Christmas With The Single Dad. Sarah Morgan
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direction. ‘My mother loves to dress up for dinner. She’d have us do it every night if she could.’
‘But while I’m here I content myself with once or twice a week,’ Verity said with a sweet smile. ‘You don’t mind, do you, Nicola?’
She was to be included? She remembered the deal she’d made with Cade. ‘Not at all.’
‘I think it’s nice for Ella and Holly. I don’t want them growing up into barbarian tomboys. I hope they can outride, out-muster and out-run every male on the property, but I want them to have nice manners while they’re doing it. And while it might be seven hundred kilometres to the nearest shopping mall, that doesn’t mean they should be deprived of the delights of nice clothes and dressing up.’
‘Don’t worry, Mum—’ Cade dropped a kiss to the top of Verity’s head ‘—for as long as you’re around, you have a more than willing disciple in my avaricious eldest daughter.’
As if she knew he was talking about her, Ella lifted her big blue eyes and said, ‘I’m wearing my yellow dress tonight.’
‘And you’ll look like a princess,’ he informed her.
Nicola bit her lip. What on earth was she going to wear?
Cade seized the last sandwich and headed for the back door. He turned as he pushed it open. ‘But in return for such a generous display of male tolerance, I want to enlist everyone’s help in putting up the Christmas lights tomorrow afternoon.’
‘Of course, darling,’ his mother said.
‘Not getting me up a ladder,’ Harry muttered.
‘Do we have lots of lights, Daddy?’ Ella asked, her face glowing with excitement.
‘Trillions,’ he assured her, his eyes suddenly twinkling as they met Nicola’s for the briefest of moments. And then he was gone.
Nicola, Verity and Dee spent the afternoon primping and preening. Dee set Verity’s hair in hot rollers. Verity coloured Dee’s hair and while the timer was set for the colour to take, she cut Nicola’s hair. Unlike at a hairdressing salon, there was no large mirror for Nicola to watch and marvel as the deed was done. Instead, she sat on a chair on the shady side of the veranda, a towel firmly clasped at her throat, while Verity snipped away.
She was aware of an enormous amount of hair falling to the ground. She swallowed as a particularly long strand caught on her arm. Oh, good Lord, how much was Verity cutting off? She’d be bald!
She was aware of a growing sense of lightness. She didn’t know if she liked it or not.
‘There, all done.’ Verity moved in front of her, lifting Nicola’s chin with one finger to survey her with a critical eye. ‘Perfect! Now, don’t look down to see how much is gone. It’ll only make your stomach clench with nerves. It’s lovely, trust me.’
Nicola didn’t have much choice but to do exactly that. It was far too late to put the hair back. But she couldn’t help glancing down at the hair that had collected around her all the same and, as Verity had predicted, her stomach clenched.
The older woman swept the hair off the edge of the veranda and into the garden below. ‘It’s wonderful for the roses,’ she confided.
Nicola didn’t bother telling her she was sweeping them into the agapanthus rather than the roses.
Verity and Dee wouldn’t let her look in the mirror when they returned to Verity’s suite of rooms with its enormous bathroom. Verity put highlights in her hair and Nicola’s stomach clenched even tighter. What if they turned out brassy orange or some shade of ghastly? She wanted a new image, she hungered for a new image, but …
What if, after all this work, she still looked like an overweight frump? What if she couldn’t change? What if she really was a failure and a doormat and—?
Her stomach swirled. Bile rose in her throat. To take her mind off her doubts, she painted Dee and Verity’s nails. Dee chose hot pink. Verity chose scarlet. Nicola painted her own nails gold. It seemed … Christmassy. And she had a deal to keep.
They talked fashion. Nicola confessed to having packed only one nice dress and a pair of black trousers that, at a pinch, she could dress up.
Dee’s laptop was promptly brought out and Nicola was introduced to the joys of online shopping. She ordered clothes she’d have never bought except for Dee and Verity’s urgings, their pronouncements that this top or that skirt or dress would be perfect for her. They were both so stylish and the clothes were oh-so-pretty that Nicola gulped and decided to trust them. By the time they were finished she was several hundred dollars poorer.
‘They’ll be here within a week,’ Dee said, rubbing her hands together.
Oh, good Lord, what had she done?
With a defiant toss of her head, she unclenched her hands and relaxed her shoulders. She didn’t have a wedding to pay for any more and a girl was entitled to the occasional treat, right? Dee and Verity didn’t look the least bit guilty and they’d spent as much money as she had. It wouldn’t hurt her to emulate them a bit more.
Poised, confident, self-possessed. She repeated the litany silently to herself as her hair was rinsed and blow-dried.
Verity stepped back with a wide smile. ‘Okay, darling, time for the grand unveiling.’
Nicola’s stomach immediately cramped. She did her best to keep the voice in her head, the voice so like her mother’s, which criticized and nagged and told her she’d never measure up, quiet as Verity and Dee led her to a mirror.
She lowered her eyes, dragged in a deep breath and then forced her gaze upwards.
Her jaw dropped.
She lifted a hand to touch her hair.
Her eyes filled with tears. ‘You’ve made me look pretty,’ she whispered.
‘Darling.’ Verity put an arm around her shoulders and squeezed, beaming at her in the mirror. ‘You are beautiful. And you were before all of this.’
No, she hadn’t been pretty before. But now …
She couldn’t believe the transformation. Her chestnut hair was sleek and shiny, the lighter highlights bringing out the colour of her eyes and complementing her skin tone.
When she shook her head, her hair swished about her in a light and flirty perfumed cloud. ‘You’re a magician!’
‘Nonsense, you were just hiding yourself behind all that hair, that’s all. It’s lovely to see your face.’
You’ll never be the kind of woman to turn a man’s head, Nicola Ann.
She lifted her chin. I beg to differ, Mum.
Would she turn Cade’s head?
‘In the same way,’ Dee added, ‘you hide that lovely figure of yours beneath clothes that are much too baggy.’
That snapped her to. ‘Lovely figure?’ It took a concerted effort not to snort. Dignified. Friendly and dignified. ‘I am way too curvy.’ Fat. ‘I need to lose at least ten kilos.’
‘Nonsense!’ Verity said crisply. ‘You’re perfect. You have gorgeous curves. I miss my curves.’ She ran her hands down her sides from bust to hip. ‘I seem to be shrinking as I get older.
‘But you look lovely,’ Nicola blurted out.
‘The secret is good foundation garments.’ Verity’s eyes twinkled and Nicola couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Besides, I firmly believe that men who only like stick insects have an innate hatred of women. I, for one, have never been the slightest bit interested in pleasing them. My darling Scott, Cade and Dee’s father, liked a full womanly figure. He was a big admirer of Marilyn Monroe and Jane Russell. He’d have hated all of this obsession with being skinny.’ Her eyes twinkled again. ‘And