Million-Dollar Makeover

by Cheryl St. John

  Lisa thought about that. “And the lawmen probably frequented the places.”

  “Likely. It was a western mining town. Saloon owners got rich off the miners.”

  “Did you learn anything else about Lily?”

  “Brad and I searched all the papers in the archives in the town-hall basement.”

  “That must have been fun.”

  “Actually it wasn’t so bad. Lily’s name came up a lot in later years, when she was Lily Harding. She was married to the town sheriff.”

  That news surprised Lisa. She leaned back against the counter. “I thought that was probably another tall tale.”

  “No. She was married to Nathaniel Harding, who by many accounts brought law and order to Thunder Canyon. Lily herself was a voice ahead of her time, speaking out for women’s rights and later in their quest for the vote.”

  “You found articles in the Nugget that told about that?”

  “We did.”

  “I think I’m going to go look through them myself.”

  “That’s a good idea. We weren’t really searching for Lily’s history, so there may have been information we overlooked.”

  “Thanks, Emily.”

  “Anytime. How are things going?”

  “What? You don’t know? I thought my menu and routine were public knowledge.”

  Emily laughed. I know about the pizza, but I was actually wondering about you. Are you handling all this?”

  “It’s pretty awful. I can’t go anywhere without cameras following. I’m my own reality show and I’m boring. I did make some awesome brownies tonight.”

  “They’ll find something else to interest them soon and you’ll be old news.”

  “Not soon enough for me. Thanks again.”

  “Oh,” Emily added, “one more thing I just thought of.”

  “What’s that?”

  “There’s an elderly woman who lives out on the western edge of town, past Elk. Almost to the Douglas property.”

  “Emelda Ross,” Lisa said. “She reads to the children at the library.”

  “That’s her,” Emily said. “You’ve met her?”

  “Used to go to story time when I was a kid. My mother took me.”

  “Well, anyway, she has stories about the early days of Thunder Canyon that just don’t quit. She was quite entertaining when I spoke with her. She might know more about Lily.”

  “Maybe I’ll go see her. Thanks.” Lisa hung up and glanced at the clock. It was too late to go visiting, but she would make a trip out to the Ross house soon.

  They’d caught on. The next morning Lisa opened the back door at the library, and farther down the alley two reporters who’d been leaning against the fenders of their vehicles grabbed cameras and aimed the lenses at her.

  “Come on, people! There has to be something going on somewhere that’s more interesting than this.” She went back inside and stood in the hall a moment.

  She changed plans and walked out the front door and down Main. She didn’t turn to look behind her, but she knew the vans were back there. All the buildings along Main Street sat side by side with covered board-walks. When she reached Town Hall, the receptionist, a woman with black hair and a white streak over one temple, recognized her and accompanied her to the records in the basement. She showed her the basic layout and how to get started finding newspaper articles.

  For a couple of hours Lisa scanned microfiche of the Thunder Canyon Nugget. More than once Lily had spent the night in jail for refusing to turn a woman over to her husband or father. Most of those incidents had been before Nathaniel Harding became sheriff, Lisa noted. There was only one account of the sheriff actually locking up the woman he would marry. One story told of a fire that had ravaged a property Lily owned, and there was mention of an auction Lily held to raise money for a fatherless family.

  Again Lisa thought of the woman she’d seen in the black-and-white photograph. Confident had been her overall impression of Lily. Assured of her purpose. Comfortable with her life choices. There was no doubt she’d owned and run a saloon. In fact, according to announcements in the Nugget, numerous town meetings had been held in her establishment.

  Lily’d held her own in a time when women were considered inferior. Nothing inferior about Lily Divine. She’d raised her head high and marched to her own tune.

  Lisa marched to her own tune, as well, but it was a quiet melody, written to blend into the surrounding sounds. She’d spent her whole life trying to be invisible.

  She hated attention, and why was that? Was she inferior to others in some respect? Looks? Money? Yes. Yes.

