Christy Miller Collection, Volume 1

by Robin Jones Gunn

  “I’m impressed.” Christy hurried to spread on the butter so it would melt into all the little squares; then she poured the syrup slowly so each little square had just the right amount. Carefully cutting the tender waffle into bite-sized pieces, she closed her eyes and drew the first forkful to her mouth.

  Suddenly Aunt Marti burst into the kitchen and shrieked, “Christy darling! What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Eating my breakfast.”

  “But, sweetheart, don’t you realize how many grams of fat are in that one waffle? That certainly isn’t a proper breakfast for a young lady who wants her eyes to glow, her skin to gleam, and her hair to shine!”

  “I do? I mean, it isn’t?” Christy looked to Uncle Bob for support as she held her first bite only inches from her mouth, the syrup dripping onto her fingers. Uncle Bob only smiled.

  Bustling around the kitchen, Aunt Marti whirled something in the blender.

  “Here you are, dear. This is much better for you, and it has all the vitamins and minerals you need to make the boys notice you.”

  She presented Christy with a glass foaming with some kind of protein breakfast drink. “Go ahead, honey. Try it!”

  Christy put down her fork and picked up the glass. It looked awful. She took a small sip. It tasted awful too!

  “Yuck, Aunt Marti! You expect me to drink this stuff?”

  “Yes, drink it all, dear. And I’ve got something else for you here.” She pulled from the refrigerator a sectioned grapefruit half sitting on a glass plate with a white doily underneath it.

  With an air of satisfaction, Marti presented it to Christy. “There. Isn’t it marvelous? The perfect breakfast. Now hurry and finish while I put on my shoes. We’ve only got twenty minutes before your draping appointment.” Then out of the kitchen and down the hall pranced Aunt Marti.

  Christy looked at her waffle and then at her grapefruit. She turned to Uncle Bob, who was suppressing a huge laugh.

  “So,” he teased, “vitamins and minerals, huh?”

  “It’s not funny!” Christy returned, trying not to laugh herself.

  “I don’t know. Sounds like a pretty good breakfast to me.”

  “Then you drink it!” She pushed the glass toward him.

  “Not me. Your aunt tried to reform my diet once. Once was enough!”

  Christy looked at the protein drink and then at the waffle. Quickly, she stuffed two big bites of waffle into her mouth. “You won’t tell on me, will you?” she garbled.

  “Your secret is safe with me.” Uncle Bob winked, pulling another waffle off the iron. “She really means well, you know.”

  “I know,” Christy said with a sigh. “Uncle Bob? Do you think I should get my hair cut?”

  He joined her at the table, studying her face and hair like a photographer looking for just the right angle. “Guess I’m not the best person to ask. I’ve always liked your hair the way it is. Your aunt is the one who knows all about hairstyles. Why don’t you ask her?”

  “That’s just it. She’s the one who thought I should get my hair cut today, and I’m not real sure about it.”

  “Well,” said Uncle Bob, slicing his waffle, “the only advice I can give you is, ‘To thine own self be true.’ ”

  “To my own what?”

  “ ‘To thine own self be true.’ It’s a quote from Shakespeare. It means always do what you want to do, and don’t try to please everybody else. Follow your own instincts. That’s been my philosophy for years and probably part of the reason I did so well in real estate. I just followed my instincts, and to my own self I’ve always been true.”

  Aunt Marti entered the kitchen dressed in a classy black and white pantsuit that showed off her slim figure. Christy discreetly carried her dishes to the sink and quietly poured the protein drink down the disposal before her aunt noticed.

  “I hope you also told Christy that much of your success can be attributed to that wonderful secretary you worked with in your first real estate office.” She put her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek, leaving a smudge of fuchsia lipstick.

  “You know,” she went on, “that sweet young secretary you ended up marrying.”

  They exchanged a smile and a quick kiss.

  “See what I mean, Christy?” Uncle Bob pointed out. “It always pays to follow your own inner voice.”

  “Well, my inner voice says we need to get going!” exclaimed Aunt Marti. She gave Christy a quick look. “Is that what you’re going to wear, dear? Well, no matter. We don’t have time to change. Let’s get going.”

