Sleeping with Beauty (8 page)

Mercedes and Vivian retreated down the hall, heads together, but Lucy couldn’t make out whatever they were whispering about. She had the distinct impression it was about her.

Aurora put her hand on Lucy’s arm. “You’re going to be magnificent, you know,” she said gently. Her smile grew and the fairy-godmother twinkle returned to her eyes. “I always have a feeling for these things.”

“Thank—thank you,” Lucy said, surprised to realize how badly she wanted to believe the older woman. Where was the cynic inside her when she needed her most?

“Don’t worry so much. Trust us,” she said, as if she’d read Lucy’s thoughts. “You’re right. We are the best. Do what we ask of you, and you’ll see I’m right.” She grinned and it almost looked a bit mischievous. “I usually am. Just don’t tell Vivian. She’ll want to think this is all her idea.”

“‘This’?” Lucy asked, beginning to wonder just what kind of “tea” Aurora had been sipping.

“It’s exciting, isn’t it? You’ve taken destiny into your own hands, dear.”

That proclamation probably wasn’t intended to fill her with dread.

She was gently nudged into the office. Aurora remained out in the hallway. The soft
click
of the door shutting behind her echoed in her mind as loudly as the jarring sound of a jail cell clanking shut.

Don’t worry so much.

“Sure,” she muttered under her breath. “Easy for you to say.”

With a deep breath, pasting a fake confident smile on her face, she squared her shoulders and prepared herself to take her destiny like a big girl.

Chapter
4
                                                                                                                                       

L
ucy rubbed damp palms on the sides of her khaki trousers and pushed up her glasses. Day two at Glass Slipper and she’d yet to have the first eyebrow hair plucked.

She twisted the antique crystal knob and opened yet another walnut-and-stained-glass door. This time, instead of one of the godmothers, or Audrey, her personal cheerleader, there was a shrink waiting for her on the other side. Her purpose today was to delve into the reasons behind Lucy’s desire to change her appearance.

Oh, goody. It just kept getting better and better.

Who wanted to spend their morning talking about why they were a perennial wallflower? Wasn’t it obvious what kind of help she needed? Did they really have to sit around and discuss it?

“Welcome, Lucy,” a familiar voice greeted her cheerfully.

Lucy stopped short just inside the door, surprised. “Aurora, I mean, Ms. Favreaux.”

Aurora lifted one perfectly stenciled brow.

“Aurora,” Lucy corrected herself again, gave a nervous smile. “I, uh, you surprised me. I thought I was meeting with Dr. Sullivan.” She leaned in and looked around to see if maybe this was to be another one of those panel type of discussions. But Aurora was the only one in the beautifully appointed room.

“Phoebe was called away. Family matter.” She smiled and that reassuring godmother twinkle emerged once again.

Assuming Phoebe was Dr. Sullivan, Lucy tried not to collapse in immediate relief. But all she could think was,
Oh, thank God, no alien mind probe today!
“What a shame, I’m sor-sorry,” she stuttered, the lie not coming easily. “Has the appointment been rescheduled?” She did her best not to look too hopeful.

Aurora motioned for Lucy to sit down, the stack of bracelets on her wrist jangling at the motion. “Why don’t you sit down.”

Not an encouraging sign. Lucy stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. She’d expected some kind of tasteful office decor geared toward exerting a calming influence on those forced to enter. Instead, it looked more like the sitting room off an elaborate boudoir.

It was small, or perhaps it was the illusion created by the fact that the walls were covered in a wine-colored linen with a raised-velvet fleur-de-lis print. The floor was carpeted with two colorful, densely woven Oriental rugs, topped with a collection of overstuffed, brocade-covered, antique chairs, all grouped to face one another around a beautifully restored teak tea table. Lighting was soft, provided by several standing lamps, each with dark cream-colored antique shades and elaborate pull chains sporting crystal knobs at the end.

The sensual decor exuded a warmth and coziness that went at least a short way toward soothing her nerves. Definitely more so than in the clinical feng shui setup she’d expected to find.

Aurora, dressed in a burgundy-and-gold silk caftan, was seated in the chair with the highest back, leaving Lucy to choose between two other chairs of slightly less stature. A light tea had been set on the table in a pretty silver service that Lucy did her best not to bump into as she chose the seat most directly across from Aurora.