  Well, she had money now. Or at least she would have. Bernadine was rushing the paperwork. The Douglases had established an account to hold future profits from sales of ore from the Queen of Hearts, and the names were already being changed on that account. The thought of being responsible for a prospective million dollars or more plus employees and all that this inheritance entailed made her feel ill. She definitely needed all the help she could get.

  Lisa walked out the front door of Town Hall and spotted the news vans. She was disgusted with herself for hiding because she felt inferior. She could hide because she didn’t want the publicity, but feeling inferior was wrong.

  Instead of heading back for her Blazer, she headed west on Main until she came to the Hitching Post. Old Town had been restored and reconstructed to look like the 1800s town it had once been, and true to the bar and restaurant’s name, split-rail hitching posts lined the boardwalk.

  Two cars were parked in front, and she glanced at her watch, noting it wasn’t yet the lunch hour. The place was popular and would probably fill up with locals soon.

  Her stomach fluttered as she opened the door and entered the building with unexpected awe. The Hitching Post had been here for forty years in its current form and sixty-plus years before the remodeling. Her great-great-grandmother had stood on these very floors and walked the same rooms and lived and slept in the attached house next door.

  The floors were scarred wood, the varnished pine walls darkened over the years. Lanterns, tin signs, spurs and all number of western memorabilia hung from nails and dangled in the doorways. How many of these walls and items had Lily touched?

  No one stood near the counter at the front, and Lisa could see the bar from the entrance. The sound of a slow ballad droned from a jukebox in the corner. Two silver-haired men played checkers at a table and a stocky, middle-aged man in a white shirt stacked glasses behind the bar.

  Lisa recognized the enormous polished cherrywood bar from the photograph and approached. The piece was hopelessly scarred and several grooves had been worn deep in the wood, but it was still impressive. Behind the bar, in a place of prominence between mirrors and shelves of glasses and rows of liquor bottles, was the painting she’d come to see.

  The place didn’t get a whole lot of sunlight, which had probably aided in preserving the portrait. It was bigger than she’d anticipated, but every bit as…provocative.

  Clearly the same Lily Divine that she’d seen in the photograph was depicted in the artist’s rendition. Reclining on her side, the woman faced the artist. If Lisa wasn’t mistaken, Lily’s curly dark hair had the same auburn highlights as her own, and similar ringlets framed her face. The similarity was as surprising as it was exciting. What other characteristics did they share?

  This Lily had probably been in her twenties and was depicted adorned with…pearls. Period. Lisa definitely wore more clothing.

  The woman wasn’t the well-rounded type Lisa’d seen in nude paintings in art-history books, although she obviously had what it took in all the right places. No wonder Lisa’d been asked how she compared to Lily Divine. The chick was stacked.

  Her breasts were clearly visible through a gauzy black veil that draped over one shoulder, and Victoria’s Secret would have signed this woman in a heartbeat. The material gathered over her hip and discreetly shaded her pubic area.

  Lily’s legs were long and shapely, and s
trands of pearls circled each ankle. Lily Divine was a hottie.

  “This your first look at the Shady Lady?”

  “What?” Lisa glanced at the bartender who’d approached. “Oh, yes.”

  “We got postcards we sell to the tourists if you wanna buy one.” He pointed to a rack on the counter by an ice machine. “A dollar. Want one?”

  “Sure, thanks.” She opened her purse.

  He placed a postcard on the bar. “What’ll you have to drink?”

  “Um.” She glanced at the card and then around the interior of the room, orienting herself. “Do you have root beer?”

  He shook his head. “Cola.”

  “Diet?”

  “Sure thing.” He prepared her a glass of soda and set it on a cocktail napkin. “Two fifty with the postcard.”

  She paid him, and he gave her another look, recognition dawning. “Say, aren’t you…?”

  Lisa’s cheeks warmed and she busied herself placing the picture in her purse.

  The man snapped his fingers. “You’re the heiress.” His eyebrows shot up. “The gal who inherited the gold mine!”

