Some of what she was feeling must have shown on her face, as Vivian’s expression softened. “Darling, we’re not going to abandon you, you know. In fact, I will be quite hurt if I’m not kept in the loop. I expect a full report on how things turn out.” Vivian smiled with her typical confidence and assurance.
In that moment Lucy would have killed for even a shred of that élan to come naturally to her.
“Practice doesn’t always make perfect,” Vivian told her. “But it will put you at ease. You’ll have plenty of time for more practice once you leave.” Before she could say anything else, Vivian shooed her off into Margo’s capable hands.
Three hours and a few singe marks later, Margo stepped back and smiled. “I think you’re finally getting the hang of it.”
Lucy smiled weakly and gladly put the flatiron down. “I guess there isn’t a wash-and-wear hairstyle that would look this nice, huh?”
Margo just grinned. “The price we pay for beauty.”
Lucy looked back in the mirror. The blonde streaks in her hair were so wispy thin they weren’t all that noticeable, but the overall effect had turned her hair the warm shade of honey. That, along with her new fake tan—which so far appeared to be amazingly streak-free—made her eyes look brighter. They were still hazel, but at least they didn’t look as muddy.
Overall, the new hair color had been a shock, but once they’d started cutting, the color had been the least of her concerns. She now sported a fringe of wispy bangs, while the rest barely brushed her shoulders. She told them that she’d only kept it long because the heavier it was, the less lumpy it tended to look. Plus it was easier for her to put in a bun during class. All that bending over little desks, when her hair swung in her face, was a pain.
Margo had laughed off her protestations and told her she’d teach her how to smooth her hair. Smooth, hell. Flatten it with a smoking iron was what she meant.
But looking in the mirror now at her wispy bangs, tanned face, and poker-straight honey-blonde hair . . . well, hell, if she didn’t know the person in the mirror was her, she might actually find her downright attractive. She’d been so caught up in learning how to use the flatiron without taking off a patch of her face, she hadn’t really taken any time to look at the overall picture.
Margo had stepped out to see if Carol was ready for her, prompting Lucy to lean forward, closer to the mirror, a smile flirting around her lips.
“So . . .” she said, allowing the smile that suddenly bubbled up inside her to surface as she leaned in to the mirror, “how you doin’?” Her Joey Tribbiani imitation needed some work, but she found herself laughing in almost giddy delight, nonetheless.
Vivian chose that moment to stride in. “Ah! Look at you, darling. As with Catherine Deneuve, another timeless beauty is born.”
Lucy turned, smiling a bit sheepishly at being caught mugging at her own reflection.
“Well, darling, what do you think?”
Lucy opened her mouth, shut it again, then shrugged as she grinned helplessly. “Thank you,” she finally managed, through a throat suddenly tight with emotion.
“Oh, honey,” Vivian responded, immediately striding to her with arms outstretched. She drew Lucy from her styling chair and pulled her into an embrace, which was only slightly awkward with their foot-plus difference in height.
Both of them sniffling, she then held Lucy at arm’s length. “Are you beginning to feel the power of your own magic, darling? Sleeping Beauty has been awakened.”
Lucy let out a watery snort. “I don’t know if I’ve fully embraced my inner princess, but I’m trying.”
“Let me have a look at you,” Vivian said, then turned her this way and that so she could see all sides. When she turned Lucy back to face her, her expression was more serious than Lucy had ever seen it, except perhaps that very first day, which now seemed like a lifetime ago.
“You’re lovely. But I want you to tell me one thing. I want to make sure you know you have this power with or without all the trappings and accessorizing.”
“I wish I could say I’m as confident of that as you are. I have definitely learned a great deal about myself. And I’m vain enough to admit that sprucing up the exterior has helped me really begin to believe in all the interior restoration work we’ve done.” Her cheeky grin faded a bit. “But I can tell you that you were right about chipping off the layers and getting down to solid wood. It’s a whole lot more than just a hairdo and eyebrows with a graceful arch. I wouldn’t have pushed myself like this if it hadn’t been for you. Hell, if it hadn’t been for you, I wouldn’t have stayed.”
