Chapter Two
The moment the door closed behind the lawyer, Lynn demanded of her friend, “Why did you tell him where to find me?”
“Why not? He just wants to get up to speed about Jenny.”
“Well, I know, but…”
“But what?” There was a very suspicious gleam in Danielle’s eyes. “Are you scared of him, or something?”
“Of course not.”
“Well, I have to say, sparks certainly seemed to be flying between you two.”
“They were not. Not in the least. A man like that is never going to look twice at someone like me.”
“There you go. Underestimating yourself again.”
“I am not. I’m just stating a fact. And I’m not looking twice at him, either. He’s—” She cut herself off as she realized that Sara was standing right there, taking all this in. “Never mind. I just…well, I told him all there is to tell. You heard me.”
“Oh, come on. Let him do his job. He seems…very conscientious. And after Wendell Hargrove, Jenny deserves a lawyer who’s looking out for her interests instead of robbing her blind.”
Sara was still staring up at them. “Mommy. Jenny’s not blind. She can see just fine.”
Danielle smoothed her daughter’s unruly bangs back from her forehead. “It’s just an expression, honey. Jenny had a bad lawyer who took some of her money. But now that bad lawyer’s gone to jail.”
“And that man who just left, he’s a lawyer, too?”
“That’s right. He’s Jenny’s new lawyer.”
“Is he a good lawyer?”
“Yes. I’m sure he is.”
“What’s a lawyer, anyway? And how come, if Jenny’s got one, I don’t?”
Danielle glanced at the clock. “We’ll have to talk about that later. Right now, we need to get going.”
To the Whitehorn Salon, Lynn thought with a considerable degree of dread. “Danielle, I don’t know about this…”
“I do. Did you bring the red dress?”
“Danielle. I really don’t think—”
“Come on. Just answer me. Did you bring the dress?”
Lynn was a little embarrassed about that dress. She’d bought it on a shopping trip to Billings just two weeks before, a shopping trip where she’d intended only to replace a few of the practical skirts and blouses that were now three sizes too large. She hadn’t meant to buy a dress like that. It had cost too much and it wasn’t the kind of thing she’d ever actually wear, anyway.
“Lynn. The dress? Did you bring it?”
“Yes. I brought it.”
“And those red shoes, too?”
Lynn huffed out a breath. The shoes had two-inch heels. Lynn was five-nine in stocking feet. She always wore flats. What in the world had possessed her to buy a pair shoes that would only make her look even taller?
“The shoes, Lynn?” Danielle asked for the second time with clearly diminishing patience.
“Yes, all right, I brought the shoes, too.”
“Good. Get ’em and let’s go. You can ride with me and Sara.”
“I can take my own—”
Danielle grunted. “No way. You’ve got that rabbity look around the eyes. You might just drive on home instead of where I’m taking you.”
“Danielle…”
“Stop arguing. You’re coming with us and you can pick up your Blazer later.”
“But Danielle. To the beauty salon?”
“Yes. To the beauty salon. You’ve lost, what? Twenty-five pounds?”
“Twenty-eight.”
“You should be proud of yourself.”
“I am proud of myself.”
“Good. Because you look great. And for your birthday, I intend to make sure we put the finishing touches on your transformation.”
“I just don’t know about this.”
“Get that dress and those shoes and let’s go.”
Lynn was still trying to protest when Danielle pushed her into the padded stylist’s chair and the salon’s owner, Gracie Donahue, whisked a big purple hairdresser’s cape around her neck.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this. This is all just too much….”
“It is not,” said Gracie’s daughter, Kim, with whom Lynn had gone to school—and who was now in town on a visit from San Francisco, where she worked in a very exclusive salon. “I’m in on this, too. And I am the best at what I do. You’re going to look fabulous when we’re through. All the cowboys for miles around will fall in love with you.”
Lynn stared at her own reflection in the mirror. No one to fall in love with there. True, her clean-scrubbed face was slimmer than it used to be. She actually had cheekbones now. But she still looked as ordinary as a loaf of white bread. Also, right at the moment, her brow was furrowed and her mouth all pinched up. “Oh, I don’t like this….” It came out on a whimper.