  Christy looked down at her long floral-print skirt and the pink tunic top that hung almost to her knees. It was one of the nicest outfits she had brought with her, and she liked it. Aunt Marti’s comment made her feel so out of style. Depression surged inside her like a wave, but she didn’t have time for it to overwhelm her as it had yesterday. Aunt Marti was already pulling her silver Mercedes convertible out of the garage.

  “Better get going. When your aunt goes into warp drive like this, there’s no stopping her.”

  Uncle Bob was right; with Aunt Marti steering Christy along, the day zoomed by. In the first hour and a half a striking middle-aged woman “draped” Christy with a variety of colored fabrics to determine which colors looked good with her skin tones and which didn’t. She selected a group of paint chips and fabric squares and prepared them in a small packet for Christy to carry with her while shopping.

  “These are your colors,” the specialist told her. “Don’t ever wear a color that’s not in your packet.”

  The bright green of her bathing suit was not in the packet. The light pink of the top she had on was not in the packet. She had never realized what a fashion degenerate she was.

  As Aunt Marti and Christy paraded in and out of the fancy department stores, Christy could barely keep up. When it came to shopping, Aunt Marti was in “warp drive.” Nothing could slow her down, and nothing was out of her price range.

  At noon they stopped for a salad at Bob Burns Restaurant, which Marti said was the only place with atmosphere in all of Fashion Island. Christy thought the place was too dark and quiet to be inviting, but she meekly followed her aunt to a booth. Dropping onto the thick cushion, Christy pushed the bags against the wall.

  “I’m afraid we’re making rather slow progress, dearie.” Aunt Marti squeezed her lemon slice into her iced tea. “Aren’t you enjoying this? You seem awfully reluctant to try on anything. Why, you haven’t tried on a single bathing suit yet! What do you think the problem is, Christy?”

  Christy ran her fingers through the ends of her hair and decided to be honest with her aunt. After all, Uncle Bob had told her to be true to herself.

  “I just don’t know if I like all the same things that you like. I mean, those two shirts and the pair of sandals we bought are pretty basic, but I don’t know if I’m ready for some of those other outfits you were showing me. Plus, I don’t know, I just feel weird having you pay for everything. I’ve never been shopping like this before.”

  The waitress arrived with their salads and asked Christy if she would care for fresh ground pepper on hers.

  Christy stared at her blankly for a moment and then said, “No, I don’t think so.” She had never been asked that before.

  The waitress didn’t seem to notice Christy’s inexperience; she was already offering to twist the large pepper mill over Aunt Marti’s salad.

  “Listen.” Marti waved the waitress away with a swish of her hand. “I already told you: Today is my treat. Now, please don’t spoil all my fun. Let’s start buying things!”

  Christy nodded and pushed her cherry tomato to the side of her plate. “Okay. I’ll try to loosen up.”

  “That brings me to another subject, Christy. You must work at being more outgoing if you want to make any friends with the beach kids. Take control of your destiny, darling! Plan your goals and then go after them. Force yourself to be the one in control. Make the first move! Be aggressive! It’s the
only way you’re going to make it.”

  “I don’t know. That’s not really me.”

  “Then make it you. Set your sights high and tell yourself that anything you want is yours.”

  Christy finished her salad and hungrily eyed the dessert tray the waitress held before them. “I’ll have that chocolate thing there.” She pointed to a chocolate torte. “As long as it doesn’t have nuts in it.”

  “Christy!” exclaimed Aunt Marti.

  Before Marti could scold her, Christy echoed, “You just said anything I want today is mine, and I want this piece of cake.”

  Aunt Marti laughed in a light, happy way that cut through her sophistication, exposing her as the simple hometown girl she once was.

  “Okay, you win. Nothing for me, thanks,” she told the waitress. “Enjoy your decadent fat grams in a hurry so we can go do some serious shopping.”

  In the dressing room of the next store, Christy had tried on a dozen bathing suits when Aunt Marti brought in one she seemed to be thrilled about.

