Loving David (18 page)

“You got it. What time should I be ready?”

William stood. “Be downstairs at ten a.m.”

#

The next morning Charlotte was downstairs in the circular driveway in front of the hotel at ten sharp. David had struggled out of bed at five and had given her a quick peck before he trudged off to the set. Charlotte didn’t tell David, but she was actually glad not to drag herself out of bed at an ungodly hour.

She looked around now for William but didn’t see him. The limo they’d been riding around in pulled up in front of her and the hotel doorman opened the door for her. The driver started to pull away.

“Oh, no. We can’t leave yet,” she called out. “I’m waiting for----”

“I’m to take you to Holt Renfrew this morning, where everything will be taken care of,” the driver smiled.

Charlotte leaned back. “Oh.” She wrinkled her nose. “What’s Holt Renfrew?”

“Finest department store in Vancouver.”

Charlotte’s cell phone trilled inside her purse. She didn’t recognize the number but answered anyway.

“Hello?”

“Good morning, Char; how are you?” William asked.

“I’m fine, except I’m a little confused. I thought you were coming with me.”

“Oh, no, no. Sorry to have mixed you up. I’ve got to be on set all day, but when you get to Holt Renfrew, head up to the fourth floor women’s department, personal shopping---- ask for Evelyn.”

Charlotte breathed a sigh of relief. Shopping wasn’t her strong suit, but at least she’d have some help.

“Thanks, William,” she said. “It seems you’ve thought of everything.”

“Always do. See you later sweetheart. And have fun!”

Charlotte smiled and hung up, a little nervous and a little excited.

#

Charlotte twirled a piece of hair around her fingers as she stepped off the escalator on the fourth floor. Impeccably attired mannequins loomed above her as she walked past racks of expensive clothes in search of her destination. She was more comfortable among the jean-laden tables of The Gap or Old Navy than in a high-end department store like this one. She looked for the floor signage directing her to ‘Personal Shopping’ and within a matter of moments located the elegant suite awash in soft, soothing shades of taupe tucked into the back of the floor. The young redheaded girl sitting behind the desk smiled when Charlotte walked up.

“May I help you?”

Charlotte bit her lip and looked around, now a little uncertain. “Yes, hi, um… I have an appointment with Evelyn.”

“And your name?”

“Charlotte. Charlotte Taylor.”

“Ah yes, Miss Taylor. We’ve been expecting you.” She came from behind the desk and ushered Charlotte over to two plush, oversized chairs in decorated in alternating shiny and matte taupe stripes. “Have a seat, and I’ll let Evelyn know you’re here. Can I get you some water?”

“Yes, please. Thank you.”

The woman walked back to a small table near the desk where there was a glass pitcher filled with water next to a set of small crystal glasses. She filled one with water and brought it over to Charlotte.

“Here you go. Be right back.”

Charlotte sipped the water and detected the faint taste of cucumber.
Okay, this is my new
favorite thing
, Charlotte chuckled to herself before she finished the whole glass.

A tall, toothpick-thin woman emerged from the back. She was adorned in a cloud of perfume along with black-and-white houndstooth jacket trimmed with bits of fringe at the wrist, along the bottom hem, and up and down the lapel. She also wore a knee-length black wool skirt, and her sheer black pantyhose swished as she moved. Her jet black hair was pulled back into a French twist, and her lips were lined in bright red, a brilliant contrast against the alabaster veneer of her skin.

“Miss Taylor?” she inquired in a nasally voice curiously devoid of a Canadian accent.

“Uh, yes, that’s me. I’m Charlotte Taylor,” she stammered.

The woman smiled, a surprisingly warm and welcoming smile considering the high pitch of her voice and sophisticated appearance. Charlotte decided she probably wasn’t all that different from Hendra---- tough-looking on the outside and a marshmallow on the inside.

“I’m Evelyn and I’ll be assisting you today.” When Evelyn clasped her hands, Charlotte noticed that her nails were lacquered in a shade matching her lipstick. Charlotte shoved the ratty cuticles of her own hands into the pockets of her jeans. “So I understand we have a special event coming up in New York. Walking the red carpet?”

“Yes, so I’ll need a dress for that.”

“Uh huh. I see,” Evelyn said as she began to circle Charlotte, sizing her up. She put a hand on her hip and leaned back as she continued her appraisal of Charlotte. “Probably going to dinner, see some shows too, I would imagine.”