Kim laughed. “Wait till we’re finished. First, a deep-pore cleansing. Then the mud mask. Manicure. And pedicure. The hair, of course—and full makeup, once your pores have had a chance to settle down from the cleansing and the mask.”
That didn’t sound particularly comforting. “My pores have to settle down?”
“Yes. And they will. We have plenty of time. You’ll walk out of here a new woman.”
“I’m just fine the way I am.” She wished she sounded more convincing.
“Of course you are. But there’s always room for improvement.”
“It’s too much….”
Kim gave a delicate snort. “You already said that.”
Lynn caught Danielle’s eye in the mirror. “You know you can’t afford all this.” Danielle was a single mom on a limited budget. “It will be far too expensive.”
Gracie put her plump hands on Lynn’s shoulders. “Listen.” Lynn stiffened. Gracie’s warm fingers pressed a little more firmly. “I mean it.”
Sara piped up then. “Miss Taylor, you have to sit still if you want to get your surprise. You have to let them make you beautiful, just like Cinderella. Remember? When her fairy godmother came and got out her magic wand and sang the ‘Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo’ song and Cinderella’s hair got so pretty and her raggedy dress turned into a magic ball gown and the little mouses turned into horses and the big pumpkin turned into—”
“Honey.” Danielle shook her head.
Sara put her hand over her mouth. “Oops.”
Gracie said, “There are some coloring books in the cabinet under the table in the waiting area. Maybe Sara would have some fun with them?”
“Coloring books?” Sara asked with interest.
Danielle shot her friend a reassuring smile. “Relax.” Then she took her daughter’s hand. “Let’s go check them out.”
Danielle led her daughter away and Gracie faced Lynn in the mirror once more. “Now. Are you listening?”
“Yes, but—”
“Hush. Are you listening?”
Lynn gulped and nodded.
Gracie said, “I’ve lived in Whitehorn all my life.”
“Well, Gracie, I know that.”
“And I went to school with you,” Kim added.
Lynn felt defensive. “What are you getting at?”
“The truth,” said Gracie. “That’s what you get from your hairdresser, if you’re lucky. A decent cut and a little honesty. We’ve all watched you over the years, so quiet and unassuming and sweet, letting that Jewel and her two spoiled darlings run right over you.”
Lynn’s defensiveness increased. “Please don’t speak ill of my family.”
Gracie tightened her grip on Lynn’s shoulders again. “I’m not speaking ill of them. I’m only speaking the truth. I know you love them. And I’m sure they love you. In their own selfish ways. And that’s great. That’s fine. But the truth is, you’ve never allowed yourself to shine, now, have you?”
“I don’t really see how—”
“How much weight have you lost in the past six months?” Grace demanded.
Lynn gulped again. “It really hasn
’t been in the past six months. It’s been longer.” Since her father had died two years before, actually. Because she’d been so sad, and not felt much like eating. And then later, as her grief had faded, the calorie-laden junk foods she had once craved no longer held such strong appeal. “It’s just…taken everyone a while to notice, I guess.”
“Well, however long it’s taken, you are lookin’ good. And after today, you’re going to look even better. And you don’t have to worry about Danielle’s pocketbook, because Kimmy and I are going in on this birthday present, too. Understand?”
“But—”
“Understand?”
Lynn gulped again.
Gracie and Kim looked at her sternly.
And then, in the mirror, she watched a smile tremble across her own mouth.
Why, she thought, I want this. I truly do. I’m ready for this. It’s my twenty-fourth birthday, and Gracie Donahue is right. It’s about time I let myself shine.
Danielle appeared in the mirror again, on Gracie’s right side. Lynn looked from Kim to Gracie—and to her friend last of all. Danielle winked at her.
Lynn sucked in a long breath. “Okay. Wave that magic wand.”
Gracie squeezed her shoulders one more time and then let go.