  She acknowledged his observation with a nod and the bravest smile she could come up with. “That’s me.”

  “Then you’re—” He stopped and pointed up at the painting. “You’re the Shady Lady’s kin.”

  She looked back up at the portrait. It had hung there for generations. No sense getting embarrassed about it now. She was after all linked through history to this establishment. “That’s right.”

  “Well…congratulations.”

  She nodded her thanks and he moved away. Lisa sipped her soft drink while she studied the portrait. What a fascinating woman Lily had been. She’d been known down through the years as the Shady Lady, though there wasn’t much proof that she’d been a prostitute. Actually this painting seemed to be the only tie to her not-so-proper past.

  What exactly had the woman had to be ashamed of? Not that body, that was for sure. Though the painting must have been scandalous in its day, one could see nearly as much flesh today watching a Super Bowl halftime.

  The artist had captured Lily’s expression so vividly that this was without a doubt the same confident woman as the one in the photograph at the museum. Her dauntless smile revealed her pleasure with life. Perhaps pleasure with herself or her accomplishments.

  Lisa wanted the same confidence Lily had possessed. Why hadn’t she inherited that? She wondered then about Lily’s children and what had transpired down through the generations to make Lisa and her great-great-grandmother so different.

  “Want something else?” the bartender asked, snagging her attention.

  She’d finished her soft drink. “No, thanks. I’ll be moving along.”

  She picked up her purse and left the Hitching Post. A couple of her paparazzi were out of their vehicles, chatting in the shade of a maple tree. They saw her and jumped to their positions to follow. She observed them for a moment and wondered what Lily would have done if she’d been in this same predicament.

  It was several blocks back to the library where she’d parked, but instead of hurrying, she took her time. Along the way she passed the Clip ’N’ Curl salon. She’d always thought it sounded like a place where you’d take your poodle, but it was the only hair salon in town. Judy Johnson usually cut Lisa’s hair.

  Lisa had gone to school with Judy’s daughter, Jennifer, so she always got an update on Jennifer’s charmed and perfect life with her charmed and perfect teacher husband and her charmed and perfect children—one girl and one boy, of course.

  Lisa pushed open the door and the overhead bell rang. The smell of perming solution immediately burned her nostrils. One customer in rods was being neutralized and two others sat under dryers. A fourth was having her silver-blue hair styled into waves.

  “Hello, Lisa,” Judy called. “I’m doing a perm and a color, so it’ll be another hour.”

  “That’s okay. I’ll come back.”

  She stood on the boardwalk and glanced up and down the street before continuing on to her vehicle.

  As she drove home, she changed her mind about going back to the Clip ’N’Curl. She’d try something different for a change. If she thought her Blazer would make it, she’d drive to Billings and visit a salon. Or a day spa.

  Some millionaire she was. She didn’t even have a decent car.

  Joey and Piper wagged their tails excitedly when she arrived, and she knelt to give them both attention before letting them out into the backyard.

  The light on the answering machine was blinking, and the contraption actually cooperated, so she played her messages. One was from Bernadine saying she needed a few signatures. Another was from someone named Dave who claimed they’d gone to school together and was wondering if she’d like to hook up. She remembered him as the receiver on the football team. He’d sat beside her in Language Arts and had never so much as spoken to her.

  The last recording made her heartbeat stutter when she heard the deep male voice. The quarterback.

  “Lisa, this is Riley. Give me a call when you get in. I want to ask you something. Later.”

  She used great discipline in phoning Bernadine first and arranged for a quick meeting. Then she took the slip of paper on which Riley’d written his cell phone number and dialed.

  “Hey, you called me back.”

  “Yes. You wanted to ask me something?”

  “I did. Will you have dinner with me Friday evening? We can drive into Billings. I’ll make reservations somewhere nice.”

  Was this a business dinner? Or…personal? Her stomach dipped. She wasn’t into the whole dating scene, and if he was expecting her to be cute or coy, it wasn’t going to happen.

