New Year's Eve Murder. Leslie Meier
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eye shadow?” This was a new one to Lucy.
“It would make you look like you’ve got conjunctivitis,” said Lurleen. “My three-year-old had it last week but, praise the Lord, I got it treated before it spread to the others.”
“It was a miracle, that’s what Mama said,” added Faith, nodding piously.
Lucy thought it would be more miraculous if the child hadn’t got conjunctivitis in the first place, but she was determined to be Miss Congeniality and held her tongue.
“Glitter,” declared Nadine, patting yet more powder on her nose. “Glitter everywhere.” She stopped, powder puff in midair, and sneezed. The compact flew across the room and landed at Elizabeth’s feet, releasing a fine dust of powder that settled around it on the floor.
Elizabeth hopped out of the chair and retrieved it, politely returning it to Nadine.
Nadine didn’t thank her but instead examined the compact for damage while continuing to throw out extreme suggestions. “Very, very dark lips. Almost black.”
“Sounds great,” said Elizabeth, brushing a bit of spilled powder off her hands and settling back in her chair. “Bring it on.”
“Me, too,” said Lucy, determined to play along.
“Trust me,” said Fiona, spinning the chair so Lucy’s back was to the mirror and reaching for a brush.
When they were finally allowed to see their reflections, Lucy was pleased to discover she still recognized herself. She even looked, she had to admit, improved in a subtle way, and she resolved to take a few minutes every morning to apply a bit of foundation and touch of mascara. She always wore lipstick but she now realized she hadn’t been using the right color. The natural brownish gloss Fiona had applied was a lot more flattering than the bright pink she had been wearing.
Fiona and Phyllis had released them from the chairs and were distributing pink and white striped gift bags when they heard the voices of the next group in the outer office. Nadine ignored it, interested only in the contents of the bags.
“What are you giving them?” she asked, pouting.
“A nice assortment of basic cosmetics,” said Phyllis, practically cringing with fear. “It was all donated. Mostly Urban Decay for the girls and Lancôme for the moms.”
“How come I didn’t know about this?”
“You’d have to ask Camilla. She sent them down.”
“Oh, all right then.” Nadine dismissed them with a wave of the arm, and they left the studio, but as the door closed behind them they could hear Nadine coughing.
Ginny and Amanda were standing in the office, waiting their turn in the studio along with Maria and Carmela. If Lucy had any doubts that the make-up was a success they were erased when she saw Maria and Ginny’s reaction. Both of them looked as if they’d like to kill her.
“You look fabulous, all of you,” cooed Carmela. “I hope they do the same for us.”
“I was pretty worried for a while there,” said Lurleen, who looked years younger now that the dark circles under her eyes were hidden and her cheeks were rosy. “They were talking about giving us war paint.”
Both Ginny and Maria seemed more than willing to don war paint, but before they could launch an offensive Lucy offered an olive branch. “They gave us gift bags,” she said, holding hers up.
Lurleen also offered her gift bag for inspection, but the newcomers were quickly shooed into the studio.
“Where to now?” wondered Lucy, pulling the schedule out of her bag.
“Photo, again,” said Faith. “For after photos.”
“Lord, give me strength,” prayed Lurleen.
“Amen,” said Lucy.
Chapter Five
FOODS THAT ACTUALLY TAKE OFF POUNDS!
When Pablo finally finished photographing their newly made-up faces, Lucy was tired and hungry. She never would have guessed that posing was such hard work and had new respect for the models whose pictures filled the fashion magazines every month. She also wondered how they managed to stay so thin since she had worked up quite an appetite.
So far, she decided, the makeover had been surprisingly stressful. Like Lurleen, she had expected to be petted and pampered, but instead she’d spent the morning enduring Pablo’s egotism, Camilla’s abusive temper, and Nadine’s rudeness. Add to that Elizabeth’s determination to starve herself and the competitive atmosphere created by the ten-thousand-dollar prize and she was more than ready for a break. Fortunately, she’d arranged to meet Samantha Blackwell for lunch and was looking forward to spending a relaxing hour or two reminiscing about college.
“It’s a working lunch,” said Elizabeth, reading from the well-worn Xerox schedule. “Deli sandwiches and a motivational speaker in the boardroom.”
Lucy stopped in her tracks. “But I have a lunch date with Sam,” protested Lucy. The true horror of her situation was slowly dawning. “She promised to make her fabulous brownies for me, the ones with chocolate chunks, pecans, and icing.”
“No way,” said Elizabeth, shaking her head. “It’s pastrami on rye with a big helping of team spirit.”
“They’ll never miss me.”
Elizabeth stamped her foot. “Mom! What about the contest? You can’t sneak away. You’ve got to participate to win. That’s what you’re always telling me. ‘Showing up is ninety percent of success.’ Right?”
Lucy hated it when her kids quoted her own words back at her, but she knew Elizabeth was right. She pulled out her cell phone and called Sam.
“I’m not surprised,” said Sam, when Lucy told her she couldn’t make it. “I figured they’d keep you busy. We’ll do it another time.”
“When?” wailed Lucy. “It’s been more than twenty years.”
“I know. It’s pathetic. But I have an idea.”
“Tell me.”
“Nope. It’s a surprise,” said Sam. “Enjoy your lunch.”
Nobody enjoyed the lunch. Lucy and Maria were the only ones who actually ate the oversized deli sandwiches which contained at least a pound of salty, highly seasoned meat. Lurleen regarded hers with suspicion, declaring she preferred white bread and mayonnaise to rye and mustard. Cathy followed the Atkins diet, eating all of the meat and none of the bread, and the others ignored the sandwiches entirely and nibbled on the pickles instead. The motivational speaker was a disappointment, too, offering a single message: You can choose to be happy or sad, so why not choose to be happy? She said it various ways, of course, but each rephrasing boiled down to the same idea. Most disappointing to Lucy, however, was the fact that none of the editors had bothered to show up.
“I could have gone to Sam’s,” she complained, as they boarded the bus that was taking them to the TV studio.
“Shh,” cautioned Elizabeth, as the editors began filing onto the bus.
Lucy watched with interest as Phyllis followed Nadine, the beauty editor, carrying her assortment of bags like some sort of native bearer on a safari. She waited until Nadine had taken her place in a window seat and then arranged her bags on the seat beside her before leaving the bus. Phyllis wasn’t going to the show, and the other editors Lucy had met were also conspicuously absent. There was no sign of Pablo or the art director, Nancy Glass, or the accessories editor, Deb Shertzer. Instead, Camilla took the front seat, accompanied by a large, almost mannish woman with very short hair wearing a severe gray pantsuit.
Lucy listened to the buzz in the bus. “Who’s that?” “Camilla isn’t…?” “Oh no, I don’t think so.” “It would be ironic….”