“Deal,” said Cathy.
“Amanda didn’t tell me she’d entered this contest,” said Ginny. “I didn’t know a thing about it until the letter arrived. I almost threw it out; I thought it was a subscription offer.”
“Aren’t you glad you didn’t?” asked Amanda. “This is going to be fun.”
“And there’s the possibility of winning ten thousand dollars,” said Ocean. “If we win, Mom says I can buy a car.”
“If we win we’re going to donate the ten thousand dollars to our church,” said Lurleen. “That’s the main reason I came. I mean, if the good Lord presents you with an opportunity you can’t turn it down, can you? I just hope they don’t change my hair color; that’s something I don’t approve of. The good Lord knew what he was doing when he gave us our hair, and everything else, too. Like my mama used to tell me, ‘Just keep your face clean and your soul pure and your beauty will shine through.’”
Cathy shook her head in disbelief. “You’re in the wrong place then, honey. You should’ve stayed in South Carolina.”
“North Carolina.”
“Well, wherever you’re from, you’re in Camilla’s hands now. Around here she’s the boss, and you better do what she says. Her temper is a legend in the industry, believe me, I know. Back in the days before I met Tiffany’s wonderful father, Mr. Montgomery, I was a marketing executive at Neiman Marcus. I dealt with her quite a bit, and I soon learned that there was Camilla’s way or the highway. It didn’t matter that I was the customer, that I was putting up the money and buying the ads. Being the customer didn’t make me right, not with her anyway.”
Lurleen looked worried, and Lucy wondered if she’d only consented to the makeover to win the prize money for her church. Lucy understood her anxiety; she hoped the magazine’s experts wouldn’t make them look ridiculous. Not that she had any complaints so far. The fruit cup had been tasty, and the eggs Benedict was a delicious treat. She realized with a shock that she was enjoying herself, in the heart of New York City. Tinker’s Cove seemed very far away.
The waiters were clearing away the last of the dishes when the lights suddenly dimmed and strobe lights began flashing in time to loud techno music. It was the promised fashion show, but Lucy thought the parade of excruciatingly thin models dressed in skimpy outfits was more suited to a Save the Children campaign than daily life. Thigh-high buccaneer boots with pointy toes and stiletto heels, belt-sized miniskirts, and bondage-inspired bustiers were hardly the sort of thing she would wear. Neither were the flowing and fluttering evening dresses constructed of torn bits of fabric and ribbon. None of the moms at her table seemed to know what to make of the molded foam dress with an additional pair of buttocks stitched onto the backside, a detail the announcer described as “humorous whimsy.”
“Like I need a second one of those,” said Cathy.
“That poor model doesn’t even have a first bottom,” said Ginny, giggling.
But when the fashion show was over and they were ensconced in a limo with Ginny and Amanda en route to the hotel, Lucy discovered that Elizabeth had a very different reaction.
“I’m too fat, Mom,” she said, sighing. “I should never have eaten all those Christmas cookies and stuff.”
“Me, too,” said Amanda.
“You look great,” said Lucy, firmly. “You both look great. You’re normal. Those models are freaks, and whether you believe it or not they’re putting their health at risk.”
“That’s not true, Mom. Now they’re saying people who stress their systems by skipping meals actually add years to their lives.”
“You can’t believe everything you read,” said Ginny.
“That’s for sure,” said Lucy. “Besides, they do more than skip lunch to stay that thin. I wouldn’t be surprised if they smoke cigarettes and take amphetamines and diet pills.”
“Mom, you don’t know that. You read it somewhere. So now who’s the one who needs to remember you can’t believe everything you read.”
Lucy was tempted to retort but didn’t want to fight in front of Ginny and Amanda. Instead, she held her tongue as they pulled up to the gleaming steel and glass office tower. Looking up, she was suddenly thrilled and excited about the adventure ahead. She could hardly contain herself as she sat waiting for the chauffeur to open the door.
Chapter Three
THE YEAR’S BEST AND WORST LOOKS
Lucy was standing with the other winners in the black-marble lobby, waiting for Camilla and the other editors who would escort them to the Jolie offices which occupied the eighteenth through twenty-first floors, when her cell phone rang.
“How was the trip?” asked Bill.
Just the sound of his voice made her feel homesick and she stepped apart from the others so she could have a private conversation. “Okay,” she said, staring out the window at the busy street. It was still snowing, producing a slippery gray slush on the sidewalk and roadway. “New York is a lot different from Tinker’s Cove. How’s everything at home?”
“Everything’s fine. We’re all great. The girls went ice skating on the pond. They say the new skates are terrific.” He paused. “Did you talk to Elizabeth about taking some time off from school?”
“She might not have to. It turns out the magazine is giving ten thousand dollars to the best makeover team. It’s a contest.”
“No way!”
“Way,” said Lucy, watching a fashionably dressed woman striding along in impossibly high heels despite the slippery sidewalk. “and after seeing the others I think Elizabeth and I have a pretty good chance of winning.”
“How come?”
“I don’t think the others are as desperate for the money as we are. Take the pair from California, for example. The daughter wants a new car, but the mom is pretty laid back and relaxed. The only others who expressed any serious interest in the money are from North Carolina, and they say they’ll give it to their church if they win.”
“The others aren’t interested?” Bill sounded doubtful.
“I honestly don’t think the girls from Texas are. They already seem to have more money than they know what to do with. That leaves the New Yorkers, Maria and Carmela. I don’t know much about them yet so I’m keeping an eye on them, and the midwesterners.” Lucy paused, thinking about Ginny and Amanda. “They’re very polite, and polite doesn’t win contests.”
Bill chuckled. “I didn’t know you were such a cutthroat competitor yourself.”
“I’m desperate. I’ll do anything to win.”
“If you’re really serious about this, I’ve got some advice for you. You know that TV show, Survivor? The winners often form alliances with other players to gain an advantage. They help each other wipe out the competition.”
“But there’s only one prize. Why would you help somebody else win?”
“Because they’ll help you in return. Two are better than one.”
“And three’s a crowd,” said Lucy. “That’s what my mother used to say.” She lowered her voice. “I’m worried about Elizabeth,” she whispered. “She hardly ate a bite of breakfast.”
“Maybe she wasn’t hungry.”
“She thinks she’s fat.”
“That’s crazy. She’s skin and bones.”
“I know, but they had this fashion show today and the models were even skinnier than she is so she’s decided she needs to lose weight.”
“It’s probably