“And thank you.”
The three behind her chair chorused, “You’re welcome,” in unison.
“And…well, I’m still pretty nervous.”
“It’s all right,” said Gracie. “Be nervous. But stay put until we’re done with you.”
It took over an hour just for the facial. Then they started on her hair: a foil wrap first. Then they did her nails, both manicure and pedicure, as promised. Several other customers came in during the process. Lynn knew most of them. They smiled and greeted her, and didn’t seem at all surprised that plain Lynn Taylor had suddenly decided to spend a whole afternoon being primped and pampered.
Lynn had a nice little nap under her mud mask. And then she sat under the dryer with the coloring goo and bits of foil stuck in her hair and read a magazine from front to back. She went to the back room briefly, to remove her panty hose, then stretched out in the stylist’s chair while Gracie filed and painted her nails, top and bottom. Once her nails were dry, she made another quick trip to the back room, to put her stockings and her shoes on again.
When she emerged, Gracie led her to the chair once more. Lynn settled in with a contented sigh, wondering why she’d never given herself permission to do this before. Even if the makeover didn’t “take,” she thought with a secret smile, she might do this again just for the sheer relaxing enjoyment of having other women tend to her. It was so soothing, so leisurely, lying there with her eyes closed, hearing their laughter as they talked and joked about their jobs and their men, as they discussed their children and their dreams for them. The gentle, firm touch of skillful hands took all her cares away as they massaged in the mud mask, twisted her hair into the bits of foil—and later, rubbed shampoo into her scalp, then fluttered around her head, snipping away at the freshly highlighted strands.
Finally Kim turned her so that she couldn’t see the mirror. “Don’t look again until I’m finished.”
Kim went to work with a blow dryer and a styling brush. When Lynn’s hair was styled to her satisfaction, she slid an elastic band around Lynn’s head, to keep the hair out of the way. Then, with light, deft strokes, she applied the makeup that Gracie and Danielle, hovering near, declared brought out those newly discovered cheekbones of hers and made her lashes seem longer, her eyes a much deeper blue.
Even little Sara had been allowed to come near again by then. “You look so beautiful, Miss Taylor,” she said, sighing. “Just like I said. Like Cinderella. All you need is your ball gown and your glass slippers. And your prince. You’re really going to need a prince. He can take you to the ball and you can dance until midnight—when both hands are on the twelve. And then, when midnight comes and your horses are just about ready to turn into mouses again, you can run down the palace steps so fast that one of your glass slippers will fall off and the prince will have a way to find you later, when—”
“Sara,” said Danielle tenderly. She gave her daughter the zip-up-your-lip signal and the child subsided.
Finally Kim took the headband away and removed the hairdresser’s cape. She brushed Lynn’s hair back into place, spritzed on a light mist of holding spray. Then she dabbed perfume along the curve of her neck and at each wrist.
“What is that?” Lynn asked, sniffing.
“Poison.”
“What?”
Kim chuckled. “This perfume is called Poison. Deadly name, killer scent.”
Lynn sniffed again. “It is nice.”
“Would I steer you wrong?”
“Don’t look yet,” Danielle commanded when Kim set the amethyst-colored bottle of scent aside.
Kim showed Lynn a diagram—a drawing of a woman’s face, marked in the places where foundation, blusher, eye and lip color should be applied. She also offered a small box of makeup samples. “These are the products I think you should use. I’ve done you for evening. For daytime, just tone down the blusher, go light on foundation and skip the shimmery eye shadow. Go with that subtle blue-gray.”
Lynn murmured her thanks and tried to turn toward the mirror.
Danielle grabbed the arm of the chair. “Not yet.” She held out Lynn’s brown shoulder bag. “Put that stuff away first, so you won’t forget it.”
So Lynn put the diagram and the box of samples into her purse. “Now may I see?”
“Soon.” Danielle produced a red scarf.
Lynn raised a skeptical eyebrow at that scarf. “This is getting very silly.”
