The Trade Off by Louise Maniscalco

Author:Louise Maniscalco
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781626815216
Publisher: Diversion Books
Published: 2014-11-14T00:00:00+00:00

“Oh, my God!” screamed Gloria Rodkin from the Salon couch, phone to her ear, plate on her lap. Bonnie and Joanne were just returning with five gowns.

“Gloria! You look fantastic!” said Joanne. The two women hugged and air-kissed.

Into the phone, Gloria said, “Shelley, you will not believe it! Joanne Kline…yes, from Chicago…yes, on the committee… She just walked into the Salon with the same haircut I have!” To Joanne, she said, “You must have seen Sally Hershberger.”

Joanne nodded. “She’s incredible.”

Gloria said, “I never thought I’d spend close to a thousand dollars on a cut and color until Sally. It’s worth every penny, though.”

“It looks much better on you,” said Joanne, of Gloria’s red version.

“It looks so much better on you! Hold still. We’ll let Shelley decide.” Gloria used her iPhone to snap Joanne’s photo, then emailed it to her daughter. “Did you get it? Who looks better? Tell the truth, Shelley. I know when you’re lying. You’re lying!”

Bonnie pictured the entire planning committee for the Peace on Earth spring charity gala sitting in a well-appointed living room, sipping lattes, wearing Chanel suits, and sporting identical haircuts in different shades. It reminded Bonnie of high school, when every girl in her class showed up with “the Rachel.” Bonnie’s opinion on the matchy-matchy hairdos? On Gloria, the chop looked like a red Marianne Faithful wig. Joanne’s ash blond suited her.

“I’ll put your gowns in fitting room A, Mrs. Kline,” said Bonnie. “Can I get you a cappuccino? Glass of Dom? Something to eat?” She gestured to the two trays of snacks, which Gloria was plowing her way through.

“I’ll follow you.” To Gloria, still arguing about trust and honesty with Shelley, Joanne mouthed, “See you later.”

Client and stylist entered Fitting Room A, the second largest. The PS was occupied by Megan’s client. As soon as the door closed behind them, Joanne removed her clothes. Off with the cardigan jacket and cashmere shell. Off with the tweedy skirt. Within a minute, the woman was down to her ivory slip.

Bonnie peeked at Joanne’s figure. She was impressively fit for her age—a gym rat. Although Joanne didn’t have the wiry Gollum arms of Madonna, her limbs were well-defined. Mike used to say too much sinew was unsexy. Bonnie tended to agree. A woman’s body should be soft. That notion gave her some comfort when she got dressed each morning.

“Let’s try the Herrera first,” said Joanne.

Bonnie slipped the gold, sequined, strapless gown over Joanne’s head and zipped it up. The fit was close. A roomy size six. The gown was old-fashioned glamour for the red carpet or a black-tie gala.

“I feel like a mermaid,” said Joanne. “The sequins look like fish scales.”

That was a “no” if Bonnie ever heard one. “Let’s get it off you,” said Bonnie, moving in to unzip.

But Joanne stopped her. “I think a man would like this dress, don’t you?”

“Of course,” said Bonnie. Did she mean Steve? She would have said, “I think Steve would like this.” Bonnie knew him, after all, and would have an informed opinion.

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