At least it was better now with Douglas being around for the children.
As for Julia, the logical part of her brain reminded her it was safer this way, certainly her heart was safer and she knew she should be happy. She even tried to be happy.
But she was anything but happy.
“That’s it, you’re done,” Sylvie, the hair stylist, announced, pulling Julia from her dismal thoughts. “Magnifique!”
Rosie, the makeup artist, handed her a tube of lipstick and a blush compact. “For touch ups,” she explained.
Julia looked at herself in the three-way mirror and pulled in a breath.
Magnifique was right.
“Girls, you’re miracle workers,” she told them.
They looked at her and then at each other in surprise.
“You shine a perfect diamond, it only glitters a bit more,” Sylvie replied.
Julia laughed at her remark as if it was hilarious and stared at herself in the mirror.
She was wearing a green velvet grown made by Charlie’s most favourite new English designer known only as “Gregory” (with the quotes). The velvet was of such a dark, rich green it appeared to be black with only a sheen of colour. It was sleeveless with a low-cut, v-neck. It had no back at all, falling in an elegant, dramatic and slightly risqué drape just under the small of her back with only one thin strip of velvet that held the sides together under her shoulder blades. It moulded her body snugly, the skirt falling straight with a generous kick-pleat at the knees in the back leading down to a small train. She wore long, black, fitted, satin gloves and black satin, stiletto-heeled pumps. She’d put on her “essence” and the pair of emerald cut emerald studs that her mother had given her when she graduated from college. She felt the dress needed no other adornment and anyway, she didn’t have any to do it justice.
Sylvie had swept up her hair and pulled it back from her face softly and whirled and twirled it in dozens upon dozens of different curls pinned to the back of her head. Rosie’s makeup was not subtle, it was dramatic and glamorous and Julia felt just like a movie star.
Gazing at herself, Julia was beginning to look forward to the evening.
“Whoops, we’re late and so are you,” Sylvie noted, glancing at her watch.
She hugged them both (to their surprise), dropped her new lipstick and compact into her jet-beaded evening bag and took out generous tips to give them both.
“No, we’re covered,” Rosie said, holding up her hands.
“Then Merry Christmas,” Julia replied and firmly pressed the notes in both their hands.
The girls packed up their things and left as Julia squirted one more spray in her cle**age, grabbed her wrap (this made from black velvet and lined in green-black satin) and threw it around her shoulders to allow it to settle in the crooks of her elbows. Then she scuttled out to see Veronika loitering in the hallway.
“I thought you’d gone home!” Julia cried.
Veronika stared, her mouth agape.
“Are you okay?” Julia asked, concerned when Veronika didn’t speak, just kept staring.
“I waited… to see…” Veronika paused then exclaimed, “You are movie star!”
Julia giggled and struck a pose. “I know, didn’t they do a great job on my hair and makeup?”
Ronnie continued to stare at her and then said firmly, “No,” she pointed at Julia, “you look just like movie star.”
Julia’s giggle died at the earnest look in the girl’s eyes, she pulled her close and hugged her.
In her ear, Julia whispered a heartfelt, “Oh Ronnie, thank you.”
It was just the boost of confidence that she needed.
Ronnie hugged her back tightly, pulled away and gave her a brief smile before disappearing toward the kitchen.
The children were at Mr. and Mrs. Kilpatrick’s for the evening; Julia rounded the door to the dining room and saw Douglas through the opposite doorway standing in the hall at the end, looking unbelievably attractive in a well-cut tuxedo. His dark, overlong hair brushed at his collar and something about the fact that he always seemed to be so impeccably turned-out, so in control of everything, yet always seemed to need a haircut was endearing to her.