Hostile Makeover

by Wendy Wax

“Shelley? Are you all right?” It was Trey, lovely Trey, whom she did NOT have time for.

  “I would be if my phone would stop ringing.”

  “Oh.”

  “I didn’t mean you,” she said, apologizing. “It’s just that I have all this work piled up and the phone is driving me crazy.”

  “Why don’t I come take you away from all that? Do you want to do lunch at Hidalgo’s?”

  She was tempted, really tempted. But she wanted to get her To Do list down, and reach the party planner for Tire World’s grand opening, and . . . well, that was the point, wasn’t it? She had too much to do to break for lunch.

  “I wish I could, Trey, but I am not budging from this desk until each item on this list in front of me has been marked off.”

  “I’m thinking I may have called the wrong Shelley Schwartz. Is this . . .” He recited her number but she couldn’t tell from his tone if he was really amused or not.

  “I’m sorry, Trey,” she said, meaning it. “I’m just swamped today. How about later in the week?”

  “OK.”

  Trey hung up and Shelley asked Sandra to hold her calls. Then she started at the top of her To Do list and began to work her way methodically through it. When she got to the Tire World grand opening, she called Sandra for the number of the party planner the agency normally used.

  “Oh, hi, Ms. Schwartz,” the woman’s assistant answered. “No, I’m sorry, Lacy’s on a huge project for the next couple of months. She’s not taking anything else on.”

  “Can you suggest someone else?”

  The woman kept her on the line while she flipped through her Rolodex. “Sorry, but I have notes next to everyone’s name; they’re all booked. It’s a really busy season.”

  Well, shit. Shelley hung up and thought about the grand opening. She was absolutely determined that it would be unique, and effective. She wanted to knock Wiley Haynes’s socks off.

  Unfortunately, despite Ross Morgan’s assumption, parties were not her forte. Attending them, maybe. Planning them? No, that was definitely not her thing.

  Shelley leaned way back in her chair and stared up at the ceiling, searching for answers in the shiny black plaster.

  Judy, now, that was another story. Judy could outplan the best of them. There was no detail too small to interest her. And she wasn’t afraid to do something different—as she’d proved with Jason’s Roman Gladiator bar mitzvah. And what did Judy have to do with her time besides run her sons around and . . . bake?

  Shelley didn’t give herself time to think it out any further. Despite Ross Morgan’s opinion, sometimes those gut reactions were the truest. She picked up the phone and dialed it, waiting impatiently for her sister to pick up.

  Judy was baking again. She didn’t want to be baking, but Craig was at work, the boys were in school, and her tennis match had been canceled. She didn’t even have a volunteer shift on the calendar. It would be four and a half hours until Sammy got off the bus.

  Her hands and kitchen counters were covered in flour, and warm wonderful smells emanated from her oven. The only problem was what she’d do with the chocolate banana cakes when they were finished. Both the freezer in the house and the one in the garage were jammed full, her friends and family had forbidden her to bring them any more baked goods, and the neighbors had begun to run when they saw her with anything in her hands. Even the staff at Summitt Towers blanched when they saw her coming.

  The phone rang, startling her out of her thoughts, and she ran her hands under the faucet, hurriedly dried them, and scooped it up. “Hello?”

  “Judy?” Her sister’s voice cut through the silent room. “What are you doing?”

  Judy’s gaze swung around the kitchen, taking in the floured granite countertops, the cabinets left open, the mixing bowls and blender waiting to be washed. She knew better than to admit to Shelley that she’d been baking. Her sister viewed her . . . hobby . . . as if it were some dangerous addiction.

  “Not too much.” Once she’d cleaned up she’d go work out, pick up the dry cleaning, get a few things at the grocery store. She was doing a whole lot of nothing, just like she did every day.

  “I’ve got a problem. A sort of emergency.”

  “And?”

  “And I need you to do something for me. And, um, for the agency.”

  Judy stopped thinking about her errands and her kitchen. Surely she’d heard wrong. “Me?”

  “Yep. I don’t have time to explain all the details, but I have to plan a grand opening and the party planner we normally use isn’t available.”

