Chapter 2
TWO
Grandma Joy’s Words of Wisdom:
‘Always listen to your body, treat it with care, and it will last you a lifetime.’
Damn you, Barbie. You and your size four figure, all over tan, and legs to the moon! Miranda tried to squeeze intoher bridesmaid dress, but the side zip wouldn’t budge. The final dress fitting had only been two weeks ago and the fit was perfect then. But now – if she could manage to do up the zip – the dress might burst open right where the rosette was attached at the hip, spilling her stomach flab like water from an overflowing dam just as she walked down the aisle.
She pressed the speaker button on her ringing phone screen and yanked at the zip again.
‘What’s wrong? You sound weird,’ Trisha, her best friend and bride-to-be said on the other end of the line.
‘Nothing’s wrong. Everything’s all set.’ Miranda forced a smile. Even though her friend couldn’t see her, she hoped it would add reassurance to her voice.
‘Great, I’ll see you on Saturday!’
‘Okay, hun, bye!’ Miranda ended the call and cursed the favourite toy of her childhood again. Barbie wasn’t exactly the healthiest role model, but growing up, Miranda had idolised her. A year before she’d moved with her mother from America to Australia, her cousin had brought her new Princess Barbie over one day and let her play with it. She even had a Ken! Miranda was never allowed to get a Ken doll. After they’d played Ken Takes Barbie to The Oscars and Wins Best Director, Actor, and Producer, and Proposes in his Acceptance Speech , Miranda asked her cousin how old Barbie was...
‘Thirty, of course. Everyone gets married when they’re thirty. After that you’re just too old,’ the nine-year-old love expert had said.
That was it. Silly as it was, young Miranda had vowed to follow in Barbie’s (tiny) footsteps and marry the love of her life by age thirty. If a plastic doll could do it, so could she. And now, there was the issue of the wonky genes she’d inherited, which meant her biological clock was ticking away at double speed. But twenty-two years later, Miranda was no closer to meeting her ideal man and future father of her children than she was to resembling Barbie’s unnaturally beautiful physique.
Should have gone back to the gym before my membership expired , she thought, as she removed the ill-fitting dress from her body. She’d been three times, and meant to keep going, but, you know ... work, study, social life – it all got too busy. And Naomi, the personal trainer, was slightly scary. Actually, a lot scary. At least she’d been in the vicinity of the gym at the recent Life Makeover Club meeting. That was a start, right? Miranda had scooted past reception and up the escalator for fear of running into Naomi, and if by some chance any staff had remembered her, she’d mused she could always tell them she’d been in a coma for six months or something, and that’s why she hadn’t come back.
Miranda put the useless but very beautiful dress on its coat hanger, slid the protective plastic over the top, and hung it in the wardrobe. There wouldn’t be enough time to arrange another appointment with the dressmaker, and she couldn’t bear the humiliation. She had three days to somehow lose the bulge or risk yet another embarrassing ‘Miranda Moment’. Her shift at Harbourside Towers didn’t start for two hours, there was time to launch an emergency weight loss mission. She dressed quickly, sprayed her pulse points with Calvin Klein Euphoria , and shot out the door with fierce determination.
Dry heat and the smell of petrol greeted Miranda where she waited for a taxi and watched passing traffic, mentally shopping for the car she needed. White? No, too clinical. Red? Too flashy. Silver? Yes, silver; classy, stylish, and mature. It didn’t matter what make or model, only that the car was reliable, and ... looked good. Whether she could get something appropriate for the little she could afford was another matter. She’d spent a lot of her savings last week to enroll in The Life Makeover Club, as well as paying for the final semester of her beauty therapy course. Now that Trisha had moved out, she no longer had the luxury of sharing her friend’s car. Not that she needed one much, living in the city meant she could easily catch the light rail, a taxi, bus, train, or even walk, but it was good to have the freedom of being able to go for a drive on her day off, or ducking out to pick up a bulk lot of groceries without paying for yet another taxi or walking alone at night and having to carry them all.
To reduce her money problems, and also prepare for the possible cost of needing to freeze her eggs in another year, Miranda knew she would need to find a new roommate soon, or a cheaper place to live. Or, do the unthinkable – move back in with her mother. She hoped it wouldn’t come to that. She loved her mother of course, but Sue Sheppard was a tad overprotective, and Miranda could only handle her in small doses. Plus, she lived further away from the city which meant a longer trip to work and beauty school.
She’d start with Plan A: Search for a new roommate.
Plan B: If no suitable roommate is found, search for a new place.
Plan C: If no suitable place is found ... resume searching for a new roommate.
The fitting rooms at Target were busy at this time of day; women on their lunch break trying on clothes, and the usual assortment of noisy children dragged in by their mothers. There was plenty of ‘Does it really suit me?’ and ‘Charlie, stop peeking! There’s someone getting undressed in there!’ comments, and giggling teenage girls trying on Push-Up Bras before school started for the year.