“I hope you don’t mind the last-minute substitution, dear,” Aurora began, as she leaned forward and poured two cups of tea with the sort of elegant grace Lucy could only dream of having. “We didn’t want to delay the beginning of your program here, so I offered to step in and conduct this initial discussion.”

Lucy was unable to hide her surprise. “You’re going to conduct the session?”

Aurora’s smile was self-deprecating and quite charming. “Not that I have a degree, but I think we can cover the basics well enough. I’m sure Phoebe will fill in all the gaps when you see her next.”

“‘Next’?” Lucy blurted before she could stop herself. Did they think she was in such bad shape that she needed a battery of discussions with a shrink? All because she said she wanted to be bulletproof? Maybe it had been a poor choice of words. Did they think she was going to go back and mow down her evil classmates or something?

Aurora handed her a cup and saucer, her serene smile easily in place. “Why don’t we just focus on our little talk today, hm?”

Lucy took the cup and saucer, the china pieces clattering harder against each other the more she struggled to keep them steady. With an apologetic smile, she finally placed the set on the table between them. “It’s such a nice set. No point in ruining it.”

Aurora graciously made no comment as she settled herself back in her chair. When the silence spun out as the older woman sipped her tea, Lucy realized it was up to her to start things off. It felt like a test. She gave tests all the time. It was what teachers did. That didn’t mean she enjoyed taking them.

Feeling a little desperate, she nodded at the framed prints on the walls. Each one featured a door. Some open, some shut. Some fancy, some austere. Garden doors, castle doors, random doors. “Interesting photographs,” she said, by way of nothing except to delay this talk as long as possible. “Did you take these yourself?”

Aurora shifted her gaze, too, and her smile softened as true affection lit her eyes. “My late husband, Way, took those.” She looked to Lucy. “He was in politics, and we traveled often together. These were sort of a hobby of his.” She looked back at the prints. “I like them. It always makes me remember that life is an adventure. Doors will close. Others will open.” She shot Lucy a fast smile. “And you never know what’s behind the next one.”

“Good philosophy,” Lucy said, feeling her own mouth curve in response. Despite the general intimidation she’d felt since setting foot on the perfectly manicured grounds, she’d been drawn to Aurora from the moment they’d met. Soft and a bit ethereal, with that twinkle thing she had going on, she seemed to embody the fairy-godmother spirit.

“So,” Aurora began, her teacup and saucer balanced perfectly on top of her caftan-covered knee. “Why don’t we talk a little bit about your reunion.”

“Aurora,” Lucy began warily, only to be interrupted.

“I know the visit with Dr. Sullivan wasn’t something you expected,” Aurora broke in, her face wreathed in an understanding smile. “But you need to trust we know what we’re doing. In fact, you’d be surprised to know how helpful these little sessions are for us. By asking you some questions and chatting a bit about a few things, we’ll be able to build the program that will provide you with the greatest benefit.”

“So this is standard? I didn’t see it mentioned in the literature.”

“No,” Aurora admitted, “it’s not ‘standard.’ We don’t have ‘standard’ plans here. Every person is unique, and so are their concerns. We approach each of our guests as individuals and plan their program accordingly.”

“Is it really all that complicated?”

Aurora took another measured sip. “Are you saying your reasons for wanting to attend your reunion as something of a knockout are simple?”

Lucy shrugged, feeling another twinge of discomfort.
Chatting a bit, my ass.
Aurora might have the smile of a fairy godmother, but those faded blue eyes told the real story. And they were shrewd. “If we’re going to get existential, then no, of course not. On one plane, even the simplest decision is a resolution reached after assessing complex layers of motivation and desire.” Aurora didn’t appear to be impressed by her academic bullshit. Rats. “But what I want here is pretty basic. Both the motivation and desire are, I would imagine, fairly common. I wasn’t one of the swans in high school. Far from it. I’ve long since accepted that.” So much for keeping her school issues out of the conversation, too. “But when I got the reunion notice and your magazine article in the same day, I figured, why not get a little outside help, scrape off a layer or two of ugly duckling, and go back with my head held high? Trust me, I won’t hold anyone at Glass Slipper accountable if I don’t get the reunion-queen crown. I just want to . . .”
Wow them. Blow their collective snotty minds. Make an entrance, dammit.
“Fit in,” she finished lamely.

Aurora’s gaze grew more attentive. “When you were talking with us during our initial visit, I believe you used the word ‘bulletproof.’ What exactly did you mean by that?”

