by Joanne Fluke
“Sure will. Go on, honey. Take Hannah back and show her what’s in your sample case.”
Hannah followed Luanne into one of the bedrooms. It was painted sunny yellow and there were frilly white curtains at the window. Suzie’s crib was against the far wall, and a twin bed that Hannah assumed was Luanne’s was against the other wall. Two plastic laundry baskets sat in a corner with a few toys in each. There were three children’s books sitting on top of a child-sized table, and Hannah noticed a handful of crayons in an old bleach bottle that had been partially cut away to make a crayon carrier.
“That’s Suzie’s corner,” Luanne explained, motioning toward the table. “I’m stenciling blue and white bunnies on the wall this weekend and I’m going to paint her table blue.”
Hannah noticed that the table was longer than most children’s tables. It was just the right height for a toddler like Suzie and there was plenty of room to work. “That table’s perfect. Tracey used to have a little square one. It looked nice, but it was barely big enough for a coloring book.”
“Suzie’s used to be an old coffee table. I just sawed off the legs. Now all I have to do is find something that she can use for a chair.”
Hannah remembered the things in her sister’s garage, all the clothing, toys, and toddler-sized furniture that Tracey had outgrown. “Andrea may have a chair for Suzie. I’ll ask her.”
“No.” Luanne shook her head. “I know you mean well, Hannah, but we don’t need charity. We’re getting along just fine.”
Hannah should have guessed that Luanne would be too proud to accept an outright gift. But there were ways around pride and as she stared at the table, Hannah had an idea.
“Believe me, it’s not charity.” Hannah gave what she hoped was an exasperated sigh. “I promised to help Andrea clean out the garage this weekend and cart all of Tracey’s toddler things to the dump.”
Luanne looked shocked. “To the dump? You should take them to the thrift store, Hannah. I’m sure somebody would be glad to buy them secondhand.”
“I know, but this stuff has been stored for a couple of years and Andrea’s too busy to go through it. It’s easier for her to just dump it.”
Luanne looked thoughtful. “It’s a shame to think of all those things just going to waste. I could go through it for Andrea. Helping Hands always needs contributions.”
“Would you? We could just haul it out here and you could sort it out one box at a time. But you have to promise to pull out anything that you can use for Suzie. You deserve it for doing all that work.”
“I’ll be glad to do it.” Luanne sounded pleased at the prospect. “Sit down at the dressing table, Hannah.
Luanne gestured toward an old-fashioned vanity that was painted a pretty shade of blue. Its mirror was darkly spotted with signs of age, and a sampling of Pretty Girl cosmetics was arranged on the top. A battered old folding chair with a matching coat of paint sat in front of the vanity, and Luanne whisked a stuffed rabbit off the seat. Once Hannah was seated, she smiled. “You said you needed some lipstick?”
“Yes, I do.” Hannah told herself that she wasn’t really lying. She’d already decided to buy some cosmetics from Luanne. Anyone who worked this hard to make a life for her mother and daughter deserved her help.
“What color did you have in mind?” Luanne asked.
“This color.” Hannah reached into her purse and drew out the bag that contained the cup. “Do you have anything that matches this?”
Luanne stared at the cup for a moment and then she sighed. “You can’t wear that color, Hannah. It’ll clash with your hair.”
“Oh, it’s not for me,” Hannah launched into the story she’d prepared. Bill had warned her not to mention the investigation, but Hannah had thought of a way around that restriction. “My mother just loves this shade. She was helping me take out the trash the other day and she spotted this cup with the lipstick on it.”
Luanne looked relieved. “Then it’s for your mother?”
“That’s right. She told me she used to wear lipstick like this and she can’t find it anywhere in town. I thought I’d surprise her with it the next time I go over there for Carb Tuesday.”
“Carb Tuesday?”
“That’s what I call it. I have dinner with Mother every Tuesday night and she’s crazy about sweets. Last night we had Hawaiian pot roast with pineapple slices and candied yams.”
Luanne started to grin. “I can see why you call it Carb Tuesday!”
“You haven’t heard the rest of it. We also had a side dish of fried bananas and nut cake with chocolate frosting for dessert. Mother had ice cream on top of hers.”
