Cinderella's Big Sky Groom. Christine RimmerЧитать онлайн книгу.
and made her lashes seem longer, her eyes a much deeper blue.
Even little Sara had been allowed to come near again by then. “You look so beautiful, Miss Taylor,” she said, sighing. “Just like I said. Like Cinderella. All you need is your ball gown and your glass slippers. And your prince. You’re really going to need a prince. He can take you to the ball and you can dance until midnight—when both hands are on the twelve. And then, when midnight comes and your horses are just about ready to turn into mouses again, you can run down the palace steps so fast that one of your glass slippers will fall off and the prince will have a way to find you later, when—”
“Sara,” said Danielle tenderly. She gave her daughter the zip-up-your-lip signal and the child subsided.
Finally Kim took the headband away and removed the hairdresser’s cape. She brushed Lynn’s hair back into place, spritzed on a light mist of holding spray. Then she dabbed perfume along the curve of her neck and at each wrist.
“What is that?” Lynn asked, sniffing.
“Poison.”
“What?”
Kim chuckled. “This perfume is called Poison. Deadly name, killer scent.”
Lynn sniffed again. “It is nice.”
“Would I steer you wrong?”
“Don’t look yet,” Danielle commanded when Kim set the amethyst-colored bottle of scent aside.
Kim showed Lynn a diagram—a drawing of a woman’s face, marked in the places where foundation, blusher, eye and lip color should be applied. She also offered a small box of makeup samples. “These are the products I think you should use. I’ve done you for evening. For daytime, just tone down the blusher, go light on foundation and skip the shimmery eye shadow. Go with that subtle blue-gray.”
Lynn murmured her thanks and tried to turn toward the mirror.
Danielle grabbed the arm of the chair. “Not yet.” She held out Lynn’s brown shoulder bag. “Put that stuff away first, so you won’t forget it.”
So Lynn put the diagram and the box of samples into her purse. “Now may I see?”
“Soon.” Danielle produced a red scarf.
Lynn raised a skeptical eyebrow at that scarf. “This is getting very silly.”
“Indulge us.” Danielle tied the scarf over Lynn’s eyes—carefully, in order not to muss her makeup or her hair. “Now come on. Give me your hand.”
Lynn felt Danielle’s fingers close around hers.
“Step clear of the footrest,” Danielle instructed. “Good. Now, come this way….”
Lynn knew where Danielle was leading her—to the small back room, where her red dress and red shoes were waiting. She followed obediently, trusting the clasp of her friend’s soft hand.
When they reached their destination, Danielle said, “Wait right here.” She released Lynn’s hand. Lynn heard the door close. Then Danielle returned to her. She helped Lynn remove her cardigan sweater, her blouse and her wool skirt.
“I’m feeling really pampered about now,” Lynn said as Danielle pulled the kitten-soft cashmere sweater dress over her head.
Danielle gave a low, musical laugh. “That’s the point.”
“I’m sure glad you came to Whitehorn.”
“I kind of like the place myself.”
Danielle had moved to town two years before, right around the time Lynn’s father had died. Lynn had met her at the Whitehorn library, where Danielle had found a twenty-hour-a-week job right away. They’d liked each other on sight. The friendship had just seemed to happen, so naturally.
And they’d grown even closer the past two months, with Sara in Lynn’s class and Danielle taking on the job of Room Mom. Danielle often came in during class time to help out with special projects. She also tended to linger after school when she came to pick up Sara, helping Lynn with her room displays, with restocking art supplies and planning class events.
“I don’t want you ever to move away,” Lynn said softly.
“Don’t worry. I don’t intend to.” Danielle’s voice sounded brisk, but Lynn didn’t miss the undertone of sadness.
Her friend was thinking about her husband, probably—the husband who had never been to Whitehorn, at least not as far as Lynn knew.
Danielle was now seeking a divorce. She was always vague about the details, would only say that it hadn’t worked out. But Lynn sensed her friend still loved the man. From the few things Danielle had said about him, Lynn knew that once Danielle had been a very happily married woman. A woman deeply in love.
What would that be like? Lynn wondered as Danielle gently pushed her down onto the small cot in the corner and knelt at her feet, to slide off her brown flats and slip on the red shoes.
What would that be like?
To fall, as the saying went, truly, madly, deeply in love? Would it be worth the price, if a woman ended up like Danielle, starting over in another town, without the man she loved so much at her side?
Lynn reached out. Her hand touched Danielle’s silky hair. Within the darkness of the blindfold, Lynn pictured Danielle’s face, looking up at her, hazel eyes bright.
“A good friend. The best,” Lynn whispered.
And Danielle whispered back, “You get what you give.”
You get what you give. True words. But not absolute. Knowing Danielle, Lynn couldn’t imagine she’d ever given her husband a moment’s heartache. And yet, clearly, heartache had been his ultimate gift to her.
Maybe it was better to be like Lynn. Still a virgin on her twenty-fourth birthday. With no prospects of “truly, madly, deeply” anywhere in sight.
Then again, Danielle did have Sara. The adorable little chatterbox must go a long way toward making up for the heartache.
“Ready to see your new look?” Danielle asked. All traces of sadness had vanished from her voice. Now she sounded excited, anticipatory.
“I hope it’s just half as good as you’re acting like it is.”
“Only one way to find out.”
Lynn felt a sort of shimmer go through her body. A shimmer of anxiety—and of giddy expectancy. She held out her hand to be led back to the main room of the salon.
There was a full-length mirror on the wall opposite the door to the street. Danielle made Lynn wait, still blindfolded, while Gracie moved a potted fern out of the way.
Then, at last, Danielle untied the scarf, whipping it off with a magician’s dramatic flourish. “Voilà!”
Everyone, including little Sara, began clapping and squealing.
“Do you love it?”
“Isn’t it perfect?”
“You look incredible.”
“Miss Taylor, you are so pretty!”
Lynn could only stare.
It was…magic. Real-life magic.
She didn’t look like some glamorous, over-made-up stranger, as she had secretly feared that she might. She looked…exactly like herself.
Only better. A hundred times better. Everything was…enhanced. Made brighter. As if she had somehow been fuzzy before. A picture out of focus, now brought stunningly clear.
So very clear. Her skin glowed. Her hair shone. Her eyes were bigger, brighter, bluer than blue.
And the rest of her…
She couldn’t believe it.
She