Lucy sank back in her chair, pulled into the conversation despite the little voice in her head urging her to
flee now, flee fast!
Aurora’s twinkling gaze was like some kind of tractor beam, compelling her testimony as if she were under some kind of self-improvement oath. “It’s not about being a knockout.” Lucy adjusted her reliable, if not-so-trendy, wire-rim glasses and gestured to her pleated khakis, pinstriped blouse, and Naturalizer sandals so boring they weren’t even on the cutting edge of schoolmarm fashion. “I mean, who are we kidding here?” She sighed. “I just want—hope—to feel confident enough so that when I walk in the door, the whispers and comments won’t shake me.”

“It’s been ten years. Perhaps your classmates have matured.”

“With the invitation came an invite to join an e-mail reunion loop. I signed up to see what was going on, who was attending, that sort of thing.”

Aurora made one of those hmming sounds. “And from what you’ve read, you feel like they would still find such behavior amusing?”

Lucy’s lips quirked. “Not all of them. But you know what they say about leopards and spots. Some have used the intervening years to elevate their catty behavior to an art form.”

“You don’t have any interest in renewing ties with any of them?”

“God, no.” Lucy waved her hand. “I know what you’re going to say. Why go through all this for a bunch of losers who aren’t even relevant to my life?”

Aurora didn’t respond to that. Instead, she said, “You said you want to be a knockout. And that you want to fit in. Do you think you need the former to get the latter?”

Lucy shrugged. “It’s a start. But I don’t want to fit in the way you mean it. It’s not about acceptance into their tribe. I don’t want to actually
be
one of them.”

Aurora’s eyes lit up a bit. “Then this is about going back and getting revenge, hm? Do you want to prove to them that you’re worthy of their acceptance, only to reject it when it’s offered?”

Lucy opened her mouth to deny it, then stopped, reflected for a moment. “Maybe a little of both.”

“You’re very honest with yourself.” Her smile widened. “That’s good.”

Lucy lifted a shoulder, not quite sure how to respond to that.

“Wanting revenge is human, if not always healthy.”

“It’s not like I’m fixated on it or anything.”

Aurora’s smile turned knowing. “I know. It’s . . . complicated, isn’t it?”

Hoist by my own petard.

“Yes. But I don’t see how telling you all the sordid details will really impact my two-week stay here. Just teach me how to do my hair, put on my makeup, give me some remedial fashion help, and make sure I don’t trip over my own two feet. I’ll be more than happy.”

“What have you read about Glass Slipper, Inc.?”

“What do you mean? I read your magazine occasionally. I know you do makeovers. That you’re considered the best in the business.” Lucy shot her a self-deprecating smile. “I figured that’s what it was going to take. Your two-week program sounded like it was the kind of all-around intensive program I’d need. A kind of makeover camp.”

“Have you heard the phrase ‘life makeover’?”

“I know that’s what you call what it is you do here. And I know you do a lot more than help make ugly ducklings into swans, but I don’t need all that. I don’t need help getting a better job or finding a husband. I just want to get through one night looking like someone who has her act together. Unshakable.”

“Bulletproof,” Aurora said.

“Exactly. And honestly, I am realistic about all this. Short of applying for
Extreme Makeover,
I know my improvement options here are limited.”

“What do you think about the phrase ‘Beauty comes from the inside’?”

Lucy snorted. “I think that no one cares about Pam Anderson’s insides. But I know what you’re really asking. And sure, some people might not be conventionally attractive and yet they are still compelling. I think that comes from having a certain level of self-confidence that they have their act together.”

“And do you think those people you went to high school with all have their acts together?”

“Of course not. And I realize that rather than finding solace in like recognizing like, they feel compelled to confirm the status of their peer group by denigrating all those who they feel don’t measure up.”

“So maybe they’re the ones who need their head examined. Not you.”

Lucy smiled a little. “You said it, I didn’t.”

Aurora sat forward in her chair and set her cup and saucer back on the table. “I’m happy with the progress we made today.” She slid a small spiral-bound notebook out from the folds of her caftan.

Lucy recognized it as the chart Audrey had begun for her earlier.

“I see you have a session first thing in the morning,” she said, tapping the schedule with a long fingernail. “So we’ll schedule you in at ten.” She looked up and smiled. “Phoebe should be back by then.”