Reinventing Lindsey

by Maggie Brown

  After phone calls to shore up the appointments, she swung back in her chair to plan her course of action. She needed to snag an invitation to the Beauvoir, the most exclusive women’s club in the city. With a hefty joining fee and then a yearly subscription of ten thousand dollars, their exclusive membership was made up of wealthy women at the top of their fields, many of whom were gay. She had been taken there once, entirely blown away by the experience. Unfortunately, her date, Carmen, hadn’t impressed her nearly as much as the club had.

  Carmen was one of the country’s top models, a striking, slender woman with coal-black hair, large heavily fringed eyes, exotic high-slashing cheekbones and a dreadfully condescending attitude. One date with her had been enough for Daisy. As well as being annoyingly toffee-nosed, Carmen hadn’t had the wit to realize Daisy wasn’t interested in going to bed with her on the first date. She had declined an invitation to repeat dinner, which hadn’t been taken well by the supermodel. Carmen’s chagrin at the snub was fuelled she suspected, not so much as her desire for Daisy but rather that anyone could say no to her. However, since she was the only avenue she had to get Lindsey into the Beauvoir, she would have to eat humble pie.

  Although she didn’t intend to introduce Lindsey for at least three weeks, she figured it would be better to line it up now so she knew where she stood. Squaring her shoulders, she reached for the phone to invite Carmen for a drink. It would only be polite to ask the woman face-to-face for the favour, though she doubted she’d refuse considering how important Lindsey was.

  * * *

  Carmen, her long manicured fingers wrapped around the stem of a martini glass, was already perched on a barstool when Daisy entered the Hilton lounge. It was a pity, Daisy mused, that her personality didn’t match her appearance. The model looked all class. Her dress was tastefully elegant, and with it, she wore a single strand of pearls, earrings to match and a slim gold watch. All very discreet and exclusive. Her black hair was swept off her neck, secured with a gold clip that was probably worth as much as the Marigold’s monthly takings.

  Carmen raised her glass in welcome. “I was early, so I started without you. What will you have?”

  “A vodka and orange, thanks.”

  Once the bartender moved off with the order, Carmen skimmed her gaze over her slowly. “So, to what do I owe this honour? I thought you gave me the brush-off.”

  “It wasn’t like that,” said Daisy awkwardly. The woman had a knack of annoying her. She wished she’d tried another avenue to get into the damn club. “I told you we were very busy and I couldn’t find time to date.”

  “Hmmm, I think that was just an excuse not to see me again.”

  At the snarky tone, Daisy quickly slipped off the chair. “This isn’t going to work. I’m sorry I…”

  “No…no. Don’t go. I’m just annoyed you wouldn’t go out with me again. I like you Daisy…a lot. You know that.”

  Daisy made a vague gesture with her fingers. “I really am run off my feet with the business, Carmen. I made a conscious decision to put my personal life on hold until I get a handle on things.”

  “Then why did you ask me for a drink?”

  “Well…um…the fact is…I promised Lindsey, a very good friend of my aunt’s, that I would try to show her the Beauvoir Club. I’d be super grateful if we could come as your guests one night. Not immediately…perhaps next month if you could manage it.”

  “Lindsey?”

  “Lindsey Jamieson-Ford.”

  “The principal of LJF Robotics? My word girl, you are stepping up in the world. I’d be delighted to take her there.” Carmen ran a fingertip lightly down her arm and her mouth quirked into a seductive smile. “Just make sure you come too.”

  Daisy grimaced. Why wouldn’t the woman give it up? They didn’t suit each other at all; their tastes were definitely not compatible. Carmen was a glitz and glamour queen, while she was a down-to-earth pragmatist. Oil on water. “I’ll be there. Now drink up and I’ll shout the next round. I’ll get a plate of nibbles as well.”

  Surprisingly, the evening turned out much more pleasantly than she had anticipated. Carmen on her best behaviour was charming, with sly wit relating amusing anecdotes of the modelling industry. When they rose to go, they shared a hug goodbye. Daisy had to admit the scent of the delightful perfume swirling through her senses and the feel of a soft body was wonderful after months without the touch of a woman. As Daisy watched her sway away on her extra-high heels, she wondered idly if Lindsey would be interested in the model. She turned the key with a snap, cranky she’d even considered it. Carmen would eat the poor woman alive.