Charlotte paused. She hadn’t thought about that, but Evelyn was probably right.

“Yes, that too.”

“Right, right.” Evelyn tapped her long, tapered fingers together and inhaled. “Well, dear, I have some absolutely fabulous things to show you. Don’t you worry,” she smiled.

Charlotte nodded and returned Evelyn’s smile. “Okay. Oh! I should probably give you my

size----”

“Already know it, dear,” Evelyn winked. “Your advance man, as it were, gave us an estimate. And I have to say he got it pretty well on the mark. Must know his way around a woman’s body,” Evelyn muttered as she signaled to Charlotte to follow her to the back and the dressing suites, where a rack of dresses in every conceivable color and style waited for them. Evelyn began to rifle through the dresses, her face screwed up in concentration.

“Now,” she said more to herself than Charlotte. “Let’s see. Oh, yes, this one---- let’s try this one on first,” she muttered as she extracted a dress from the rack and held it up for Charlotte’s inspection.

“You can never go wrong with classic little black dress. As Coco said, we should all have one. And black is very slimming.”

Charlotte winced. “Whatever you think is best,” she said meekly.

Evelyn rolled her eyes. “Oh for heaven’s sake, dear; don’t get offended. First off, you have an absolutely lovely figure. Second, even the skinniest of girls should wear black. It does wonders for us all.” She thrust the dress at Charlotte. “Go on now, dear. Try it on.”

Charlotte stepped into the dressing room to try on the sequined cocktail dress with a scooped neckline and a full skirt that flared at the bottom. Charlotte inspected herself in the mirror, not crazy about the way it looked on her. Of course she thought everything looked bad on her. She’d let Evelyn be the judge. Evelyn frowned when Charlotte stepped out of the dressing room and dove back into the rack for another dress. Charlotte tried on dress after dress, and there was something just a little bit off about each of them; too short, too long, wrong color, wrong fit. Charlotte was growing frustrated over not being able to find the right one. She wanted it to be perfect so she wouldn’t embarrass David on the red carpet. Or herself.

Evelyn finally brought out a simple, floor-length black sheath dress with an empire bodice, square neckline, and small slit up the back. Charlotte held her breath when she zipped it up and looked in the mirror. She gasped and ran out of the dressing room where Evelyn was standing over her rack of dresses, giving them a disapproving stare.

“My dear, I just can’t----” she looked up as Charlotte came out. “My goodness,” Evelyn beamed. “It’s lovely. Absolutely lovely.” She walked around Charlotte, giving her the once-over, her approval evident.

“Yes?” Charlotte asked, her excitement bubbling up inside her.

Evelyn nodded and put her hand on her hip. “Dear, you’re a vision.”

Charlotte let out a round of giddy applause, and Evelyn joined in her laughter. “Okay, now that we’ve got that nailed down, let’s move on to the rest of the trip!”

Fortunately, the rest of the shopping was a breeze, as Evelyn helped Charlotte find two more outfits appropriate for going out on the town in New York on the arm of a famous actor, even picking out the right accessories and shoes. Charlotte, overwhelmed, felt like Cinderella. She never spent this much time on herself, but she was surprised to find she actually enjoyed it. Evelyn’s assistant rang up the purchases and told Charlotte she’d have everything delivered to the hotel later that afternoon. On impulse, Charlotte hugged a startled Evelyn.

“Oh my
dear
. What was that for?”
“To thank you for helping me today. I wouldn’t have had clue one about how to do this.”

Evelyn patted Charlotte on the arm. “Well dear, the tabloids are merciless. Can’t have you winding up on the ‘What Was She Thinking?’ list.”

Charlotte giggled.

Evelyn pulled Charlotte to the side. “You know dear,” she spoke in hushed tones. “It might not be a bad idea to visit our salon---- sixth floor. You know a little manicure, a little pedicure. The tabloids are relentless. Even a tiny little hair out of place and
quelle catastrophe
.” Evelyn straightened up. “Not saying you have to change who you are. Just saying a little freshening up never hurt anybody.”

Charlotte broke out into a smile and cocked her head to the side. “You know, that might not be such a bad idea.”

“I’ll call up for you, if you like.”

Charlotte nodded. “That would be nice, Evelyn. Thank you.”

Evelyn winked and walked over to the phone on the front desk. “You’re welcome and good luck dear.”