  “This is marvelous!” she gushed with renewed excitement. “It’s not too skimpy like the red one, and yet it’s still quite fashionable. Trust me, dear. It will look absolutely stunning on you.”

  The suit, a black one-piece, had thin straps that crisscrossed in the back. It was definitely not the kind of suit Christy would have chosen for herself, but she was eager to try it on and to hear Aunt Marti’s reaction.

  Aunt Marti had a reaction all right. “Oh, Christy! Didn’t I tell you? It’s perfect on you. Simply perfect! Come on, step out of that dressing room and look at yourself in this full-length mirror.”

  As Christy shyly emerged, Aunt Marti called over her shoulder to the dressing-room attendant, “See my niece in this bathing suit. Doesn’t she look marvelous?”

  How embarrassing! Christy looked in the mirror and caught the reflection of the attendant smiling and politely nodding her head.

  “Should I get it?” Christy asked, staring at the $120 price tag.

  “Of course!” Aunt Marti chirped. “Now let’s see what else we can find. They have a superb selection here.”

  A half hour later, Christy watched the cashier add up her new wardrobe. Besides the suit, she had three pairs of jeans, six shirts, two dresses, a sweatshirt, a jeans skirt, and four pairs of shorts.

  “The total comes to $887.58,” said the cashier with a smile.

  Aunt Marti whipped out a credit card and handed the cashier a pair of bright yellow earrings. “Can you add these on as well?”

  “They’ll go perfect with the sundress, don’t you think, Christy?”

  Christy was still gasping at the total of the bill. Her mother made most of her clothes, and when they did go shopping it was traumatic to spend more than forty dollars at one time. But she was with Aunt Marti now, and this was Aunt Marti’s way of doing things. So she responded with, “Sure. They’re great!”

  Passing the cosmetic counter on the way out, Marti exclaimed, “Oh, good. I’m glad we came this way. I’m almost out of my fragrance.”

  She asked the clerk for the largest size of Chanel No 5 and then said, partly to the clerk and partly to Christy, “Say, I’ve got an idea! Let’s have your makeup done while we’re here.”

  The clerk responded graciously, and before Christy knew it she was perched on a high stool before a mirror with lights tilted toward her. The cosmetic specialist gently smoothed a cotton ball over Christy’s cheeks and down her nose, explaining the proper procedure for cleansing facial pores.

  This must be a dream, Christy thought as the cosmetician smoothed Autumn Haze shadow across each eyelid. A soft pencil traced the inside ridges of her lids and was gently dabbed to perfection at the outside corners. The brush across her cheeks felt like velvet, and as she pursed her lips she thought the lipstick smelled like strawberries.

  “There,” announced the cosmetician. “Have a look at yourself. What do you think?”

  Christy opened her eyes slowly.

  “Is that me?” she asked in a small voice.

  It was her, but it wasn’t. She looked older, more mature. And her eyes! She never noticed before, but her eyes really were kind of pretty.

  “Her eyes are the perfect shape,” the cosmetician said to Marti. “She can do about anything with them colorwise because they’re such an unusual shade of blue-green.”

  “Really?” Christy looked at her eyes more closely in the mirror.

  “Yes.” The cosmetician tilted her chin up to look at her more closely. “I know models who would kill to have eyes like yours.”

  Christy couldn’t believe it. Little bubbles of excitement burst inside, making her feel lovely and almost as if she had done something she shouldn’t have. At home she was only allowed to wear lip gloss. But this—this was wonderful!

  “You’ve done a marvelous job,” Aunt Marti praised the cosmetician. “We’ll take one of everything you used.”

  “Aunt Marti!” Christy gasped. “Are you sure?”

  “Why yes, dear, and please don’t make such a scene. We’d also like your complete line of sunscreen products.”

  Christy couldn’t believe all this was happening to her. “Thank you!”

  “You’re very welcome, my dear.” Aunt Marti handed her the bulging bag of cosmetics. “Now we have one more stop to make, if you’re at all interested.”

  “What’s that?” Christy asked, catching her reflection in a shiny display as they passed.

