The Blossom Sisters (19 page)

“Okay, I accept. I live around the corner from you, on Morningstar Court. I'm the only brick house on the court, you can't miss it. Seven, you said?”

“I did say seven. Yes, ma'am, seven o'clock. Seven is a good time for dinner. I usually eat at seven.”
Jesus, what the hell is wrong with me?
He was babbling like some lovesick teenager. And she lived around the corner from him. How weird was that?

Jill laughed again, and this time Gus felt goose bumps running up and down his arms. “Where would you like to go?”

“How about Bandoliers in New Town? They serve all kinds of food.”

“Bandoliers it is. Do you really live around the corner from me?”

“I really do.” Jill didn't laugh this time, but there was laughter in her voice.

“Well, that's . . . great. I guess. I'm just renting. I could move if you think I shouldn't live there.”
Well, damn, did I just say that?

“New neighbors are nice. I don't even know mine. We could probably holler to each other across the fence. My backyard backs up to yours.”

Now, how did she know that? Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. He'd told her the other day that he had moved. She'd probably checked it out or was familiar with his address. “Well, let me know when you're going to holler, so I'll know to answer.”

Shit, shit, shit. That didn't even make sense. Quit while you're ahead and get the hell off the phone before she thinks you're certifiable.
“I'll see you at seven, then.”

“Okay.”

Jill was all thumbs as she tried to press in the number to Lynus Litton's office. Jill said when he answered, “I want those four hours you talked to me about. Three and a half would be better, but I'll take the whole four, and I need them today. Did you hear me, Lynus? Today.”

“Whoa! What's got your panties in a knot?”

“You said I need four hours. Okay, I'm calling you on it. It has to be today; I have a date tonight. Seven o'clock.”

“You mean a
date
, where the guy knocks on your door and brings flowers and candy, that kind of date?”

“Yes, dammit. What? You think no one would ever ask me out on a date? Well, someone did, and I need those four hours. Well?”

Lynus turned cagey. “Sounds important. You smitten? You realize when you sign up for those four hours, you turn yourself over to Sam and Mandy, and you have to let them have free rein. You can't back out. You go with it all the way. The works. If you give them any trouble, I'll hear about it. I have a reputation to uphold. I never send them clients unless I think both parties can handle it. You still game?”

Jill thought about it. “Yes,” she said curtly.

“Okay, give me ten minutes, and I'll get back to you. This is going to be pricey. You need to know that going in.”

“Okay, okay. Will I be happy with the results?”

“Knowing you, probably not, but you'll blow the guy's socks off. You still game?”

Jill didn't even think about her response. “Yes, I'm game.”

“Okay, I'll get back to you.”

“Louise!”

“My God, what?” Jill's secretary bellowed on the run. “What's wrong?”

“I have a date tonight! Lynus is . . . well, I have a four-hour—I guess you'd call it
overhaul
of my person. He's calling me back.”

“A real date, a knock-on-the-door kind of date?”

“Yeah, yeah. Why does everyone keep saying a knock-on-the-door date? We're going to Bandoliers. It's with Gus Hollister.”

“Your client? He's a stud! I thought you hated him! He actually asked you out on a date when you've been so hateful to him? Are lawyers allowed to date their clients?”

Jill squirmed in her chair. “I don't know if they are or not, and I don't care. I think it's up to the individuals. I never dated a client before. I don't hate Gus Hollister. I hate what he did to his grandmother and his aunts by choosing that
person
he married over them—and look what that got him. There are different kinds of hate, you know. Besides, you know as well as I do that a lawyer cannot pick and choose clients by the way they look and act. And, yes, it's a
real
date. You sound like Lynus. And, no, he's not a stud. Studs are farm animals. He's just a good-looking guy who looks buffed.
Puffed?
Whatever the word is these days.”

Hands on her hips, Louise looked at her boss over the top of her reading glasses. “So, you are finally going to get rid of that gypsy attire you've been wearing since the big flood a hundred years ago.”

“Looks that way. Don't get carried away. It's just a dinner date. Gus Hollister is trying to make amends to me for hurting my feelings. I accepted his apology, but he is obviously still feeling guilty, so I am just trying to . . . help things along. Anger gets you nowhere, as you point out to me time and again. Now, are you happy?”

Louise leaned up against the doorframe and crossed her arms over her chest. “Well,” she drawled, “if that was all true, why are you going for that four-hour makeover or whatever it's called? You could go in that same outfit you're sporting right now. Sounds to me like this is more than a thank-you date. I rest my case.”

“And you find this all so very amusing? I should fire you.”

“Ha-ha!” Louise said as she backed out of the door to return to her desk.