“And what a loss for both of us.”
Lucy’s eyes stung again. “All that time you spent with me.” She took a shaky breath. “I know you don’t normally do that, and I know I can never repay you, but—”
Vivian gave her a surprising little shake. “You go to your reunion and prove to yourself that what you’ve learned here is real. That you’re one hot mama and they’re lucky you found time in what will soon be your very busy social schedule to squeeze them in.”
“Yeah, I’ll do that,” Lucy said dryly between sniffles.
Vivian’s infamous knowing smile curved her red-painted lips. “Darling, you doubt me. But your life will change. Whether you keep up with the highlights or not. Although I think they really do bring out your eyes.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” she blurted excitedly before she could stop herself.
Vivian’s grin widened. “We both know it’s what is on the inside that matters.” Her grin widened. “But you know, it never hurts to keep the chassis in mint condition.” She did a graceful turn, then shot Lucy a wink. “I should know, darling. I’m considered a collectible.”
Lucy laughed. “I’m really going to miss you.”
“Why? Am I going somewhere?”
“Tomorrow is my last day.”
“At Glass Slipper. But don’t think you can get rid of me that easily. I’ve invested a great deal of time in you. You don’t think I’m just going to abandon all my hard work and leave an amateur in charge.”
It was pure Vivian sass. And Lucy loved it. “Well, though I should be telling you that I’ve taken up enough of your time, the rookie in me would greatly appreciate the follow-up support.”
Vivian surprised her by tipping up even higher on her tippy toes and planting a kiss on Lucy’s cheek. Well, jaw. “Just try and stop me,” she said, wiping off the lipstick smear with the side of her thumb. “I might just have to get a date to this reunion myself,” she teased.
“And make it that much harder to get Jason’s attention? I don’t think I’m up to that level of competition yet.”
Vivian hooted. “I knew I picked a winner.” She grinned. “Such a sharp little smart-ass you are.”
“Thank you,” Lucy said sincerely. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve said about me.”
Margo popped her head in just then. “Carol is ready for you.”
Lucy nodded, then turned back to Vivian, but before she could find the words, Vivian merely squeezed her arms and nudged her toward the door.
Vivian watched Lucy walk out the door, wondering if she even realized how differently she carried herself now. She didn’t hunch her shoulders to downplay her height. Her strides were longer now, more assured. There was a swing in her hips. And a more confident smile on her happy face.
“And I’d kill for those damn legs of hers,” Vivian murmured under her breath. “Arturo wouldn’t stand a chance.”
Aurora tapped on the door and stuck her head in. “Vivi? You ready? It’s almost time for us to leave. You know how terrible traffic is getting around the Kennedy Center. The curtain goes up in an hour.”
Vivian allowed her gaze to linger a moment longer on the empty doorway Lucy had passed through. She remembered the day she’d gotten her first job as an assistant dresser. Her new boss, Dessora Claudette, had taken one look at Vivian’s eclectic, pieced-together ensemble of a print velveteen skir
t, magenta bustier jacket, with a man’s striped satin tie tucked beneath, the ends trailing from the bustier hemline, and had hired her on the spot. “You think you have vision, do you, Vivian?” she’d demanded in her accented, three-packs-a-day voice.
Vivian had nodded, then straightened her shoulders and announced that yes, she thought she did. Always had.
She’d never forgotten Dessora’s wicked smile. “Good. Because you’re mine now. And together we’re going to knock those Hollywood bitches on their collective fanny-tucked asses. This town won’t know what hit it until it’s too late.”
Vivian smiled, thinking of Lucy and the impact she was about to make on her own life and that of everyone who crossed her path. Go out there and knock them on their collective asses, Lucy Harper.
Chapter 12
Are you sure you didn’t mind my coming along?” Jana looked out at the Glass Slipper mansion as it came into view. “I mean, I wouldn’t have, except I got a message saying she wanted us both here and . . . Wow. What a place, huh?”