“Your mother sounds like a sugar junkie. Does she ever eat it right out of the bag?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised.” Hannah laughed. “I know she has a stash of fudge brownies in her freezer and a whole drawer filled with one-pound chocolate bars. I guess I should be grateful that she invited Carrie Rhodes and her son to join us for dinner. Norman’s a dentist.”
Luanne gave her a shrewd look. “I heard that Norman moved here when his father died. Is your mother trying to fix you up with him?”
“Of course she is. You know Delores. She’s desperate to marry me off and she’s leaving no single, divorced, or widowed stone unturned.”
“And you don’t want to get married?”
“I’m just fine the way I am. It would take the combined efforts of Harrison Ford and Sean Connery to change my mind.”
“Me too,” Luanne said. “I’m really glad that lipstick isn’t for you, Hannah. I’d hate to miss out on a sale, but I’d already decided that I couldn’t let you walk out of here wearing a color that’s wrong for you. With that pretty red hair of yours, you need to choose from an earthier palette.”
“But you do have a lipstick in this shade?”
“Sure, I do. And your mother’s right. I’m the only one in Lake Eden who carries it. It’s called ‘Pink Passion’ and I stock it for a lady in town.”
“That’s great, Luanne. This is going to win me points with my mother.” Hannah was proud of herself. She knew where the lipstick had come from. Now all she had to do was get Luanne to tell her the name of the woman who wore it. “Tell me about the other woman who wears it. Mother gets upset if someone she meets is wearing the same hat or the same dress. She probably feels the same way about lipstick.”
“Oh, that’s no problem. I don’t think your mother and Danielle belong to any of the same groups.”
Hannah zeroed in on the name. The only Danielle she knew was married to Boyd Watson, the winningest coach Jordan High had ever had. “Are you talking about Coach Watson’s wife?”
“That’s right. I just about died the first time she ordered it, but it actually looks good on her. You’ve got to be a natural light blond to wear it. And Danielle’s hair is so blond, it’s almost white.”
“Are you sure that Danielle Watson is the only woman in town who wears Pink Passion?”
“I’m positive. No one else orders it from me and I’m the only Pretty Girl distributor around.”
“Thanks, Luanne.” Hannah was grateful, more grateful than Luanne knew. “If you’ve got a tube of Pink Passion, I’ll take it.”
“I’ve got it. Just sit tight and I’ll pull it out of my stock. And while we’re at it, I’ll give you a makeover. Let’s see how attractive you’ll look with the right foundation, a nice shade of eye shadow, and the perfect color lipstick.”
“Okay,” Hannah agreed. It would be rude to refuse and she could ask more questions about Danielle while Luanne played beautician. “Does Danielle order a lot of makeup from you?”
Luanne pulled out a huge sample case and set it on a table next to the dresser. It was much larger than a briefcase and it opened on both sides to expose several tiers. The top tier contained miniature sample tubes of lipstick, the second had small jars of foundation and blusher, and the third was filled with various shades of eye shadow, eyeliner and mascara. Jars of nail polish were
arranged in the bottom and there was a lift-out tray with brushes, cotton swabs, and sponges.
“Danielle’s one of my best customers,” Luanne answered as she pulled out a jar of foundation. “She orders from our theatrical line.”
“She belongs to the Lake Eden Players?” Hannah named the community theater group that had opened a dinner theater in the old shoe store on Main Street.
“I don’t think so.” Luanne took out several old-fashioned hair clips, the ones that Bertie had stopped using at the Cut ’n Curl years ago, and gathered Hannah’s hair back from her face. “Let’s just get your hair out of the way.”
“Why does Danielle wear theatrical makeup?”
“She has skin problems.” Luanne began to apply foundation to Hannah’s face. “Close your eyes, Hannah. I need to do your eyelids, too.”
Hannah obediently closed her eyes, but she continued to ask questions. “What kind of skin problems?”
“Blemishes and rashes. Don’t say that I mentioned it. Danielle’s very self-conscious about her condition. She told me that she still breaks out like a teenager and it’s not just on her face. She gets horrible rashes on her upper arms and her neck, too.”