Jill drummed her fingers on her desk as she waited for the phone to ring. She looked at her blunt-cut nails and winced. Everyone wore acrylic nails these days, even Louise. Maintenance. She hated anything she had to keep up with. Although she had thought more than once about getting a French manicure.
Thought
about it. She thought about a lot of things. Well, now it was time to put up or shut up.

The phone rang. Jill let it ring four times before she picked it up, because she didn't want Lynus to suspect how anxious she was. Her greeting was casual and bored sounding. At least that's how she hoped she came across to Lynus.

“How does eleven o'clock sound?”

“Doable, Lynus, doable. Let's be clear, four hours or three and a half?”

“Might run to five. It's out of my hands. I'm not the expert. Just go with the flow, Jill, and try to enjoy it all.”

“Five hours! You could clone someone in five hours! Are you putting me on?”

“No, I'm not. When I explained your . . . situation, they said possibly five hours. Don't shoot the messenger. Let's face it, Jill, you need a lot of work.”

Jill was near to tears. “My God, do I really look that bad?”

“Honey, we all let ourselves go at some point, and I'm sure you had your reasons. And I do not want to know what those reasons are. It's going to take some time to . . . to repair all the . . . imperfections you let get out of hand. Just for the record, women kill to get any kind of appointment with Sam and Mandy. That's how good they are. You have a pen handy?” When Jill said she did, Lynus rattled off the address of the salon where Jill was to go for her makeover.

“I can't believe I'm doing this. I can't believe I'm doing this. I can't believe I'm doing this,” Jill muttered over and over as she packed up her briefcase. Even though she had hours until her appointment time and what she'd agreed to do, she wanted to go somewhere quiet to think. Her intention was to buy a bagel and some coffee and go to the park and find a quiet bench.

Jill waved to her secretary as she sailed through the office and out the door. She couldn't help but wonder what she'd look like when she walked back through that door the next time.

Chapter 20

J
ILL JACKSON STOPPED AT THE HUGE YELLOW ARROW AT THE SIGNPOST
for the turnoff to the Sunset Spa. As she made her way down a winding road lined by old sycamore trees that were just starting to green up, she thought it a beautiful, serene setting. In her opinion, it was the perfect location for a spa. The building surprised her because she had had no idea it even existed, nestled as it was behind the lush shrubbery. How many times had she driven this road with no thought that this magnificent building was hiding behind the luxurious plantings? She winced when she recalled Lynus's words,
Bring your checkbook, as this place is pricey.

Jill parked in the minuscule lot, slid out of her truck, and looked in awe at the building. Mediterranean style, perhaps. Or something out of Babylon. Whatever it was, it was gorgeous. The word
pricey
ricocheted around and around inside her head. Up close, the building and the landscaping were even more awesome. The shrubbery looked like it had been pruned with manicure scissors. Not a leaf was out of place, every stem in perfect alignment. A rainbow of flowers bordered the colored flagstone walkway. At the door, a discreet sign said to ring the bell for admittance. Jill rang the bell. A pleasant-looking woman in what she thought was like a pale yellow doctor's coat opened the door to her with a wide smile. She introduced herself as Mona and said she would be her guide for her stay at Sunset Spa.

“Let's get you settled, then I'll introduce you to Mandy and Sam.”

Five minutes later, Jill was in a small, luxurious, restful-looking room. She struggled to define the scent permeating the room but had to give up when she couldn't identify it. From somewhere, the sounds of water trickling over stones could be heard, along with a tinkling sound from a wind chime somewhere in the building. Jill could feel her eyelids start to droop. Mona smiled.

“Hang your things in the closet and put on the robe and slippers. They're new, and you'll take them with you when you leave. Do you have any questions?” Jill shook her head. “I'll be back in a few minutes to take you to Sam and Mandy.”

Jill bit down on her lower lip as she stared at the yawning interior of the closet in which she was to hang her clothing. She looked around as a feeling of panic overwhelmed her. She moved then to the door; her hand was on the knob to open it so she could bolt. She wasn't a prisoner, she could leave anytime she wanted. All she had to do was say that she had changed her mind, that she wasn't in the mood for a makeover, and that she'd come back some other time. But that would mean she was a coward. Lynus would look at her in a different light. She'd be forced to look at herself in a different light.

Her cell phone took that moment to ring. She debated if she should answer it, but the debate didn't last long. She was one of those people who could not ignore a ringing phone. She clicked on to hear her secretary tell her that Isaac Diamond's office had just called to say that Isaac was in the hospital as a result of an accident. She went on to say the other two Diamond partners didn't know if their office would continue to represent Elaine Hollister or if she would engage another law firm. Jill made a face, muttered something that sounded like she'd get back to Louise later. She turned her phone off when she remembered a sign at the entrance that said that all cell phones must be turned off, and they were to be left in the client's locker. Jill always obeyed the rules.