“Yeah,” Grady said on a small sigh. “‘What a place,’ indeed.” He hadn’t minded the company. In fact, he’d been relieved when Jana had called this morning and asked to tag along. He’d been dreading this day since he’d dropped Lucy off two weeks earlier.
It had been two of the longest weeks of his life. The funding for his latest project was stalled while State and the Department of Defense argued about God-only-knew-what this time. He’d been expecting—counting on—being ass-deep in nanotechnology and defense applications for liquid memory. Instead, he’d had more free time on his hands than he’d had since taking this job.
Plenty of free time. To think. About Lucy. About what she was doing to herself. About why she was doing it.
About fucking Jason Prescott.
Sure, intellectually he knew that Jason was peripheral to this venture Lucy had undertaken. He was merely a symbol. But there was no law saying Grady couldn’t hate the symbol.
“Check that trio out,” Jana was saying as he coasted around the circular drive toward the stone walkway leading to the house.
“Ah,” Grady said, as he watched the three diversely coiffed older ladies emerge through the stained-glass doors and pause on the porch at the top of the stairs. “Those would be Lucy’s fairy godmothers.”
Jana half stifled a snorted giggle. “Honestly? You said they were an interesting bunch, but wow, how different are they from one another? Hard to really picture them as makeover mavens.”
“True. But they have a hell of a track record.” When Jana shot him a considering look, he haltingly added, “Business section of the Post, you should read it sometime.”
She continued her considering gaze for a moment longer. “Yeah. Right. Because I don’t follow the news enough as it is.”
“Whether or not the Capitals have a hope in hell of making the Stanley Cup play-offs this season—or any season, really—is not news.”
Jana clutched her heart. “Blasphemer!” Then, when he grinned, she stuck her tongue out at him before turning back to the house. “Well, well, well. Maybe you know something I don’t.” She pointed. “That one didn’t turn out too badly.”
A tall woman with straight blonde hair emerged from the house and paused next to the godmothers. Even without the tottering high heels, she towered over two of them, and had an inch or two easy on the third.
Grady watched the young woman because, well, he was male. Her legs went on forever, the fitted pin-striped blazer, short suit skirt, and downright hormone-inciting come-fuck-me spikes merely enhancing nature’s gift. But if this was the result, he was all for enhancement.
She hugged the redheaded godmother the longest. Vivian dePalma, Grady recalled. Then, after another bit of chatting, turned toward the stairs.
“Good thing Lucy doesn’t have to watch supermodel there,” Jana said dryly. “She’d be in rehab before even leaving the joint.”
Grady only half listened to Jana. His heart had come to a complete stop and was presently lodged in his throat. It was a battle with the sick knot in his gut as to which might kill him first.
“She . . . ah, damn,” was all Grady managed.
“I can’t imagine why someone who looks like that thought she had to come here,” Jana said. “I mean, I know models can be vain and all, but how bad could she have looked befo—oh, my God.”
All Grady could do was nod dumbly. The testosterone side of him wanted to thump his chest and howl. His heart, on the other hand, wanted to splinter into a thousand tiny pieces.
“That can’t really be—” Jana broke off yet again, shaking her head wordlessly as the “supermodel” descended the porch stairs, her slender, elegant hand resting lightly on the railing.
“Lucy,” Grady groaned. Dear God. What had they done with his Lucy? And yet he couldn’t have dragged his gaze away from her under penalty of torture.
He’d have thought himself incapable of any movement, but when Jana started to open the car door, his hand flashed out and locked onto her arm. “Not yet.”
Jana shot him a surprised look, but even she couldn’t keep her eyes off the miracle presently walking toward them. “Why? My God! Look at her. I’m—it’s—she’s . . . I just can’t believe it,” she ended on a hushed note of awe.
“Yeah” was all he could mumble. “Me, either.”
Jana seemed to snap out of it then. Or so the sudden fist thwack she delivered to his chest would seem to indicate.
“Ow! What was that for?”