“Indulge us.” Danielle tied the scarf over Lynn’s eyes—carefully, in order not to muss her makeup or her hair. “Now come on. Give me your hand.”
Lynn felt Danielle’s fingers close around hers.
“Step clear of the footrest,” Danielle instructed. “Good. Now, come this way….”
Lynn knew where Danielle was leading her—to the small back room, where her red dress and red shoes were waiting. She followed obediently, trusting the clasp of her friend’s soft hand.
When they reached their destination, Danielle said, “Wait right here.” She released Lynn’s hand. Lynn heard the door close. Then Danielle returned to her. She helped Lynn remove her cardigan sweater, her blouse and her wool skirt.
“I’m feeling really pampered about now,” Lynn said as Danielle pulled the kitten-soft cashmere sweater dress over her head.
Danielle gave a low, musical laugh. “That’s the point.”
“I’m sure glad you came to Whitehorn.”
“I kind of like the place myself.”
Danielle had moved to town two years before, right around the time Lynn’s father had died. Lynn had met her at the Whitehorn library, where Danielle had found a twenty-hour-a-week job right away. They’d liked each other on sight. The friendship had just seemed to happen, so naturally.
And they’d grown even closer the past two months, with Sara in Lynn’s class and Danielle taking on the job of Room Mom. Danielle often came in during class time to help out with special projects. She also tended to linger after school when she came to pick up Sara, helping Lynn with her room displays, with restocking art supplies and planning class events.
“I don’t want you ever to move away,” Lynn said softly.
“Don’t worry. I don’t intend to.” Danielle’s voice sounded brisk, but Lynn didn’t miss the undertone of sadness.
Her friend was thinking about her husband, probably—the husband who had never been to Whitehorn, at least not as far as Lynn knew.
Danielle was now seeking a divorce. She was always vague about the details, would only say that it hadn’t worked out. But Lynn sensed her friend still loved the man. From the few things Danielle had said about him, Lynn knew that once Danielle had been a very happily married woman. A woman deeply in love.
What would that be
like? Lynn wondered as Danielle gently pushed her down onto the small cot in the corner and knelt at her feet, to slide off her brown flats and slip on the red shoes.
What would that be like?
To fall, as the saying went, truly, madly, deeply in love? Would it be worth the price, if a woman ended up like Danielle, starting over in another town, without the man she loved so much at her side?
Lynn reached out. Her hand touched Danielle’s silky hair. Within the darkness of the blindfold, Lynn pictured Danielle’s face, looking up at her, hazel eyes bright.
“A good friend. The best,” Lynn whispered.
And Danielle whispered back, “You get what you give.”
You get what you give. True words. But not absolute. Knowing Danielle, Lynn couldn’t imagine she’d ever given her husband a moment’s heartache. And yet, clearly, heartache had been his ultimate gift to her.
Maybe it was better to be like Lynn. Still a virgin on her twenty-fourth birthday. With no prospects of “truly, madly, deeply” anywhere in sight.
Then again, Danielle did have Sara. The adorable little chatterbox must go a long way toward making up for the heartache.
“Ready to see your new look?” Danielle asked. All traces of sadness had vanished from her voice. Now she sounded excited, anticipatory.
“I hope it’s just half as good as you’re acting like it is.”
“Only one way to find out.”
Lynn felt a sort of shimmer go through her body. A shimmer of anxiety—and of giddy expectancy. She held out her hand to be led back to the main room of the salon.
There was a full-length mirror on the wall opposite the door to the street. Danielle made Lynn wait, still blindfolded, while Gracie moved a potted fern out of the way.
Then, at last, Danielle untied the scarf, whipping it off with a magician’s dramatic flourish. “Voilà!”
Everyone, including little Sara, began clapping and squealing.
“Do you love it?”
“Isn’t it perfect?”
“You look incredible.”
“Miss Taylor, you are so pretty!”
Lynn could only stare.
It was…magic. Real-life magic.
She didn’t look like some glamorous, over-made-up stranger, as she had secretly feared that she might. She looked…exactly like herself.
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