Jill looked around for a mirror. She almost blacked out in relief when she didn't see one. She wondered exactly what a few minutes meant. Five?—ten?—before Mona came back to take her to Sam and Mandy. She licked at her lips and started to remove her clothing. She kicked off her ankle-high boots, placing them neatly on the floor of the closet. Off came the jacket, the vest, the long-sleeved blouse, the skirt, the half-slip. She squeezed her eyes shut as she removed her bra and panties.

She could feel the raised scars that covered the right side of her body. She thought then about the eleven skin grafts she'd undergone to repair the burns before she had called a halt and had said no more. “Suck it up, Jill, and get on with it,” she muttered under her breath. She slipped her arms into the fluffy white robe, tied the belt, then slid her feet into the matching slippers, just as a knock sounded at the door. “Are you ready, Miss Jackson?”

“I am.” Jill opened the door and stepped into the hallway.

Mona chatted as she pointed out different statues nestled into little nests of greenery along with small fountains with trickling water that lined the hallway. She knocked softly on a door, opening it at the same time.

Jill didn't know what she was expecting, but Sam and Mandy Dressler's appearance surprised her. She had formed a mental picture in her mind of two movie star look-alikes, impeccably dressed and coiffed and made up to look like the beautiful people they catered to. Mandy Dressler was small and round with gray hair, pink cheeks, and granny glasses. She wore pale green scrubs, the kind technicians wore in hospitals. She had a beautiful smile. Sam Dressler was just as small and round. He, too, was pink cheeked and he had snow-white hair and a matching Vandyke beard. He also wore wire-rimmed glasses. His smile was just as beautiful and warm as his wife's. It was hard for Jill not to bask in their warm, welcoming greeting.

“Welcome to Sunset Spa,” the Dresslers said in unison. Mandy motioned to a soft, buttery-looking beige chair. “We need to ask a few questions. First, do you have any medical issues, and are you on any medication we should know about?” Jill shook her head as she was handed a clipboard to check off the questions she was being asked verbally. She did it all in record time and signed her name, along with the date. She handed the paper over.

Mandy scanned the printed form, satisfied that it matched Jill's verbal answers. “Question and answer time. You don't seem . . . excited or relaxed to me, Miss Jackson. Why do I have the feeling you'd rather be somewhere else right now instead of preparing to be pampered for a few hours? Am I wrong?” she asked gently.

Jill chewed on her lower lip, something she always did when she was nervous. “The answer is yes and no. Lately . . . lately people have been . . . commenting on the way I dress and saying . . . things that are far from flattering. Lynus . . . Lynus suggested I come here. At first, I said no. And then . . . well, I changed my mind earlier this morning, and I do appreciate your fitting me in on such short notice.”

“Is there a reason, in your opinion, why suddenly you've decided to come here? I ask only because we want you to have an enjoyable experience at Sunset Spa,” Sam said, his blue eyes twinkling.

Her moment of truth. “Yes, I guess so. I'm tired of evading and explaining, and I was asked out on a date for this evening. The person . . . the man who asked me for . . . for the date . . . is someone who . . . who called me a fireplug. I guess I do look like that sometimes.”

“And . . . ,” Mandy prompted gently.

Jill felt like she was on the witness stand. She squared her shoulders. “When I was eight years old, I was in a house fire. A new gas hot-water heater had just been installed at our house. It exploded somehow, and my parents and brother died in the fire. I was the only survivor. I was in the hospital off and on for several years. The right side of my body was burned pretty badly. I had many, many skin grafts until I just couldn't do it anymore. I tried to hide it, and I'm still hiding it. I thought . . . the more layers I put on myself, the less noticeable it would be. I've been to shrinks—the aunt who took me in after the fire insisted on it—but it was something I just couldn't overcome. I withdrew from treatment but managed to go to college and law school, and still work. Money was never an issue—my parents had excellent insurance. The people who installed the hot-water heater paid handsomely, and my aunt invested the money for me. Then I turned it all over to my boss, who invested it again with still higher returns. I never have to work another day in my life unless I want to. And, I want to. I never used the money because . . . to me it was . . . death money. Now you have my whole life story.”

The Dresslers smiled. “Then let's get you started. We'd like to see a smile, though. How about this, when you leave here, you're going to look and feel like a million dollars. Can you accept that?”