Jana turned on him. “You better not ruin this for her,” she said hurriedly as Lucy drew closer.
“What? What makes you think I’m not happy for her?”
Jana merely rolled her eyes. “Please. I didn’t say anything last week down on The Mall because your puppy-dog eyes beseeched me not to.”
Grady’s chest tightened even further. Oh, for Christ’s sake, she wasn’t going to do this now of all times, was she? “Jana, please.” He heard the begging note in his voice and didn’t give a damn how pathetic he sounded.
“Don’t worry. I haven’t said anything in all the years I’ve known you two, have I? I love you both, you know that. I know this is probably eating you up inside, just like I know it doesn’t have to if you’d just stand up for yourself and—”
“Jana,” he said, warning her.
She waved a hand. “God, of all the millions of ways I’d planned to talk to you about this, this was definitely not the place or time I’d have chosen. But it’s situation critical, dammit. You’re going to have to suck it up and realize that if you’re never going to stake a claim, then you sure as hell can’t keep her from figuring out how to go out and stake one of her own. She’s been unhappily alone long enough. If this is what she needs to believe in herself, well then, you’d damn well better—”
A tentative knock on the window had them both jumping around in their seats. Lucy waved at them, a big smile creasing her new face.
Only Grady noticed the nerves pinching the skin around her eyes. The eyes were still the same. His Lucy was still in there somewhere.
Rather than lower his window, he opened his door to get out. Jana was right, Lucy clearly was worried about introducing them to the new her. And since that was the role he’d cast himself into, it wasn’t fair to hold the final destruction of everything he’d held dear against her.
Only, when he swung his door open, it caught her off guard. She took a quick step back, then teetered dangerously on her heels.
Jana had climbed out of the other side, but she couldn’t clear the front of the car fast enough. Grady shrugged out of his seat belt and scooted out just in time to grab her arms and yank her forward before she went down.
The momentum shift bucked her forward so hard she plastered him back against his car . . . and herself all over him. From knee to chest they were perfectly aligned.
Lucy laughed self-consciously. “Miss Congeniality in the flesh,” she quipped, though there was still a hint of nervousn
ess in her expression. She struggled to get her balance, making Grady clench his teeth . . . and several other parts of his anatomy, in an effort not to react in a way even Lucy couldn’t possibly mistake.
“Sandra Bullock’s got nothing on you,” he said, hoping the raspy edge to his voice was mistaken for having the wind temporarily knocked out of him.
More like his common sense. He should be helping her straighten away from him, and he did have his hands on her elbows, with the intent to do exactly that. But his gaze was momentarily all caught up in hers, and for a second longer, he couldn’t do anything but stare.
“What have you done to yourself, Luce?” he murmured.
Her eyes widened a bit, and a tiny telltale blush bloomed on her expertly made-up cheeks. “You hate it, right?”
“I don’t know what I think.”
Jana was there, then, tugging her away. “I do,” she said, shooting Grady a sideways glare. “God, turn around so I can see all of you.”
Lucy did a little twist turn, only wobbling for a moment, then held her arms out to the side. “Can you believe it?”
Jana shook her head. “My little Lucy, all grown-up,” she said, her accompanying sniff only half teasing. She stepped closer and peered intently at Lucy’s face. “Nice makeup job. And your brows. Fantastic arch.” She brushed her fingers over them. “Are they stenciled on or what?”
Laughing self-consciously, Lucy batted Jana’s hand away. “No, they’re all mine, but with a little pencil.” She grabbed Jana’s arms and leaned in. “The real shocker is I put on my makeup myself today. Brows and all. And I only look partly like Frankenstein’s bride.”
Jana’s teasing smile faded. “Honey, you look amazing.” She brushed a hand over Lucy’s newly straightened and streaked hair. “My best bud is a hottie. Good thing I’m already taken or I’d be jealous as hell.”
Lucy snorted. “Yeah, I’ll be lucky if I make it home in this getup. I was out here practicing those front-porch stairs for an hour this morning so I wouldn’t humiliate myself in front of you guys.”
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