  Chapter Six

  Lindsey stared at the fourth page of the questionnaire. The first questions had been relatively straightforward: her childhood, her family home, what she had achieved in life. Without a qualm, she hadn’t mentioned her mother’s domination or the accident. Instead, she’d focused blandly on her father, their garden, her studies and her business. The happy memories.

  But this next page was far too personal, but too direct to gloss over. The sneaky matchmaker expected her to give in-depth details of her former relationships, including how she related to her parents. A total invasion of privacy. As much as she tried to ignore the questions, they brought back things she had tucked away in the darkest recesses of her mind. Years of therapy hadn’t entirely alleviated her shuddering nausea when she had to relive those times.

  Helpless against it, she pressed a fist to her forehead, riding out the roller coaster of fear that one day the world would see her as she was—unloved and unwanted by her mother, afraid of intimacy and half a woman. Who would want to love her then? With an effort, she took a deep breath and then another as she had been taught. The panic faded until she could again focus on the page. The pain turned into anger. Determinedly, she tore the offending sheet out of the file and methodically ripped it to pieces. Her past relationships weren’t up for discussion. They were none of Ms Nosy Parker’s business.

  When she flipped the second to last sheet over, she sighed with relief. Here was the question she wanted to answer and nothing too personal. What do you want in a partner?

  With bold strokes, she began to write in dot points.

  A mature woman between 34 and 42. (A little older wouldn’t matter though)

  Kind+ considerate of my work hours

  Some knowledge of electronics/mathematics or at least an academic

  Moderate drinker

  Good time management skills (always to be on time)

  Tidy

  A homebody

  Someone who eats nutritionally balanced meals (no fast food)

  Lindsey chewed the end of the pen as she reread the list, then moved “homebody” up higher. The last person she wanted was someone expecting a fabulous social life because she had money. With a final look, she nodded, satisfied. That would do for the time being. Tomorrow, after discussion with Daisy, she might think of something else. She turned to the last page. There was only one question: Why do you want a soulmate?

  She had to be honest here. It was a simple answer and the only reason she had forced herself to write to the matchmaking service.

  She wrote I’m lonely.

  * * *

  Lindsey paced around her office, with almost painful anticipation for Daisy to reappear. She had handed over her questionnaire as soon as their meeting had begun, but instead of waiting until she had left the estate to examine the contents as good manners dictated, Daisy had immediately disappeared without a by your leave to the side terrace to read it. Lindsey felt nervous. In the cold light of day when she reviewed what she’d written, she could see there were huge gaps in the whole thing. She hadn’t included anything remotely private or confidential. Little to reveal anything of substance.

  To ward off the jitters, she hit the intercom button to the kitchen. “Bring us morning tea in ten minutes, please Bernie.”

  “Will do. I baked muffins this morning.”

  When Daisy appeare
d five minutes later, instead of taking the chair at the desk, she made a beeline for the lounge chairs. “Come and sit over here with me, Lindsey. It’ll be more comfortable for a friendly chat. I don’t like too much formality.”

  With no excuse at hand, Lindsey reluctantly settled into a chair opposite. She knew perfectly well what Daisy was doing. By making her give up her seat of power behind the desk, they were now on a level playing field. She forced herself to rest backward with legs crossed. Daisy merely smiled, but the glint in her eye had Lindsey worried. She could sense beneath the friendly expression the woman was annoyed.

  “The flowers are pretty,” Daisy began. “I had no idea you had such a glorious garden around the side.”

  “I like gardening,” replied Lindsey warily. “It gets me out in the fresh air and I enjoy growing beautiful things.”

  “You’ve done a great job. Have you had the house long?”

  “About ten years.”

  A sharp knock caused Lindsey to jerk upright. Embarrassed, she sat down quickly when Bernice appeared at the door with a tray mobile.

  “Morning tea, ladies. Fresh blueberry muffins.”

  “That sounds divine,” exclaimed Daisy. “I’m glad I only had a cup of coffee before I left.”