Could she accept that? She was here, wasn't she? She'd just confessed her life story to two strangers. All because some guy called her a fireplug. Was it the word
fire
that pushed her to come here, or was it guilt and shame? Vanity was probably the answer. She shrugged. “Yes, of course,” she responded.

Mandy pressed a button on the desk. Mona appeared as if by magic to lead Jill out of the room. Jill turned in the doorway, and said “Woohoo!” Then she laughed.

Sam and Mandy looked at each other and joined in the laughter. “I think that little confession opened a door that's been locked for a long time. I'll see you later, Sam. I have some shopping to do,” Mandy said.

“Have fun, my dear. I know how you love to shop. Just remember our promise to Miss Jackson that she's going to look and feel like a million dollars when she leaves here.”

“I'll remember, dear. I so hope that young man is worth all this. I'm thinking, Sam, even if for some reason tonight doesn't end with a promise for the future, Miss Jackson will be able to walk through that door she opened with more confidence than when she walked in here.”

“I hope we find out the answer at some point in time,” Sam said.

“I'll see you when I see you, my dear,” Mandy said as she reached for her purse. This was the part that she liked best, the transformation of the client. She smiled.

The hours passed in a blur. Twice, Jill dozed off because she was so relaxed. She had a deep hour-long body massage and a wonderful facial, which allowed her to fall asleep. She loved the whirlpool, with the jets pummeling her entire body. She dozed off again during her pedicure, while a technician applied acrylic nails to her fingers and finished it off with a French manicure. She slept for thirty minutes before she was transferred to a bare room, where she got spray-tanned.

“It will look just like the sun kissed your entire body. The plus to spray-tanning is it will downplay the pinkness of your scars.”

While she stood with her arms and legs spread to dry, Jill decided this was a day she'd never forget, and she wasn't even finished yet.

When the technician announced that the spray-on tan was dry, Jill was taken to still another room, with no mirrors but wonderful lighting. The beautician twirled the chair Jill was sitting on, as she ran her fingers through Jill's long, curly hair. “Do you have something in mind, or are you willing to leave it up to me? First things first, your hair is way too long. Long hair is not in fashion, and is best worn by young girls. Are you ready for a new look to go with the new you?”

Jill drew in a deep breath. “I am. I'm not a fancy kind of person, so can you give me an easy-to-care-for, casual kind of look?”

The stylist, who said his name was Brandon, said, “I think it's time to get rid of the Shirley Temple curls. How will you feel if I straighten your hair and give it some highlights? I'd also like to thin it out a little.”

Giddy with what she was going through, Jill could hardly believe her own words when she said, “Go for it, Brandon.”

Another ninety minutes passed before Brandon turned down the lighting and pressed a button to reveal a mirror behind a wooden panel. Jill gasped as she leaned forward to view her new hairdo. Who was this person? In her wildest dreams, she never thought she could look as good as she did at that moment.

“You like?” Brandon asked.

“I love it, Brandon. I really do.”

Brandon grinned. “Okay, now it's time for your makeup session. Ready?”

“Oh, yeah.” Jill grinned in return. Suddenly, she was loving this whole new experience.

 

While Jill was being pummeled, scrubbed, rubbed, caressed, sprayed, and painted, Gus Hollister was banging his head on the wall for the fourth time. He had gone to Barney's to exchange the Jeep for his Porsche, having decided that he was not going to pick up his date in a Jeep. Now, he was exhausted with the effort he was expending to get through to the Blossom sisters.

Gus threw his hands in the air. “Let's go through this one more time. I know you're tired, and so am I. We've been at this for hours, and I really have to leave, because I have a dinner engagement, which you all endorsed, by the way.”

They were on the back porch, with the door to the kitchen closed for privacy. The coffeepot had been filled, then refilled. Everyone's nerves were twanging from too much caffeine.

Violet, more hostile toward Gus than her sisters, looked at her nephew. “Nephew, we made a commitment to our staff. What you're suggesting to the three of us can't possibly work. If we do what you say, there won't be enough work for everyone. We just can't go back on our word. We cannot break a promise; surely you can understand that.”

“Yes, Aunt Vi. But there will be work for everyone, just less work. I do understand. Will you just stop, close your eyes, and envision the inside of this farmhouse? It's total chaos, it's overcrowded, you're all meeting yourselves coming and going, plus the kitchen as well as the summer kitchen is being used twenty-four/seven, with all the cooking for so many people three times a day. And don't get me started again on your storage arrangements for supplies. There is not one inch of space available. You need to relocate. Granny, there is all of Shady Pines. Why aren't you all working out of there? There is an industrial kitchen at Shady Pines, and that's what you need. Read my lips, a fully equipped industrial kitchen.”