  “So . . .”

  “So I’m wondering if you’d take over the grand opening.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you.”

  “But I don’t have any idea how to do something like that.”

  “Don’t be silly. You give great parties and you can get anybody to do anything. People are still talking about the lion in the cage and the rabbi wearing that toga.”

  “But I don’t plan parties. I hire people to plan parties.”

  “But the ideas are all yours. You’ll just be cutting out the middleman. You’re a natural-born organizer, and, well, I really need this event to be a success.”

  The timer on the oven went off but Judy ignored it. “No, Shelley, this is crazy, I—”

  “Are you telling me you’re too busy?”

  Judy looked around her kitchen once more. She thought about the empty day stretching ahead of her. “Well, no, not exactly.”

  “Or that you’re not interested in helping your poor overwhelmed sister or the agency your father founded??”

  Judy snorted. “I think you’d better leave the guilt to Mom.”

  “Too much, huh?”

  “No, not enough! Mom would have found a way to work in Myra’s cancer.”

  “I’m saving my creativity for the job. But I need you, Judy. Come into the office tomorrow morning and I’ll fill you in.”

  “Well . . .”

  “Don’t make me beg. My voice gets all whiny and it’s too embarrassing.”

  “I don’t know, Shel. I’m just not sure.”

  “I’m going to take that as a yes. I’ll see you here at ten A.M. tomorrow, dressed for work. If I’m going to put you on the payroll, you’re going to have to act like a professional.”

  “The payroll? Shelley, I don’t—”

  “Thanks, Judy. You’re a lifesaver. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  With the dial tone humming in her ear, Judy hung up the phone. Her kitchen was trashed, smoke was pouring out of her oven, and the clothes dryer was buzzing insistently, but she felt oddly excited. She knew now what she’d be doing for the rest of the afternoon and where she’d be headed in the morning.

  Moving quickly, she pulled the ruined cakes from the oven and shoved them down the garbage disposal, then opened windows to get rid of the burnt smell. She caught herself humming as she rushed around putting the kitchen to rights.

  Thirty minutes later she was showered and dressed and pointing her car toward the nearest mall. If she was going to look like a career woman tomorrow, she was going to have to go shopping.

  chapter 14

  Wow, great outfit.” Shelley came out from behind her desk to greet Judy, who stood in the office doorway wearing low-slung black slacks and a pale pink Donna Karan shell and cardigan set that Shelley had barely resisted at Bloomingdale’s earlier that month. Judy’s short dark hair was perfectly tousled, and she wore oversized silver dream-catcher earrings and a chunky bracelet shot through with black and pink. “Those earrings are fabulous.”

  “Thanks.” Judy smiled and her lips, which were painted a matching pink, parted to reveal even white teeth. She looked bright, competent, and professional, and she hadn’t had to dress like a strong-willed movie heroine to do it. Shelley looked down at the white linen pantsuit that had felt so “Bogie and Bacall” when she’d put it on and now felt so . . . wrinkled. If she’d thought her sister might look like a fish out of w
ater in an office environment, she’d been mistaken.

  After a quick hug, Shelley led Judy to the chair across from her desk. Her older sister’s brown eyes sparkled with something Shelley hadn’t seen there in a long time, and although she’d squared her shoulders and folded her hands in her lap, Judy’s body practically vibrated with excitement.

  “Thanks so much for coming in,” Shelley said.

  “No problem.” Judy’s nod sent the earrings bobbing. She fingered the bracelet at her wrist. “You mentioned a grand opening, but you didn’t say for whom.”

  “It’s Tahr”—Shelley rolled her eyes—“I mean Tire World. They’re opening a new location and we’re going to turn it into a major event.”

  “Tire as in the round rubber things that go on a car?”

  Shelley nodded.

  “You mean those round black things that I don’t know anything about?”

  Shelley nodded again.

  “But I’ve never even kicked one, let alone picked one out or bought one.” Judy sat forward. A worried frown pursed her lips. “We trade in our cars every two years. I’m pretty sure they come with tires already attached.”

