Love Stories in This Town by Amanda Eyre Ward

Author:Amanda Eyre Ward [Ward, Amanda Eyre]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 978-0-345-51491-2
Publisher: BALLANTINE BOOKS
Published: 2009-06-13T16:00:00+00:00

Nan and Claude

When her daughter, Lola, called to say she had eloped to Las Vegas, Nan Wilkerson drove straight to her hairdresser's house. Her appointment was not until the following Tuesday, but this was an emergency.

“Nan!” said Claude, opening the door. “What can I do for you?”

“I know it's Saturday,” said Nan, “but will you look at these bangs?”

“Hm,” said Claude, evaluating. He wore a white button-down shirt, untucked. Claude had his shirts made in his native Paris; the fit was so perfect that he returned each summer for a whole new set.

“I've got a big party tonight at the club,” said Nan. “Claude, you've got to help me.”

Claude nodded. “Come in,” he said.

Years ago, when Nan and Fred had just moved to Rye from the city, Claude had worked at Secrets Salon on Purchase Street. Nan could still remember her first visit to Secrets, the smell of expensive shampoo and ammonia. The salon was filled with young wives Nan wanted to befriend. She had always worn her dark hair in a low ponytail, but that wasn't going to cut it in Westchester.

As Claude had clipped Nan's hair into the style she would wear for the rest of her life, a mid-length bob with bangs, he'd peppered Nan with questions. Where did she live? (The Bruces' old house, on Dogwood Lane.) What did her husband do in the city? (Investment banking.) Golf or beach club? (Golf first—Apawamis, of course—and a beach club later, or even a place for a boat.) How many children did she hope for? (Three, maybe four.) And lastly, whirling her around to face the mirror, what did she think of the new Nan Wilkerson?

Nan put her hand over her mouth. It had taken over an hour, but Claude had transformed her into a different person. The sort of person she guessed she was now, a rich man's wife.

“Now get rid of the tennis tan,” said Claude, lifting the sleeve of her T-shirt and exposing the pale skin underneath. “Get a bikini, and some brighter lipstick, cheri.”

Nan was a bit miffed, but knew he meant well. In fact, after buying groceries and gin, she stopped in Village Pharmacy and picked out a slim Revlon tube: Hot Coral.

“Whoa,” said Fred, when he arrived home that evening. “Who the hell are you, and what did you do with my wife?”

Nan smiled weakly. “Do you like it?”

“I don't know,” said Fred, “and that's the honest truth.”

“Well, let me know when you decide,” said Nan, in a playful tone.

“Sure will,” said Fred, making his way to the bar. “You get more gin?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Nan.

“There she is!” said Fred, as Lola, then a wild toddler with strawberry blond curls, came running toward him. But he continued fixing his drink, not bending to pick her up, though she stood with her arms extended, waiting.

It took the Wilkersons two years to get into the Apawamis Club, five more to become Golf Members. Nan worked her way up the Tennis Ladder, and made friends.

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