  “Is this…business?”

  “Do you want it to be?”

  “I just don’t want to mess up our relationship as client and agent.”

  “You haven’t hired me yet.”

  “Right. Well, you’re hired.” She paused a moment. “Now we have a working relationship.”

  “Good. So I’ll pick you up Friday?”

  She still didn’t know his intent, but she surprised herself and said okay anyway. She hung up the phone and second-guessed herself while she looked for something to eat for lunch. Dinner at someplace nice. Just thinking about it almost made her lose her appetite. What would she wear?

  Maybe she would go to Billings and do a little shopping. She had credit cards. She could even rent a decent car to get there. She was a millionaire, after all. Excited about the idea, she slapped together a peanut-butter sandwich.

  Chapter Five

  Lisa glanced around the inside of the New Beginnings Day Spa searching for someone who looked like exactly the person she wanted cutting her hair. She spotted her giving a man in his twenties a cut. “Her.”

  “That’s Miranda. Five minutes, hon.”

  Miranda had short hair, dark at the roots and a combination of blonde and red on the bleached ends. She wore black high-heeled boots and dangling rhinestone earrings.

  “I don’t want to look like the old me,” Lisa told her ten minutes later. “I need a whole new look.”

  “What are you going for? Color? Surprise?”

  “Anything will be a surprise. I just want to feel good. I want to be…confident.”

  Miranda washed and conditioned her hair, combed it back from her face and studied her. “Can I do your eyebrows?”

  “Sure.”

  “You have a great face. I want to give you a look you can learn to do yourself. I can give you a good cut, just above your shoulders and sort of fringy around your face. We’ll do some highlights to add depth. And I can teach you to straighten it yourself. Wait till you see the results.”

  Miranda went to work. She was serious about her job and about the look she wanted Lisa to achieve. She snipped and cut and colored, and Lisa began to have a few qualms about what she’d gotten herself into. She didn’t want to look foolish when all was done.

  Her fe
ars were soon put to rest when the hairdresser spun her around in the chair to face the mirror. The pretty young woman she stared at didn’t look anything like the frumpy old Lisa. No frizz, just shine and soft curl that flattered the shape of her face.

  Lisa had picked a miracle worker. The result was amazing.

  Lisa studied her reflection and couldn’t believe the difference. “I love it.”

  But they weren’t done. Miranda worked with her until she could use the products and the iron and get her hair straight and styled on her own.

  “Now,” Miranda said. “Makeup.”

  “I do okay.”

  “No argument. You said you don’t want to look like the old you. You need a face for the new you.”

  “You’re right.”

  “I’ll go get the cosmetologist.”

  Makeup was one thing. Waxing was entirely another. But Lisa’d come for the day and the works and she was going to stay for the whole ride. Legs waxed, a manicure, pedicure and a signature on a credit-card slip later and she was headed for a shop several blocks away where the stylist had recommended she go.

  Lisa entered the store, which had two levels and a main sitting area with a cappuccino machine. A slim young woman in a fashionable blouse and skirt greeted her.

  “I’m Gwen. Miranda told me you were coming. You look fabulous. I have a few things I’d like you to try on. Did you have anything specific in mind?”

  “Actually I did. I think I’d like something in red.”

  Bernadine nearly fell out of her office chair the next day when Lisa walked in after the secretary’s announcement over the intercom. “Lisa? Oh, my gosh! You look fabulous! It is you, isn’t it?”

  “It’s me.” She did a little whirl before the woman’s desk, showing off her trim two-piece suit and sexy backless heels. It was a completely new experience to feel attractive, and she was enjoying the feeling.

  Bernadine got up to come around and stare, hands on her cheeks.

  “Big change, huh?”

  “Change? My word, more like a total metamorphosis! You’re like one of those extreme makeovers.” She reached up to touch a wisp of Lisa’s hair. “This color is incredible.”