  “Fortunately, you don’t need an intimate understanding of the product to pull off a party,” Shelley reasoned. “I mean, how much of Jason’s Torah portion did you understand when you planned his bar mitzvah?”

  “Good point.” Judy nodded in relief.

  “And something else we’re going to promote is ‘How To’ workshops for women. We’re not the only ones who’ve never kicked a tire.”

  “Are you sure about this?” Judy dropped her gaze. “I mean, are you sure you want me here?”

  “Absolutely.” Shelley stood and waited for Judy to do the same. “Come on.” She slid an arm around her older sister’s waist, surprised to be the one offering reassurance. “Let’s go get you settled in. There’s an empty office around the corner I thought you could use.”

  “An office?” Judy stopped moving.

  “Unless you’d rather work from home.” As far as Shelley was concerned, Judy could work from the bathtub as long as she got the job done.

  “No, no, an office is fine,” Judy said. “It’s just that—” She laughed self-consciously. “I’ve never had an office before.”

  Whereas Shelley had always had one but only recently begun to use it. “It’s actually more like a cubicle,” she explained. “You know, just a desk and a phone—”

  “Oh, I don’t care what’s in it. I mean, I’m not planning to pick out wall coverings for it or anything.” Judy laughed, then paused. “Am I?”

  “No,” Shelley promised, “no wall coverings. No decorating. Just a convenient spot to get things going from.”

  There was a brisk rap on the door and the sisters turned to see Ross Morgan in the doorway.

  Suddenly reminded of the discrepancy in their sizes, Shelley took an automatic step away from Judy. Ross crossed the room toward them, and she cringed inwardly at what he must be seeing—the Jolly Green Giant towering over Career Barbie.

  “You remember Ross Morgan, don’t you, Jude?” Shelley said as he neared them.

  “Hi.” Ross and Judy reached forward at the same time and Shelley watched her sister’s hand disappear inside Morgan’s.

  He turned to Shelley. “I just wanted to check and see where we were with the Simms and Mendelsohn proposals.”

  “I’ve already met with Creative,” Shelley said. “I should be ready to report back by the end of the week.”

  “Mendelsohn as in Uncle Abe?” Judy asked.

  “The very one,” Shelley replied.

  “If it’s not a bargain, he’s not interested,” Judy said.

  “Tell me about it.” Ross’s tone was dry.

  “Hey,” Shelley said, turning to her sister, “say that again.”

  “What?”

  Shelley tuned out Ross Morgan and her fear of looking foolish in front of him. “The ‘If it’s not a bargain’ thing.”

  Judy complied.

  “What do you think of ‘If it’s not a bargain, I’m not interested. And neither are you.’ ”

  Judy and Ross were both watching her closely.

  “When I met with Luke, we agreed that the biggest difference between Mendelsohn TV and the chains is Abe. As much as we’ve been trying to get Brian Simms off the air, I really feel we need to put Abe on television. And in newspaper ads. And on the radio. Because he’s a great old Jewish-grandfather type who’s only going to buy at a discount and pass that savings on to his customers.”

  Ross stared at her as if he’d never seen her before. Judy nodded enthusiastically. “He’s a total character, but he inspires trust at the same time.”

  “Yeah. Luke thinks we should do everything in black-and-white, go completely antislick and old-fashioned so that we’re countering the chains in every way.”

  Judy shot Shelley an admiring glance. “I don’t know much about advertising, but that sounds really good to me.”

  “It has . . . possibilities.” Ross studied her more closely and she had the sense that she’d somehow popped out of the box he’d put her in. The big question was how hard he’d try to stuff her back inside. “But since there’s every chance we won’t be making a nickel off those commercials, let’s not get too carried away, hmm?”

  Shelley bristled as he considered the two of them then checked his watch. “Isn’t it a little early to be going out to lunch?”

  “Lunch?” Shelley realized with a start of surprise that she’d never mentioned her intention to hire Judy. Uh-oh. “No, uh, actually, Judy’s here to help plan the Tire World grand opening party. I was just going to find her a place to work.”