“And theatrical makeup covers that up?”
“Perfectly. Pretty Girl theatrical makeup will cover almost anything. Remember when Tricia Barthel got that black eye?”
“Mmm-hmm.” Hannah did her best to answer in the affirmative without opening her mouth. Luanne was in the process of applying foundation around her upper lip. She remembered Tricia’s black eye. Tricia had told everyone that she’d run into a door, but Hannah had heard the real story from Loretta Richardson. Loretta had told Hannah that her daughter, Carly, had thrown an algebra book at Tricia when Tricia had put the moves on Carly’s boyfriend.
“Tricia’s mother was really upset because they were taking senior pictures the next day. She called me in for a consultation and I used Pretty Girl’s theatrical foundation on Tricia. It covered her bruises perfectly and she’s ordered makeup from me ever since.”
“That’s amazing,” Hannah risked commenting. Luanne had moved on to her chin. “I saw Tricia’s picture when they ran all the senior photos in the paper and I didn’t see any bruises.”
“Pretty Girl theatrical foundation will cover anything from a bad bruise to a zit.” Luanne sounded proud of her products. “But you don’t need it, Hannah. Your skin is perfect. You must use just the right combination of moisturizer and night cream. If I were you, I wouldn’t change a thing.”
Hannah stifled a grin. She wasn’t planning to change anything, especially since she’d never used a moisturizer or a night cream in her life. She washed her face with whatever soap was on sale at the Red Owl and never thought twice about it.
“Just lean back and relax, Hannah,” Luanne said in a professional voice. “By the time I get through with you, you’ll look better than you’ve ever looked before in your life.”
Chapter Six
When Hannah walked into the community center, the first person she saw was her mother. Delores Swensen was holding court at the far end of the room, surrounded by a circle of her friends. As Hannah watched, her mother reached up to pat her sleek dark hair and her tasteful diamond earrings glittered in the overhead lights. She was wearing the soft blue dress that had been in the window of Beau Monde Fashions and her purse and shoes matched perfectly. Hannah’s mother was still a beautiful woman and she knew it. At fifty-three, Delores was winning the battle against time and only Hannah, who’d helped her mother with her finances for several months following her father’s death, knew exactly how expensive that battle was. Fortunately, Delores had the money to spend. Hannah’s father had left Delores in very good financial shape and she’d also inherited from her parents. There was no way that Delores could run out of money, even if she resorted to costly tummy tucks and face-lifts.
Hannah sighed as made her way through the crowd. With the exception of her hair color, Andrea resembled Delores. And Michelle was another petite beauty. Both of her younger sisters had inherited their mother’s beauty genes. Hannah was the only one in the family to take after her father. She was cursed with his curly, unmanageable red hair and she was at least four inches taller than her sisters. When strangers saw Delores with her daughters, they assumed that Hannah was adopted.
Delores was laughing at something that one of her friends had said. Hannah waited until the group of ladies had disbanded and then she walked over to tap Delores on the shoulder. “Hi, Mother.”
“Hannah?” Delores turned to face her. Her eyes widened, her mouth opened in a round O of shock, and she dropped her purse to grab Hannah’s hand.
“What is it?” Hannah began to frown.
“I don’t believe it, Hannah! You’re actually wearing makeup!”
Hannah was puzzled by her mother’s reaction. She’d decided to wear the results of Luanne’s makeover to the fundraiser, but if she’d known that Delores would react with such gaping-mouthed astonishment, she would have stopped at The Cookie Jar and washed her face. “You don’t like it?”
“It’s such a change. I don’t know what to say.”
“I can see that.” Hannah bent over to pick up her mother’s purse. “I guess I should have washed it off before I got here.”
“No! It actually looks good. You surprise me, Hannah. I had no idea you even knew what eyeliner was.”
“I must have hidden depths.” Hannah grinned at her mother. “Tell me the truth, Mother. Do you really think it’s an improvement?”
“It certainly is! Now, if I could only convince you to dress better, you might actually…” Delores stopped speaking and her eyes narrowed. “I know you hate makeup and there’s only one reason you’d go to all this trouble. Tell me, dear. Did you do this for Norman Rhodes?”