Charlotte waved good bye and headed toward the escalator to the salon. She laughed and shook her head.

“This really is like
Pretty Woman
,” she whispered to herself.

#

Three hours later, Charlotte emerged from the Holt Renfrew salon with a new pale-pink manicure and matching pedicure. They’d even washed and conditioned her hair for her, and her curls seemed to have an extra bounce. Never in her life had she ever done either of those things, and once again Charlotte was amazed to discover it wasn’t as torturous or unnecessary as she’d always thought. Maybe she’d make a habit out of it.

The driver had told her to call him when she was ready to be picked up, and just as she pulled out her phone she passed by the make-up counter. Charlotte slowed as she scanned the displays, lit up like Christmas trees with an assortment of shiny ornaments and glossy-colored packages underneath. Charlotte stood in front of one counter, mesmerized. Images of the Internet story about her being a “cougar” echoed in Charlotte’s head, and she suddenly pictured the young and firm Olivia with her silky smooth skin and freakishly long legs. Charlotte wiped her hand down her face to erase the pictures from her head. She looked back at the bottles and potions and grimaced.

“Good lord, there must be twenty different brands to choose from,” she whispered to herself.

Behind each counter were young, overly coiffed, overly done girls; goopy lipstick painted over their lips, powder and foundation shellacked over their faces, shimmering eye shadow smeared across their lids, eyebrows plucked almost to oblivion. Charlotte meandered past a counter in the corner that was staffed by one such girl. She looked like she was in her mid- thirties, though Charlotte secretly hoped that she was pushing fifty and that all the jars and tubes laid out beautifully in front of her actually did perform miracles. Charlotte cast her eyes down at the products behind the display case, the images blurring into a pool of pink.

“Hi! I’m Liz,” the woman chirped in a perky voice, and Charlotte smiled. There was the Canadian accent she’d been waiting for. “What can I do for you?”

Charlotte screwed up her mouth. “I’m not sure,” she replied.

“Well, was there something specific you were looking for, or is there something you normally use that you’re out of?”

“Um, well, I don’t get my make-up here,” Charlotte lowered her voice.

“Oh? Do you shop at another department store?”

“Not exactly. More like I pick up what I need from the drugstore,” Charlotte said with an embarrassed little smile.

Liz grimaced and shook her head. “Oh, no, no, no,
no
. No---- that just won’t do.”

Charlotte sighed. “Well, okay. Let me start with some wrinkle cream.”

Liz held up a forefinger and bent over several display cases, plucking jars from their plastic holders. “Preventative measures are a
great
idea. I mean, if you wait until your forties,” Liz made a slicing motion across her neck. “You’re in the danger zone.”

Charlotte raised an eyebrow. “Well, I’m forty-four. Should I call the crypt keeper now?”

Liz gasped. “No!” she said as she whipped her head around before she leaned toward Charlotte. “Who do you use?” Liz tugged at the corner of one eye.

Charlotte looked at her, not understanding at first before she burst into laughter. “Oh, God no. No, I’ve never had any work done. Truth be told, I don’t really use anything.”

Liz narrowed her eyes and shook her head. “My God, you’re lucky. Good genes, huh?”

Charlotte shrugged. “I guess. But you know, you’re right. Preventative measures are a good thing. So maybe show me what you have?”

Liz smiled. “Absolutely!” she squeaked as she began to slather various creams and liquids across Charlotte’s hands. Charlotte’s head was swimming from all the choices as she tried to keep up with Liz’s explanations about eye creams, wrinkle serums, scrubs, tranquility lotions, and the difference between oil-based and water-based moisturizers. Liz delighted in piling up as many tubes and jars as she could locate behind the counter in front of Charlotte. Two hundred dollars and an hour later, Liz handed Charlotte a plastic bag the size of a postcard with a triumphant smile.

“Well, it sure was a pleasure helping you today,” Liz said. “And I just know you’re going to love the products. I mean, doesn’t your skin feel amazing?”

Charlotte nodded weakly, her head throbbing. “Oh, yes,” she said, eager to get back to the hotel and recover from the sensory overload. “Thanks for all your help.”

“My pleasure!” Liz cocked her head to the side. “You look exhausted. You should get home and get some rest. It makes such a difference. Can’t expect good genes and moisturizers to do all the work, right?” Liz winked.