“But you need to go to the spa, get your hair done, get your makeup done.”
Anne’s heart skipped a beat. “I couldn’t do that. I’ve never had my makeup done. I don’t even wear much makeup. And I wouldn’t know where to go. Anyway, it would cost too much.”
“I have a connection, a friend who’s just getting started in the business. She’s great, but she needs publicity. If she could just post your picture to advertise, she’ll give you a great deal, I’m sure of it.”
“Maybe. But I don’t really have time. We’ve got a lot to do tomorrow—”
“Nope, you’re taking a personal leave day tomorrow. I’ll wrap up all the details for the event. I’ve done it by myself before.”
“But won’t Mr. Gherring be mad?”
“Gherring will be so busy with meetings he probably won’t notice. But if he asks, I’ll just tell him you had a family emergency.”
“But that would
be a lie.”
“No, it’s true. You are part of a family—you’re the mom. And this is an emergency.”
Anne’s cell phone sounded a musical refrain of a classic Joe Walsh song about a fast Maserati. Anne struggled to answer the call with her paraffin-dipped hands in plastic bags, trying vainly not to disturb the green mud on her face. “Hey Charlie, I can’t talk for long. I’m in the middle of a spa treatment to make me beautiful, although it seems to be doing the opposite. I look quite frightful.”
“So you’re spending the day getting ready for the big date with the French playboy? And tonight, Emily says, you’re wearing Giselle?”
“Yes, Katie came over last night. She took one look at Giselle and insisted I wear her tonight. I thought my red one might be better.”
“Ughh, Mom. That dress was outdated twenty years ago, which is probably the last time you wore it.”
“Classics never go out of style.”
“I guess that about says it all, because that dress is definitely not a classic. Trust me, Mom. Didn’t Emily and I tell you to leave the red one at home? Anyway, you’ll look great in Giselle. I’m glad I have your genes, so I’ll still look hot when I’m old like you.”
“Eh-hem! Old like me?”
“Sorry, you know I don’t think you’re old.” Charlie laughed. “But you do look pretty good for the mom of a twenty-three-year-old.”
“I appreciate the sentiment, ’cause right now I feel pretty ugly. But I do feel pampered. I already had a hot rock massage, and my hands and feet have been rubbed and seasoned and dipped in wax, and I have a goopy mask on my face. I feel like a turkey that’s getting ready to go in the oven.”
Charlie cracked up. “Now I have this picture in my head of a big stuffed turkey with your head on it. Are you getting your hair cut?”
“Evidently, I’m getting a total makeover, complete with a haircut and some highlights. Josie says they will ‘blend with the gray hairs.’ But what I’m really worried about is the shoes for tonight.”
“Aren’t you wearing those super sexy black strappy sandals Emily gave you? They go perfectly with Giselle, and they are sooooo cute.”
“Yes but the heels are sooooo high. And I’m sooooo clumsy.”
“Yep, you are a bit clumsy. I forgot what you looked like trying to walk in those heels. But you just need practice. Nobody is born with the ability to walk in spike heels.”
Anne squinted one eye as she considered practicing. “That might work, or I could just wear my black flats.”
“No way. That’s the reason Emily and I bought that dress, remember? It’s extra long. You have to wear heels or you’ll walk all over it. And you’re shorter than both of us. Here’s what you do… carry the shoes until you’re in the taxi. You can hold on to Henri for balance while you’re at the party until you get to a chair.”
“Fine, I’ll just cling to Henri tonight. I can think of worse things.”
“I can’t wait for a report. Get someone to take a picture of you and Henri and text it to us.”
“I’ll do it. I feel like I’m getting ready to go to prom.”
“It’s more like you’re Cinderella going to the ball with the prince.”