After waiting five minutes for an empty cubicle, Miranda entered with five garments, two of which were grabbed off the rack purely to hide what she was carrying. Once in the privacy of the cubicle, despite a couple of peeks from little Charlie, she undressed and put on the support briefs. Well ... attempted to put them on. The first pair only made it to her hips. The second pair fit, but only pushed the flab upwards where it overflowed out the top like a big mushroom. Third time lucky. The TrimTummy briefs with extra support panel were a godsend. Somehow, they compressed everything from just under the bust to the middle of the thighs, the label attributing this to their patented spiral technology. ‘Take that, suckers!’ Miranda patted her stomach and imagined the nasty little fat cells being squished into oblivion.
Two hundred and twenty dollars later, Miranda sashayed out of City Central Plaza and breathed a sigh of relief. The TrimTummy briefs combined with the Lose Weight Fast Detox Kit should do the trick! Money well spent . Except for the twenty-dollar t-shirt – aka – support-brief-hiding-top, and the vanilla scented candle she couldn’t resist. She would start managing her money better from tomorrow.
With half an hour until her shift, Miranda grabbed a fruit smoothie for lunch (sandwiches were a no-no for the next few days), and wandered into her favourite bookshop. She always chuckled on observing the customers with their heads tilted to one side, eyeing the spines of books. She headed straight for the health and fitness section and tilted her head to match.
I must get around to reading that . ‘The No Fail Plan for Permanent Weight Loss’ caught her eye, a book she’d bought a few months ago that still sat unread on her bedside table underneath ‘Dress for your Body Type’ and ‘Six Weeks to a New You’. Miranda’s fingers traced the spine of a book about the keto diet for health, when a book in the self-improvement section nearby diverted her gaze: ‘Finders Keepers – Attracting your Ideal Man’ . Her heart fluttering, she glanced left and right to confirm no one was looking, and picked up the book. The red and gold cover screamed passion and romance, and the picture of two hands lovingly intertwined reminded her of what she longed for. According to the back cover blurb there were seven steps that would supposedly lead her to her soulmate. Seven steps, huh? That sounds doable.
That familiar urge, that possessed sensation Miranda often got while shopping, carried her towards the shop counter. To hide the book, she grabbed the book about keto diets on the way. Maybe it was a bit desperate to buy a book on finding a man, but the clock was ticking and there was no time to waste. Besides, Liz said they had to do something new. This could be it. Wow, not even twenty-four hours since the first meeting and she’d already done her homework. Gold star for me!
Miranda tapped her card to pay and slid it back into her purse.
‘Would you like a paper bag?’ the shop assistant asked.
‘No thanks, I’ll put them in this one.’ Miranda shoved the books into the biodegradable bag she’d had to buy from Target for fifteen cents because she’d forgotten to bring her fabric one. She could add it to her overflowing bag collection at home that was probably worth enough to buy dinner with. As she turned away from the counter, the weight of the bag lessened as it gave way, the contents falling on the floor in front of the line of people behind her. Damn! She shouldn’t have bought the heavy candle. Everyone stared for what seemed like a whole five minutes at her little self-improvement collection: a detox kit, beige support briefs, and a book on how to find a man – what a desperate combination! In an attempt to avoid an embarrassing ‘Miranda Moment’ at the wedding, she’d inadvertently created another. Warmth flushed her cheeks as she bent down to pick up her items.
‘I’ll get you that bag now.’ The shop assistant grinned.
A man from the line came over to help. ‘Thanks,’ Miranda whispered, keeping her head low.
‘Don’t forget this,’ the man said, handing her the keto diet book that had landed further away.
She looked up at her Good Samaritan and the temperature of her face increased a few degrees. Whoa! Hallelujah, there is a God . The most beautiful blue eyes met hers, and a cheeky smile stretched into his tanned cheeks. ‘Um, thanks.’ She smiled awkwardly, then turned and dashed from the shop into the comfort of the anonymous crowd outside, barely noticing that she’d knocked over a book on the way out.
Why do these things always happen to me?
Miranda walked on with shoulders back and chin raised, trying to force an air of confidence in her stride. She arrived at the hotel to start her shift at reception, then stopped, her jaw dropping.
Oh. My. God .
Knowing there was no easy way to do it, she took a deep breath and stepped through the golden rimmed doors, a blast of cool air doing nothing for the heat climbing up the back of her neck.
‘Miranda, I’d like you to meet our new concierge,’ said Pedro, her friend and colleague of three years.
‘Miranda! Good to see you again.’ The concierge grinned.
Good, my arse. ‘Hi. David,’ Miranda spoke through gritted teeth, her fingers automatically clenching into a fist. She knew all too well who the new concierge was. David Oaks. The one who charmed his way into her life only to charm his way into her friend’s bedroom.