Chapter 15
Mallory
Dash: Pick you up at seven
Me: I’ll meet you there
Dash: Wouldn’t a fiancé pick you up?
Me: Not tonight. You had to work late
Dash: I did?
Me: Yes. Making a little extra dough to buy me a present
Dash: Ah. Message received
I’m nervous. I shouldn’t be nervous because this is about the one-millionth fancy gala I’ve been to in my life, and I know how to do this. I know how to dress, work the room, smile at the appropriate people, and tug them along on the invisible string of hope.
Only tonight, I’m not going to hint at any of those things.
“At least the dress is gorgeous. The rest of you…kind of a mess,” Mary confirms, standing next to me and assessing me in the full-length mirror. We’re a mismatched pair, her wearing a pair of pale yellow overalls and red lipstick with her hair in a frizzy knot and me in a floor-length dress, bone-straight hair, and no makeup.
Rufus is splayed out on the floor, snoring like a bulldozer.
“Thanks, Mare. Not really the look I’m going for, though.” She’s right, however. The dress is perfect for tonight. Long, silky, black. It hugs every curve, and my four-inch stiletto heels make me look taller and slender.
Then there’s the rest of me. Dark circles rim my eyes because I haven’t slept in two days worrying about what will happen tonight with Dash. I’m not sure I’m a good enough actress to pretend I’m smitten with him. Or to convince myself that I’m not.
“It just feels like a lot. It’s stressing me out.”
“The lying part?
“Yes. I don’t know if I can make it seem believable that we’ve been secretly falling for each other when I’m pretty sure I’ve forgotten how to do that.”
Mary studies my dress in the mirror before hiking it up at the waist. “Are you sure this wouldn’t look better with a belt?”
I laugh. “I’m sure.”
“It needs something. It’s too plain otherwise. Do you have jewelry or something? Or maybe it’s your hair. Can we do something to it so it’s not hanging down limp?”
Given that I went into St. Helena earlier for a blowout, I’m not thrilled with Mary’s opinion of my hair, but now that I’ve been studying myself in the mirror for the past ten minutes, I have to admit she’s right. Something is missing, and it’s not just undereye concealer.
“You think I should curl it?”
“No, I think I should curl it.” Mary tromps off toward my bedroom, where I hear her rustling around. She returns a moment later with my blow-dryer, a round brush, and a curling iron. “You have all these tools, yet you go to a salon for a blowout?” She tsks and walks right past me to the kitchen where she opens and slams cupboards.
I stand in my living room, the only place in my house with a full-length mirror, and contemplate biting my nails. The only thing that prevents me is the fresh coat of polish from my manicure earlier today.
A second later, I hear a staccato popping sound in my kitchen, followed by the slam of the microwave door. Mary appears with a bowl of popcorn and a bottle of beer. She hands the bowl to me.
“Here. This will keep your hands busy and won’t ruin your appetite for tonight.”
“Thanks. Where did you find popcorn here?” I try to recall buying it, and I’m pretty sure I never did.
“I brought my own. Never trust another person to have the right kind of snacks.”
Gesturing to the beer in her hand, I assume it’s part two of her plan to calm me down. “I don’t want to be tipsy before I get there, but thanks.”
She holds it close to her chest while she plugs in the curling iron. “Sorry, mate. This is for me. You need to keep your wits about you and remember why you’re doing all this. For the sake of your future, the one you’ve been busting your arse for all these years going to business school.”
“I know. You’re right.”
“Good. Now let me fix your hair and do your makeup. One benefit to growing up in a town where there’s not much to do is my friends and I were great at makeovers. I’ll have you looking so good that it’ll make Dash’s job easy. Everyone in the room will believe he’s fallen for you.”
I laugh at her confidence. “He’s got some acting chops. He’ll be able to pull it off either way. I’m just worried about keeping up my end.”
Mary chuckles and shakes her head.
“What?”
“You really think you’re going to marry Dashiell Corbett and not fall in love with him?”
“Come on, you’ve met him. He’s not all that.”
She bites her lower lip and shrugs. “I have seen him, and he’s quite nice to look at. And his hot meter went up even more when he sent Felix off running scared.”
“His hot meter?” I laugh, gathering all my makeup supplies in one hand and pulling a chair over so Mary can get to work. “I did enjoy that, I’ll admit. But now that I’m getting to know him a little bit, the spell is broken. He’s just a regular guy.”
“So you’re telling me you don’t fancy him even just a little bit?” Mary picks up some undereye concealer and unscrews the cap. She squirts a little onto the back of her hand and uses a brush to dab it beneath my eyes before blending it. Presto, my dark circles are gone.
“He’s fine. He’s no different from any other man I’ve gone on a date with in hopes of laying some groundwork in the winery world for when I start cooking on all burners and relaunch Autumn Lake. It’s just business.”
Lies, lies, and, oh yes, even bigger lies. But maybe if I keep telling them to myself, I won’t turn into one of his groupies. The last thing I need is to develop feelings for a guy who doesn’t do relationships.
“Look down.” Mary sweeps some powder across my eyelids. “If I wasn’t already your friend, I’d really dislike you. Your skin is perfect. Not a blemish.”
“Thanks. You grow up on a farm in California, you wear a lot of sunscreen.”
“So you and I aren’t that different in how we were raised, I’m discovering.” She dips a brush into a pot of liquid eyeliner. “Close your eyes.”
I obey, slightly worried Mary and her friend in the English countryside may have a different style of makeover than I’m looking for tonight. I hope she doesn’t overdo it. I feel her dabbing little dots onto my lashes and then feel a breeze as she fans my face with her hands.
“You can open.” She studies my face like I’m a work of art, stepping back and tilting her head before picking up another brush. She dabs liquid blush onto my cheeks, fans it with her fingers, then applies lipstick with a tiny brush. Another head tilt. Then a nod. She seems satisfied.
Before she lets me look, Mary gets to work with the curling iron, and moments later, I feel bouncy curls hit my shoulders as she releases them. I brace myself for the decent chance I’m going to have to scrub off half the makeup and straighten what I’m certain are ringlets worthy of a schoolgirl.
A few minutes later, Mary has finished her beer and my hair. She leads me over to the full-length mirror to see her handiwork.
I have to do a double take. The woman staring back at me in the mirror looks a thousand percent better than how I normally do when I try my own hand at makeup.
“Wow. You’re really good at this.”
Mary blushes but covers by going back to my kitchen for another beer. She returns a moment later, tapping it against her cheeks to cool them.
“Glad you like it. More subtle, yes? Keeps focus on your gorgeous eyes, and then we go for red on the lips. Boom. Dash won’t know what hit him.”
“Ha. I don’t think that’s the goal tonight.”
“Now you’re being absolutely ridiculous. It’s always the goal.” She picks up the liquid eyeliner and gives my eyes a smoky rim that will definitely get Dash’s attention. Then she waves her hand like the fairy godmother she is and sends me on my way.