“Norman had nothing to do with it. I drove out to see Luanne Hanks and while I was there, she gave me a makeover.”
“Oh.” Delores looked disappointed. “Well, I think it looks very nice on you. If you’d put on makeup and get all dressed up more often, it might make a real difference in your life.”
Hannah shrugged and decided to change the subject before her mother went into one of her lectures. “Have you seen Andrea? I really need to talk to her.”
“She’s here somewhere. I saw her over by the refreshment table a few minutes ago.”
“I’d better go and find her.” Hannah prepared to make her escape. “See you later, Mother.”
Hannah searched the crowd, but she didn’t see Andrea. She decided she’d look for her sister later and headed off toward the refreshment table, which was set up on the side of the room. She was shirking her duties and Lisa would probably be eager to get home to her father.
“Hi, Hannah. “Lisa smiled as Hannah came up to the table. “Everyone loves your cookies. Mrs. Beeseman’s been back four times.”
“That figures. She loves anything with chocolate. You’ve done a wonderful job, Lisa. If you want to leave now, I can take over.”
“I don’t have to leave, Hannah. My neighbor said he’d sit with Dad until I got home. Besides, I’m really having fun.”
Hannah had trouble believing what she’d heard. “You think serving coffee and cookies at a political fundraiser is fun?
“It’s great. Everybody’s coming over to talk to me and they’re really friendly. Go ahead and circulate, Hannah. You might be able to drum up some new business.”
“Okay, but consider yourself on overtime.” Hannah gave her a long, level look. If this was Lisa’s idea of fun, she really needed to get out more. “I have to talk to Bill. Have you seen him?”
“Not yet. Your sister said he’d be late. I guess there was a whole lot of paperwork for him to do. Do you want me to tell him you’re looking for him when he gets here?”
“Yes, thanks.” Hannah needed to tell Bill about Danielle Watson, but in the meantime, she might be able to find out why Danielle was with Ron when he stocked the school’s cooler. “How ab
out Coach Watson’s wife? Is she here?”
“They were both here a couple of minutes ago. Coach Watson said that he just got back from a basketball clinic. He was gone for three days.”
Hannah’s mind was spinning as she set off to find Andrea. Coach Watson had been gone and Danielle had been with Ron, early this morning. Hannah didn’t want to believe that Ron was the type to have an affair with another man’s wife, but that was the obvious conclusion.
Andrea was talking to Mrs. Rhodes, but she excused herself when she saw Hannah. “What happened to you? You look fantastic!”
“Thanks, Andrea. Do you have a minute?”
“Of course I do.” Andrea led the way over to a less populated corner of the room. “Why are you wearing makeup?”
“Luanne Hanks gave me a makeover and I didn’t have time to wash it off. That’s why I needed to talk to you. When I was out at Luanne’s, I noticed that her daughter doesn’t have many things. I was just wondering if you had any of Tracey’s old furniture and toys that you could give her.”
“Of course I do. I saved every single thing she outgrew. I’d give it all to Luanne in a heartbeat, but I know how she is about taking charity.”
“No problem. I told her that you were hauling some of Tracey’s things to the dump and I asked her if she’d mind if you dropped them off her at house instead.”
“And she agreed?”
“Only after I said that you didn’t have time to go through the boxes and it was a real shame that all that nice stuff would be rotting out at the dump. She’s going to pull out what she can use and take the rest to the thrift shop.”
“Good job, Hannah!” Andrea reached out to pat her on the back. “I didn’t think you had a devious bone in your body, but I guess you must have learned something from Mother.”
Hannah spotted Danielle Watson from across the room. She was a part of a group that contained her husband, Marge Beeseman, Father Coultas, Bonnie Surma and Al Percy. Danielle was wearing an ice blue dress, and her light blond hair was arranged in a fashionable twist at the nape of her neck. Several feathery curls hung down near her cheeks to make her hairstyle less severe and her lips were colored with the lipstick that Hannah now recognized as Pretty Girl’s Pink Passion.
