocking chair—Josh’s baby present for Darcy and one of his last loose ends–the front door opened, and Josh and Nathan snapped to attention like they’d just been caught cheating on their wives.
“Josh? The victorious have returned,” Darcy called.
Josh nodded at Ian, and Ian tucked the drawings into his backpack.
Darcy rounded the corner, arms loaded with shopping bags, followed by Laura, the snarky one. Their men greeted them like they’d returned from a ten-day trip, rather than just a one-day shopping spree. Ian felt a tug of something akin to envy at the warm welcome.
“Ian? What are you doing here?” Darcy asked.
“Oh, estate stuff,” Josh muttered.
“I’m so sorry about Ruby,” Darcy continued. “You doing okay?”
“I’m getting there.”
“I didn’t think you were buyi
ng any more clothes until after the baby was born,” Josh said, eyeing the bags.
“Oh, these aren’t mine,” Darcy explained.
“Well then, whose are they?” Nathan asked in confusion.
Laura turned to the door. “Millie?”
Millie? Ian felt like he’d just been kicked in the teeth. He hadn’t expected to see her today.
There was a moment of silence, then a woman stepped into the doorway. And Ian almost swallowed his tongue.
Dressed in slim black pants, a red sweater that contrasted with rich chestnut brown hair flowing across her shoulders, and heels (heels!), Millie knocked his socks off. He knew, intimately, what a beautiful body she had, and a part of him liked being the only one who knew. But seeing her dressed in clothes that fit—clothes that weren’t brown, well, he was speechless. And the red sweater made her skin glow and her hair shine.
Nathan and Josh had a similar reaction, only they voiced theirs.
“Holy shit!” Josh exclaimed.
“Sweet Jesus,” Nathan muttered.
“I know, right?” Laura said, blowing on her nails and then polishing them against her jacket lapels. “My work here is done.”
“Amazing, huh?” Darcy said as she pulled Millie further into the room.
Ian noticed the blush in her cheeks, the way she chewed on her lower lip. Uncomfortable with the attention. And he wondered why she’d done it? Had Laura and Darcy talked her into it? Did she think she had to do it? Did she think that’s why he’d broken it off with her? The last thought triggered an ache in his chest. He hated the thought of Millie’s insecurities getting the better of her.
“You look fantastic, Millie. This calls for a toast,” Josh said as he headed toward the kitchen.
Nathan, Laura, and Darcy followed, leaving him alone with Millie. An awkward silence descended.
She gazed at him, clearly waiting for his reaction. If only he could untie the knot in his tongue to say something. Her hands went self-consciously to her hair, and doubt clouded her eyes before she cautiously turned to leave the room.
Dreams of Her Own Page 21