Blossom Street Bundle. Debbie MacomberЧитать онлайн книгу.
disguise her interest, but she didn’t fool Jacqueline.
“We’d start with your hair.” Jacqueline examined the purple-tinted ends with a critical eye and resisted the urge to cringe. That dreadful color had to go. Motioning with her hand, she offered a few suggestions. “Get it cut and styled. Perhaps dye it a different color.”
“Only if I like it,” the girl said warily.
“Of course!”
“Any color I want?”
“Within reason.”
Alix made a careless movement with her shoulders. “I suppose that would be all right.” She acted as if she was doing Jacqueline a favor. Two months ago Jacqueline would have taken offense at that but now she knew it was simply posturing.
“I’d like to take you to my fashion consultant and—”
Alix was shaking her head even before Jacqueline had finished the sentence. “I don’t need any advice on how to dress.”
“Whatever you say, but I do think we should get you a couple of new outfits.”
Still Alix hesitated, but then she gave a halfhearted nod. “Your treat?”
“Of course.”
“I guess it’s okay. When do you want to do this?” She asked as if her social calendar was full.
“Soon.” Jacqueline set aside her knitting and retrieved her cell phone. “I’ll call Desiree right now. She’s the best hairdresser in town. It sometimes takes weeks to get an appointment.”
“Okay.” Alix couldn’t hide her eagerness now. She sat up straight, nibbling on her lower lip.
“I need an appointment with Desiree ASAP,” Jacqueline said, hoping the receptionist caught the hint of urgency in her voice. Desiree was a top beautician and the prices she charged were enough to perm Jacqueline’s hair without chemicals. Still, she was worth every penny because of the miracles she performed. All the women at the country club went to her, and if they didn’t, they wanted to.
Jacqueline waited impatiently while the receptionist put her on hold. It seemed forever before she returned. “Desiree says she’ll stay late this evening if you can be here by four-thirty.”
“Four-thirty?” She glanced at Alix, who nodded. “We’ll be there,” Jacqueline crowed triumphantly. She turned off the cell and placed it inside her purse. She felt certain that Alix didn’t realize her good fortune. Jacqueline had to book her haircuts a month in advance.
Lydia was back, and although she hadn’t heard a lot of the conversation, she seemed to understand what was happening and nodded in approval. Jacqueline was on a mission now, confident that with a change in wardrobe and a decent haircut she could turn Alix into an attractive young woman. A thrill of excitement went through her. This was going to be fun.
As soon as the knitting session was over, Jacqueline took Alix to Nordstrom for a new outfit. She purchased her own designer clothes at the Seattle-based department store, where one particular sales clerk had been in charge of Jacqueline’s wardrobe for years.
Victoria took one look at Alix and immediately went to work. Jacqueline accompanied the girl into the dressing room and was shocked at her lack of proper intimate apparel. She insisted on new bras and panties first, and none of those ridiculous and indecent thongs, either.
Alix made a fuss, but it didn’t last long. Still, while Jacqueline might have won that battle, Alix was the undisputed victor when it came to the war. She refused to even try on the St. John knitted suit or anything else Victoria delivered.
Considering the limited time available today, Jacqueline had to be content with buying Alix good-quality underwear. Before she was through, she swore she’d get her into something tasteful.
Unfortunately, the trip to the hairdresser didn’t go much better. Desiree gasped at Alix’s purple-tinged hair and started swearing in French. Even after years of high school and college French classes, Jacqueline couldn’t understand what the woman said. But judging by the tone of her remarks, it was preferable not to attempt a translation.
Jacqueline sat in the waiting area and sipped coffee while a verbal skirmish occurred in the background. Fortunately, most of the shop’s elite clientele had already departed; otherwise, their ears would’ve been assaulted by the ongoing exchange between Alix and Desiree.
Ninety minutes after they arrived, Alix flew to the front of the salon as if she’d just been released from prison. Jacqueline hardly recognized her. Gone was the tar-black hair with the eggplant-purple highlights. Instead, Alix’s hair was a soft shade of brown with a reddish tinge that was similar to the yarn she’d chosen for Paul’s scarf.
“Alix,” she said, coming to her feet. Once again, Desiree had performed a miracle. Not only had she colored Alix’s hair but she’d styled it in a froth of curls.
“I hate it,” the girl cried as she ran her fingers through her hair, disarranging it. “This isn’t me.”
“No, my dear,” Jacqueline said patiently, “this is a new you.”
For a moment it seemed Alix was about to burst into tears. “I look like … like one of the Brady Bunch,” she moaned.
“You look lovely.”
“Greg,” she cried. “I look like Greg from the Brady Bunch.”
“You’re being silly,” Jacqueline said sharply.
“I’m not! Everyone’s going to laugh at me.”
The girl was making absolutely no sense. “I’m sure you’re wrong.”
“I know you meant well, but this just isn’t me…. It just isn’t me.”
Without a word of gratitude, Alix stormed out of the salon, leaving Jacqueline speechless.
“Where did you ever meet such a girl?” Desiree asked, shaking her head.
“It’s a long story,” Jacqueline murmured, discouraged now. She’d wanted to do something nice for Alix, something kind to show her appreciation, and she’d failed.
When she got back to the house, she discovered Reese in the kitchen getting a beer from the fridge.
“Are you okay?” he asked as she hurried past him to her own area of the house.
Jacqueline was surprised at his question. They hadn’t spoken, other than to exchange basic household information, for days now. Another time she might have pretended not to hear, but tonight she was hurt and confused, and couldn’t hide it.
She didn’t know how her good intentions toward Alix could have gone so badly awry. Sitting down at the kitchen table, she accepted the glass of wine Reese brought her and launched into an explanation of her adventure with Alix.
“I just don’t know what I did wrong!” Jacqueline said hopelessly.
“How old is Alix?” Reese asked.
Jacqueline wasn’t sure. “Early twenties, I suppose.”
“You were trying to make her into another you, Jacquie.”
“I most certainly was not,” she cried, angry that Reese was so ready to find fault with her. She should’ve known better than to confide in him.
Then, at once, she realized he was right. She’d taken Alix to her salesclerk and her hairdresser. She met his gaze and slowly nodded. “Perhaps I was.”
“Next time, ask Tammie Lee to give you a few suggestions.”
“Tammie Lee,” Jacqueline repeated and automatically shook her head. “She couldn’t do any better than me.”
“Maybe not, but she’s closer to Alix’s age and might have a few ideas.”
“I