Behind The Mask. Metsy Hingle
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go. How about dessert? We’ve got apple pie, bread pudding and, since it’s Mardi Gras time, king cake.”
“I’ll pass on the dessert but, speaking of Mardi Gras, I was wondering if you might like to catch a parade with me this weekend.”
Oh darn, Lily thought. Amber and Gina had been right. “I’m afraid I can’t. But thanks for asking.”
“Already have plans, huh?”
“Yes,” Lily said, thinking of Timmy.
“Maybe another time when you’re not busy?”
Lily hesitated, not wanting to lead him on, but not wanting to bruise his ego, either. “Actually, another time wouldn’t work, either. I have other commitments that demand most of my time. I’m sorry.”
Joe’s hazel eyes lost some of their spark. He shrugged. “Can’t blame a guy for trying, huh? I suppose it was dumb of me to think you wouldn’t already have a guy in your life.”
Regretting that she’d failed to read his interest properly, Lily tried to explain, “I do have a guy in my life. But not the kind you mean. He’s my son. And he takes up just about all of my spare time.”
“You’ve got a kid?” Joe asked, clearly surprised.
“Yes. He just turned three and he’s a bundle of energy.”
“What about his dad?”
Lily immediately wished she hadn’t opened the discussion. “I’m a widow,” she said and, because she couldn’t bring herself to look at him directly after the lie, she began clearing the remains of his lunch from the table. She’d never been very good at lying—something to do with her Catholic-school upbringing most likely—yet for the past six months she’d told more lies than she’d ever dreamed of telling in a lifetime.
“Geez, I’m sorry, Lily. I didn’t realize, I mean you’re so young.”
“It’s all right. You had no way of knowing.”
“Well, maybe you could get a sitter—”
“The truth is, I don’t date,” she told him as she picked up her tray. “But you might want to ask Amber. I think she’d really enjoy going to the parade with you, and the two of you would have a great time.”
Not waiting for a response she turned away, more eager than ever for three o’clock to come so she could end this day and head to Gertie’s to pick up Timmy.
After she’d finished scrubbing down the counters and refilling the napkin holders, Lily stripped off her apron. She retrieved her purse and jacket from the office out back and started toward the table where Amber, Gina, May and Nancy Lee, the owner of the River Bend Diner, were gathered around Ricardo. One of the diner’s regular patrons, Ricardo was known only by the singular name, and was reported to be a maven of fashion. Because he was always impeccably dressed and well groomed, Lily likened him to a young Ricardo Montalban. With his neatly styled black hair, laughing dark eyes and olive skin, he was a favorite among the ladies at the diner who didn’t seem to mind that Ricardo preferred men to women. Probably because Ricardo neither apologized nor flaunted his sexuality, she mused. It was part of who he was. Just as his talent for making a woman beautiful was part of who he was.
“Excuse me,” she said, interrupting the chatter. “Nancy Lee, if there’s nothing else, I’m going to head out.”
“But you haven’t heard what Ricardo’s got planned,” Amber exclaimed. And, with the enthusiasm of a twenty-year-old who lived for the next party, Amber began to explain. “You know that Ricardo here has this really rad store with all kinds of clothes and makeup and stuff, right?”
Lily nodded. She’d heard about the specialty shop that carried exorbitantly priced costumes, wigs and ladies’ apparel.
“Well, he says we can pick out any outfit we want for Mardi Gras Day from his store and he’ll let us have it at half-price. And get this, he’s going to help us do our hair and makeup. Isn’t that major cool?”
“That’s very kind of you,” Lily offered, even though she had no intention of taking the man up on his offer. The month of parades leading up to the big celebration was more than enough for her. She certainly had no intention of dressing up for the city’s big party day. Aside from Mardi Gras sounding a bit wild for her, she couldn’t imagine spending her hard-earned money on a costume that she’d wear once and never use again.
“Lily’s right. That’s real nice of Ricardo,” Nancy Lee said as she shifted the ever-present gum in her mouth. A well-preserved woman in her late-fifties, Nancy Lee eyed her employees. “Just make sure you girls don’t bankrupt me by plying Ricardo here with free food and drinks to show your appreciation.”
“You wound me, Señora Nancy,” Ricardo said in a voice that still held the thick accent of his native Spain. With a hand pressed dramatically to his heart, he continued, “This offer is merely to show my gratitude to you and these ladies for making this foreigner welcome.”
Nancy Lee let out a bawdy laugh. “Ricardo, you faker you. You’re no more a foreigner than I am. Why, you’ve been living here for twenty years that I know of.”
“Ah, but were it not for you and your lovely ladies, I would have returned to Madrid long ago. It is your friendship that keeps me here.”
“Along with all those rich ladies uptown who spend a fortune on the clothes and makeup you sell in that shop of yours,” Nancy Lee added.
“What can I say? I have been blessed with an eye for beauty, and it is a gift that I share with my friends. That I wish to share with you. You need only to tell Ricardo who you wish to be, and I will make it happen.”
Lily listened in amusement as Ricardo went about describing how he would transform each of them in outfits ranging from Britney Spears to dance-hall queens to European royalty. It was like being a little girl and playing dress up—only on a much grander scale than the dress-up games she’d played as a youngster.
“And what about you Señorita Lily? Whom do you wish to be?”
Lily blinked, caught off guard by the question and at becoming the center of attention. “I…I don’t know,” she said.
“You do not have a secret fantasy to be someone else for a day? Perhaps a movie star or a famous figure from the past?”
“No,” she said honestly, because since escaping from Adam six months ago, her total focus had been on erasing any trace of Elisabeth Webster.
“Then perhaps you would like to be Scheherazede, the sultan’s wife, or Princess Jasmine in the tale of Arabian Nights. Or maybe Shakespeare’s Juliet.”
Lily laughed. “No. I don’t think so.”
Ricardo made a frame of his hands and positioned it around her face, as though he saw her as a canvas and was trying to determine what shades of paint he wanted to use. “With your cheekbones, the green eyes and mouth, I could turn you into Faith Hill or perhaps a young Marilyn Monroe.”
“I don’t know about the Marilyn Monroe gig,” Amber chimed in. “But you might be right about the Faith Hill thing. Lily’s got that pale skin and delicate-looking thing going that Faith has.”
Ricardo tipped up her chin and examined her face from several angles. “The hairdresser who’s responsible for this mess should be shot. You should let it grow. But since Mardi Gras is only a few weeks away, we will lighten the color and work with some hairpieces.”
Lily took a step back, smoothed a hand over her hair. She wasn’t about to admit that she was the one responsible for chopping off the long blond hair and dying it the dark honey shade. It had been one of the many steps she’d taken in the past six months to disguise her appearance in order to distance herself from the woman she had been. “Thanks, I’ll think about it,” Lily said, but she had no intention of doing so.
“Very