  “You may go, Bernie. I’ll pour,” said Lindsey.

  “No…no, stay please Bernice, and have something with us,” said Daisy. “Sit next to me. I’d love to get to know you.”

  “That’s very kind of you, dear. It’ll be nice to have a chat. We don’t see many people.”

  Lindsey nearly snarled. The damn woman was interfering with her staff. When Bernice looked at her for confirmation, she could do nothing but nod pleasantly.

  “Have you been here long?” asked Daisy as she buttered the muffins.

  Bernice smiled. “I’ve been with Lindsey since she was born.”

  “Oh, my, you must love her very much to come with her when she bought her own home.”

  “She’s like my own child.”

  “And of course, she needed help after the accident,” Daisy added, then gave an appreciative groan when she bit into the muffin.

  “Yes,” said Bernice. “They were hard times until Lindsey could adjust. The loss of…”

  Lindsey quickly clattered her cup sharply onto the saucer. To her immense relief, Bernice stopped blabbering out her private business. It had been a close call.

  Lindsey glowered at Daisy. The hide of her—clearly, she had looked up old newspaper clippings and was fishing.

  “Oh dear, I am going on. Would you like some sugar?” Bernice continued, a little more subdued.

  “Yes please.” Daisy popped a heaped teaspoon into her cup. “I have a sweet tooth.”

  “Too much sugar in your diet increases the risk of type two diabetes, cardiovascular problems and hypertension,” muttered Lindsey.

  Daisy stirred vigorously. “Thank you for those pearls of wisdom, Lindsey. I’m sure Bernice serves great nutritionally balanced meals. Lucky you for having such a wonderful cook.”

  Bernice beamed. “Thank you, Daisy. I love my kitchen. Do you enjoy cooking?”

  “Like it—yes. Am I good at it—no,” said Daisy with a laugh. “I often resort to takeaways when I’m busy.”

  “Then you aren’t married, dear?”

  Lindsey leaned forward in her chair, keen to hear the answer as a blush pinked Daisy’s cheeks.

  “No. I’m single.”

  “Never mind. I’m sure a pretty girl like you won’t have any trouble finding a husband.”

  Daisy opened her mouth then closed it again. She merely nodded.

  Lindsey relaxed back smugly. So—Daisy hadn’t managed to find a partner for herself. How very satisfying to see the self-assured matchmaker off balance. Now she knows how it feels. They chattered on about herbs and recipes until Bernice rose to gather up the cups. “I’d better get back to work. It was lovely to meet you, Daisy.”

  “Oh, I’ll see you again. I’ll be in and out in the next few weeks working with Lindsey.”

  “You’re a company employee? I didn’t realize.”

  “A consultant. I’ll be helping here for a while.”

  As soon as they were alone, Daisy turned to eye Lindsey. “You haven’t told her, have you?”

  “No. And I expect you to be discreet. This business is solely between us, no one else.”

  “We maintain strict client confidentiality. Does she know you’re a lesbian?”

  “Yes. I told her when she came to live with me. She’s been very good to me and I didn’t want to keep something like that from her.”

  Daisy lifted a hand to toy with a curl. “Well at least that won’t come as a surprise. But you do realize don’t you, that when you have your makeover, she’s going to get a shock?”

  Lindsey stared at her, alarmed. “What makeover?”

  “The one starting tomorrow. I’ve made an appointment at eleven thirty for the Boris Salon’s top hairdresser to style your hair.”

  “I didn’t agree to that.”

  “If you want help, Lindsey, then please do what I ask. I really would like you to be reasonable about what I suggest. I have a lot of experience and a great success rate. I had to go ahead and make the appointment…he’s hard to get into. I only snagged the appointment because there was a cancellation, but I can change it if it doesn’t suit.”

  “I suppose the time is okay if you insist that I must have a haircut. Is it the only thing I have to endure?”

  “Good heavens, no,” exclaimed Daisy with a look that dared her to argue. “You’re going to have a new wardrobe, new makeup and after the fashion statement is complete, the tuition will begin.”