  One lone, blond eyebrow sketched upward and she felt herself go on the defensive.

  “Our, uh, regular party planners weren’t available.” She saw Judy’s face fall and felt an unfamiliar surge of protectiveness. “Judy’s absolutely first-rate at putting on parties. Why, she’s famous all over the northeastern suburbs for her Roman Gladiator–themed bar mitzvah.”

  “But this isn’t a bar mitzvah.”

  “Same basic concept,” Shelley said, wanting to end this conversation before any damage was done. “Without the chopped liver and Middle Eastern folk dancing.”

  “I know Wiley Haynes would be thrilled to hear that,” Ross said.

  “Jude.” Shelley turned her sister around and gave her a gentle push toward the door. “Why don’t you wait for me outside? I need to explain a few things to Ross.”

  Judy went, and Shelley rounded on the man in front of her. “You know,” she bit out, “I’ve gotten kind of used to you attacking my competency. I don’t particularly like it, but I’ve come to expect it. But you don’t have to bring my sister into it.”

  “I’m not the one who brought your sister into it. You can’t just put family members on the payroll without checking first, Shelley, especially family members without experience.” He skewered her with a look. “Despite the precedent that’s already been set.”

  She took that one in the gut, but kept silent. She was afraid that if she opened her mouth, she’d quit. Which was exactly what Ross was angling for.

  “In the future, all budget expenditures, including hiring staff—related or otherwise—are to be approved by me. In advance.”

  She kept her chin up and held her position until he turned to leave. Gritting her teeth, she fell in behind him and joined her sister in the hallway. Together they watched him walk away. He was arrogant and irritating and had the ability to yank her chain without even trying.

  He also had broad shoulders, a tapered torso, and an incredibly firm rear end. When he’d rounded the corner they turned back to each other.

  “That is one of the finest tushes I’ve ever seen.” Judy let out an exaggerated sigh.

  “I guess.” Shelley slung an arm around Judy’s shoulder, glad Ross Morgan’s tirade hadn’t robbed her sister of her sense of humor. “I won’t tell your husband you were ogling an
other man’s buns if you don’t tell Uncle Abe I called him an old Jewish grandfather.”

  “All right,” Judy agreed as they left to go find her cubicle. “But I wasn’t the only one ogling that rear end.” She shook her head. “And to think I used to scoff when my trainer talked about buns of steel.”

  It was close to three o’clock when Judy checked her watch. After Shelley had introduced her around, she’d spent the hours reading up on Wiley Haynes and his Tire World, looking at the print ads the agency had been running, and trying to get a handle on how one might throw a party at a tire store that anyone would actually want to attend.

  The biggest problem, she knew, was that she kept trying to picture her friends and family gathering around—well, she didn’t even know what one would gather around at a tire store. Her imagination sputtered to a complete stop when she tried to picture what Mandy Mifkin, Bar Mitzvah Coordinator Extraordinaire, might do with this assignment; she just didn’t know where to start.

  Finally, she began making lists of the things that she knew were germane to all parties, tire-themed or otherwise. The biggies, of course, were food and entertainment. And you’d probably have to give something away to get people to come there.

  In her own circle, a spa certificate or a lunch at a favored restaurant would qualify for giveaway status, but what did people who bought tires want? Tickets to a wrestling match? Raw hamburger meat? She really had no idea.

  Still, it was fun to turn her mind to a challenging task, to apply herself to something other than errands and volunteer work and the mundane tasks of running a household. At first she watched every person who walked by her cubicle, listened in on snippets of conversation, and tried to decode the novel language of this business that had always hovered at the edge of her existence but never really touched it.

  By lunchtime, which she spent nibbling on a sushi sampler plate that Shelley had sent in, her initial panic at the idea of occupying an office and being expected to produce something had faded, and she began to enjoy the ringing phones and the buzz of activity—not to mention being surrounded by so many adults. Here, nobody wanted her to cook for them or pick up after them or run their shirts to the cleaners. Here she was a part of the subdued urgency and the collective sense of purpose. The wonder of it slid down her spine and dug its way deep inside.