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