  “Why, Maurice’s Hair Salon, of course.”

  Christy flashed a smile at her cunning aunt. “I guess it’s now or never!”

  At four-thirty they arrived home and found Uncle Bob in the den, sitting in front of his laptop with soft jazz music playing in the background.

  “Ta-daaa!” Aunt Marti announced dramatically.

  Bob turned around and for a moment looked shocked. Then his dry smile returned. “Well, now! I didn’t realize you were bringing a movie star home for dinner. I would have worn something more presentable.”

  “What do you think?” Christy turned all the way around. “Do you like it? I mean, my hair? Do you like it short like this?”

  It was short all right! The front layers hit just below her ears. Maurice had styled the layers around her face and cut thin, wispy bangs. At the salon, Christy had moaned that she felt like a pampered poodle, but Maurice overheard and Marti scolded her severely. He seemed offended that anyone should question one of his creations. All the stylists then came over and made gushy comments about how ravishing she looked.

  Christy wasn’t convinced. She wondered what Paula would think. But since Paula was several thousand miles away, Christy was anxious to hear what Uncle Bob had to say. She knew he would be honest with her.

  “You sure surprised me, missy. If you didn’t have on the same clothes as the girl who left here this morning, I wouldn’t have known it was you. You’ve become quite a young lady.”

  Christy sighed in relief. “The guy at the salon showed me how to put this spritz stuff on my hair, and I got two bottles of it. I also got a curling iron, and he showed me how to use that, too. But that’s not all I got today! Wait till you see what’s in all these bags. I’ve never been on a shopping trip like this before.”

  Excitedly, she opened all the shopping bags to display her new belongings. Soon the couch was covered with clothes, shoes, accessories, and her complete makeup assortment.

  “Can you believe this?” Christy asked and giggled. “I wish I could wear it all at once.”

  Aunt Marti looked quite pleased with herself. “This is just what she needed,” she whispered to Bob. “Some new clothes and things to make her feel good about herself. I told you she would snap out of her little slump.”

  “You were right,” Christy squealed. “These earrings go great with this outfit. I can’t wait to wear it!”

  “Then how about putting it on now, and I’ll take my two favorite women out for a celebration dinner.”

  “Actually, Bob,” Mart
i said in her take-charge tone of voice, “I’ve got my women’s group meeting tonight, so you and Christy go ahead. Why don’t you take her to the Crab Cooker?”

  “Okay,” Bob agreed. “Sounds good to me. What do you think, Christy?”

  She had already scooped up her new clothes and called as she dashed up the stairs, “I’ll be ready in five minutes.” Amazingly enough, she was.

  But when she came downstairs, Uncle Bob was on the phone. While she waited for him, Christy noticed that he had changed into a clean shirt and combed his thick, brown hair. A handsome man, he looked much younger than his fifty-one years. His skin, leathered by too many afternoons on the golf course, had settled into creases around his eyes that deepened when he smiled. His voice, smooth and low, contributed to his easygoing manner, which contrasted so sharply with Aunt Marti’s accelerated approach to life.

  When Uncle Bob finished his phone conversation, Christy made her entrance into the living room.

  He gave a low whistle and offered his arm. “May I have the honor of escorting you to the car, m’lady?”

  Christy laughed. “Why certainly, your handsomeness.”

  As they walked out the door, Aunt Marti called, “Have a marvelous time, you two!”

  They arrived at the Crab Cooker to discover they had a half-hour wait before they could be seated. Ordering shrimp cocktails from the walk-up window, they moved through the crowd to a long wooden bench.

  “Nice breeze tonight,” observed Uncle Bob.

  “Smells kind of fishy,” said Christy.

  “That’s because Newport Pier is right down that street.” He indicated the basic direction with his plastic spoon. “That’s where all the boats bring in their daily catch.”

  “Wow!” Christy exclaimed. “Look at that car!”

  “You mean the Rolls Royce?”

  “Yeah!” Then, lowering her voice, “Do you think movie stars are in it?”

  “Not likely.”

  “I’ve never seen a car like that, except on TV.”