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  At last the torture part was over. She was unwrapped, washed, and deposited in the stylist’s chair once more. After three glasses of wine, Daisy didn’t even wince as Amie set to work with her scissors, snipping industriously away. Long strands of hair slithered to the floor. Daisy finished the last of the wine in her glass and held it out for more.

  “Oh, I think you can do without reinforcing, now,” said Todd in a lazily amused voice. “How much wine have you had?”

  “That’s just the third glass,” she said righteously.

  “Darling, I hope you ate this morning.”

  “Of course. And Amie gave me a croissant. Three glasses in three hours isn’t too much, is it?” Her righteousness changed to anxiety. “I’m not tipsy, am I?”

  “Maybe a little. Thanks,” he said in an aside to Amie.

  Amie, a tall, thin young woman who wore her black hair in a crew cut, smiled at him. “It’s been a pleasure. It would be worth two croissants to see this kind of a change in someone’s appearance.”

  Todd lounged against the workstation, dapper in his customary khakis and a blue silk shirt, and watched as Amie used a round brush to shape Daisy’s hair as she dried it Daisy watched too, terrified because she was going to have to do this on her own the next time. It didn’t look complicated, but then neither had mascara.

  She had breathed a sigh of relief when the last washing had revealed hair that seemed dark, though she’d been a bit indignant that three hours of torture had had such little result. Why, even the lemon white had at least shown that something had been done to her. As Amie’s hair dryer worked, though, Daisy watched her hair become lighter and lighter. It wasn’t lemon white, but it was definitely blond. Different shades shimmered through it, catching the light with gold here, a pale beige there.

  When Amie was finished, she whisked away the cape while Daisy stared openmouthed at her reflection. Her dull, mousy brown hair was a distant memory. This hair was glossy, full of body. It swung when she moved her head, then settled back into place as if it knew exactly where to go. The style was simple, as Todd had promised; the length barely reached her shoulders, the ends were turned under, and the top swept elegantly away from a short side part.

  Amie looked incredibly smug. Todd hugged her and kissed her cheek, “You did it. That’s classic.”

  “She has good hair,” Amie said, accepting Todd’s tribute and giving him a return kiss on the cheek. “Not much body, but nice strong hair with a smooth cuticle. With the right styling products, there’s no reason she can’t look like this every day.”

  It was a good thing Todd was along, because Daisy was in a trance. He made certain she had the styling products Amie recommended, he reminded her to write a check for services rendered—she was so dazed she would have walked out without thinking—and, thank God, he was driving. Daisy didn’t know if it was the wine or just plain shock, but she wasn’t certain her feet were touching the ground.

  That was good, because their next stop was at a large mall where she got her ears pierced. It took only a minute—all she felt was a pinch—and the next thing she knew she was walking out with discreet gold hoops in her ears.

  For the next four hours, Todd walked her into the ground. She tried on clothes until she was exhausted, and began to see what he meant when he said “old money.” The styles were simple, such as a plain beige skirt worn with a sleeveless white blouse. But the fit was slim, the skirt stopped at her knees, and a narrow belt drew attention to her waist. “Old money is never frou-frou,” he said. “It’s sleek and classic and understated.” She bought shoes, graceful sandals that showed her sexy red toenails, and classic pumps with two-inch heels, in black and taupe. “Never white, darling,” he said firmly. “White is for casual shoes, not pumps.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. Trust me.”

  Because his taste so far had been infallible, in the end, she could do nothing else. And maybe her own tastes had something to do with it, because invariably her own preferences had been his, too. She had just never before had the nerve, or the incentive, to do anything about the way she looked. She had stayed with what was familiar, what was comfortable, what was easy. Looking good was a lot of work, plus she had never really seen herself as pretty or stylish. Beth had always been the pretty one, while Daisy had accepted her own role as the smart, studious one. Maybe she couldn’t be pretty as effortlessly as Beth could, but she was definitely pretty, and it was her own fault she was only now discovering that.

  She didn’t even try to keep track of the money she spent. This was all for a good cause: her own. She didn’t just buy clothes, though that was the majority of her purchases. She bought perfume, and a couple of chic handbags, and earrings she liked. Todd talked her into an anklet, telling her, with a sly look in his eyes, “There’s nothing sexier, darling.”

  At last they were on their way home. Daisy sat quietly, still numb from the entire experience. If there was such a thing as cosmetic war, today she had waged it. From today on, her life was changed. It wasn’t just the way other people would see her, but the way she saw herself. She had always been content with the background, thinking that it was all she deserved. No longer. From now on, regardless of what happened in her personal manhunt, she was going to make the most of herself for the sake of her own pride, if nothing else.

  “If you don’t mind my asking,” Todd said after about ten miles of silence while she assimilated the day, “what was behind this sea change?”

  Daisy sighed and rested her head against the seat, letting her eyes close. “My thirty-fourth birthday.”

  “Really? I would have guessed you’re in your late twenties.”

  Despite her fatigue, that brought a smile to her face. “Really?”

  “Cross my heart. Maybe it’s your skin; you haven’t been out in the sun much, have you?”

  “Not a lot. I do tan, but I also burn easily.” Plus she had always been inside with her nose in a book.

  “That’s good. You also have a charming air of innocence that makes you look younger.”

  Daisy opened her eyes, and felt her cheeks heat. “I don’t get out much,” she confessed. “That’s another reason I wanted to change. I want to get married, and let’s face it, the way I looked before no one paid any attention to me.”

  “That’ll change now,” he said, and smiled at her. “I guarantee it.” He paused, then said, “Is there any certain man you’re interested in?”

  She shook her head, and felt the wonderful swing of her hair. Goodness, that was amazing! “No. I’m just going to go out looking. I’ve never been to a nightclub before, but I figure that’s a good place to start. Do you know any good places?” Too late she realized that the clubs a gay man knew were probably not the clubs where she would have a good chance of success.

  “I’ve heard the Buffalo Club is good,” he said casually. “Do you dance?”

  “I know how, though I haven’t done it much since I took lessons. Dancing is a good way to break the ice, isn’t it?”

  “Very good.” His tone was grave. “Do you think you might go out tonight?”

  “I don’t know.” Going alone to a nightclub would take nerve, she thought, and after today she might have used up all her reserves.

  Todd glanced at her, then returned his attention to the road. “Sometimes, once you get started, it’s easier just to keep going than it is to stop and then start up again.”

  Meaning he thought she should go out tonight, after making the huge effort all day long to change her outward image.

  “I’ll think about it,” she said. A thought occurred to her. “I don’t know how to act like ‘old money,’ though. Is there anything special—”

  “No,” he interrupted. “Old money is just a style. Don’t get presentation and personality confused. Just be yourself, and then you don’t have to worry.”

  “Being myself never got me noticed before,” she said ruefully.

  He laughed. “It will now, honey. It wil