  Lindsey bristled, prepared for battle. The moment had all the makings of a High Noon, but Daisy defused the situation adroitly by saying with a soft pleading voice, “I really would appreciate if you’d cooperate. I do this with all my clients. It’s amazing how much confidence a makeover can give.”

  “Oh, all right. If I must, I must. How long will this business take?”

  “I know you’re a busy woman, so if we want to do the preliminary work quickly, then I suggest we meet every day until you’re comfortable about going out socially. I’m putting myself at your disposal.”

  “I’m prepared to put my work aside for the time being too.” Lindsey’s gaze latched onto the folder poking out of Daisy’s carry-bag. Curiosity got the better of her. “You haven’t mentioned my questionnaire. Aren’t we going to go through it together?”

  Daisy gave an enigmatic half smile. “No.”

  “Oh? Then why did I have to fill it out?”

  “I wanted to know about you.”

  “Well, some things are private. There weren’t any lurid details you obviously wanted to hear,” remarked Lindsey testily.

  “On the contrary, it told me a lot. Now I do have a question that I really want you to answer.”

  “It’s obviously not on the questionnaire.”

  “No. This is about your preference. It’s nothing too explicit, but I need to know when I introduce you around.”

  “Go ahead then.”

  Daisy leaned over and took her right hand. “What kind of woman are you attracted to?”

  At the feel of the touch, Lindsey’s muscles tightened. As subtly as she could, she eased her fingers from Daisy’s grasp. Then she blinked to focus on the question. “What kind of woman? Didn’t I put that in my profile?”

  “No, this is your sexual preference. What kind turns you on? An athlete? Butch? Femme? Political? In the closet, or out and proud? Do you want to be the boss in a relationship? Who is in your fantasies?”

  Lindsey’s jaw sagged, and heat blossomed into her cheeks. “I…I don’t really have a preference. Um…no…wait. That’s not strictly true. I like women who are on the feminine side…with curves.” She fluttered her gaze over Daisy’s torso and down her legs. “You know…your type of body…with nice breasts and hips. Older though.”

  Dai
sy gave a wry smile. “Oh, me when I’m grown up.”

  “Yes, but,” she added more firmly, “I’m also attracted to the mind, if you know what I mean. I’ll never be happy with someone who is vacuous or ditzy.”

  “I know exactly what you mean there. Do you prefer to wear dresses or pants?”

  “I prefer pants, though I don’t mind my suits with skirts or a simple-cut evening dress. I detest anything frilly.”

  “Good. That will be enough for today.” Daisy handed her a slip of paper. “Here’s the hair stylist’s address. Will that time suit you?”

  “That’ll be fine.”

  “Great. Do you want me to pick you up?”

  “No. I’ll drive in. I employ a chauffeur. Joe also keeps the maintenance on the house in order.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow then. There’s one last thing before I go, Lindsey. I want you to give me a hug.”

  Lindsey froze, unable to think of a way out. She hadn’t touched anyone but Trisha intimately for years. With a swallow, she edged forward and gave her a tentative squeeze. Before she could get away, Daisy pulled her closer until they were pressed together. After a last firm clasp, she murmured, “There. That wasn’t so bad, was it? You’re going to have to get used to touching people, Lindsey, if you want a wife.”

  Chapter Seven

  The tension in Daisy’s shoulders finally unknotted after she shut the door of her office. She rubbed her temples to relieve the headache behind her eyes. Talk about a difficult morning—understanding Lindsey was like peeling an extra-layered onion. The questionnaire made it clear the woman had some serious hang-ups. She had written only what she wanted Daisy to hear, a romantic version of an ideal childhood.

  While her father was portrayed as a loving parent, only one passing comment had been made of the mother. From all accounts she was still with her husband, which meant Lindsey had a big problem with her. She was probably a mother from hell, though Daisy would have to reserve that opinion until she could find out more. The accident too was ignored, which must have been a pivotal point in her life. It was after it that Lindsey disappeared from press clippings. Even though for the last five years she’d made the Forbes’ ten top Australian entrepreneurial scientists, there were no interviews recorded. And Bernice had said “the loss of.” What did she lose? She seemed to have all her parts working. Maybe it was internal, like her spleen or a kidney. Or maybe it was someone dear to her.