29
M icki pulls open the door to the salon as if she’s been waiting for me to show up all morning. “Tell. Me. Everything.” She pulls me inside and takes the jacket off my shoulders.
The place is empty—they’re closed on Sundays—but soothing music still plays over the speakers, and Micki has lit the candle on the front desk. Her eagerness to find out what happened last night only worsens the sinking pit of quicksand in my stomach. Not even a peck on the cheek?
“There’s nothing to tell.” I take a seat in the chair she points to and undo the scrunchie keeping my hair in a bun.
Micki stops what she’s doing with the tray of scissors, combs, and brushes. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, nothing happened.” I force myself to meet her gaze in the mirror.
“Nothing?” She frowns.
“Nothing.” I sigh. “I thought he was going to kiss me, but then… he didn’t.”
“Huh. Maybe he thought you didn’t want to?” She pulls out a big brush and starts detangling my hair.
“I mean, I held his hand on the way back.” And I wouldn’t be surprised if I was drooling.
“Okay, okay.” She considers this. “So there was hand-holding at least—that’s good. Maybe you had sauerkraut breath? Or did you say something weird?”
I glare at her. “Why would I do that?”
She shrugs. “Sometimes you’re a bit… I don’t know.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Is that why Al has been MIA too? Because I’m a bit … what? Man repellent? Human repellent even?
She tugs at a knot at the base of my skull. “I’m sure you were fine. Maybe he wanted to take things slow. Some guys are like that, you know. No guy I’ve ever dated, but he could be the unicorn.”
Just my luck then. My phone dings with a message. It’s a picture of Tilly at the farm. With the morning mist in the background, she looks like a movie dog sent to rescue innocents from peril. Halloween Dog , Leo writes. And that’s it. I turn my ringer off and put it away. “But now what do I do?”
Micki rests her hands on my shoulders and looks at me in the mirror. “You sit back and relax and let me work my magic. When I’m done, he won’t be able to resist you.”
“Pretty confident, huh?”
“You know it. And I’ve been wanting to get my mittens on this for ages.” She holds up a long strand. “A trim, a few accent pieces around the face, a mask, big wavy curls, half updo. You’re dressing up as Belle, so I’ll be giving you princess hair. I don’t even care that it’ll be back up in a bun tomorrow.”
To my surprise, I’m not opposed to her plans. Princess hair sounds good. The costumes I’ve made for the dogs and me are ready and waiting at home, and I couldn’t be more thrilled with how they turned out. I have a cauldron with dry ice set up right inside the doors of Happy Paws, and enough candy for several busloads of kids should it be needed. I’m ready for the trick-or-treaters. Hopefully, Micki’s expertise will also get me ready to see Leo again.
“Then work your magic, fairy godmother.”
“There.” Micki dusts the makeup brush across my nose and stands back.
I’ve been in her chair for hours, and she’s finally done. A cloud of hair spray lingers in the space, tickling my nose, and my neck is sore from holding still, but my reflection in the mirror is worth it. I get out of the chair and study my new self closer.
My daily beauty routine involves little more than mascara and, on occasion, blush, which is why Micki insisted on doing a full face today. “I want you to be Belle,” she said when I tried to protest. “That means shaped brows, lashes, lips, all of it.”
At that point in the process, she’d already plied me into compliance with a lengthy scalp massage, so I didn’t have it in me to say no. I am not sorry.
“I’ve never worn fake lashes before.” I angle my face this way and that.
“They’re magnetic. Super easy to take off. You like?”
I smile at her. “I do.”
Micki hands me a stick of lip gloss. “Put this on after you get dressed.”
“‘Pucker-up Pink,’” I read on the wand.
“Foolproof.” She winks. “What do you think about the hair?”
“What can I say? You’re a magician. I thought you cut it, but it looks longer.”
“It looks healthier.”
I shake my head so that the long waves bounce around my shoulders. “I could be in a shampoo commercial.”
Micki laughs. “Now, that’s a compliment. Does that mean you’ll let me do this on the regular?”
“Do I have to pay?”
She snorts and reaches out to fix a curl caught in my neckline. “I suppose it’s open for discussion. Maybe you make me a dress instead.”
“Deal.” I pull her into a hug. “Thank you for this. I can’t remember the last time I felt this pretty.”
“What are you talking about? You’re always pretty.”
“Not like this. Anyway, I should go get the dogs out before it’s time to get ready.”
“I only have this.” She picks up a witch’s hat from the shelf behind her. “There, ready.”
“Smart.”
“Donna is coming over in a bit, and she’s dressing as Dorothy. We’re pretending we’re coordinating.”
“Without the green face?”
“Too much work.”
“Says the person who just spent three hours getting me ready.”
“Yeah, yeah. Go, princess. Go get your prince.” She shoos me out the door with a promise to stop by the store later because her salon isn’t participating in the candy-giving.
I don’t think she knows the story of Beauty and the Beast very well. Belle doesn’t go get the prince. They have to fall for each other in order to turn him into one.
Trick-or-treating goes from four to six, and the streets are packed. Boris, Cholula, and Cap play their parts as my furniture sidekicks as well as can be expected, monitoring each child who enters for runaway treats. We pose for photos, admire costumes, and hand out candy until my cheeks hurt from smiling. When the flow of people finally subsides, I’ve been called a “real princess” by at least two dozen adorable kids. Micki will get a kick out of it.
For the first time during the event, I step outside the store for some fresh air. I wave to the little Sleeping Beauty who now has a dragon-bedecked golden retriever courtesy of me. It’s nice outside, cool but not freezing, and the skies are clear. Since there’s not a lot of time left, I drag out my fake cauldron with candy and a chair to sit on.
I’ve been too busy until now to think about Leo, but from this vantage point, Canine King is in my direct line of sight. The lights are on inside, and several people crowd the entrance. Maybe I should have texted him back when he sent the picture of Tilly this morning, but I didn’t know what to say. Why didn’t you kiss me? Hardly.
The crowd leaves Leo’s store only for another family to show up at mine. There’s a fairy, an octopus, and a baby in a stroller dressed as an old lady in a curly wig and glasses.
“Are you a real princess?” the octopus asks.
“I am tonight,” I say, placing candy in their bowls.
The fairy looks me up and down. “Are you going to marry the prince?”
“Alas, no prince has visited in many moons,” I say, adding some affect to my voice.
“He’s right there.” The octopus points across the street.
I look up, and sure enough, there’s Leo standing outside Canine King with a crown on his head.
“Come on, kids. Let’s move on.” The dad gathers his brood with a quick “thank you” to me.
“Sure,” I mumble. Leo is staring at me, a baffled look about him. I try a small wave.
He glances down the street and back at his store. Then he seems to make up his mind. All I can do is stand there, statue-like, as he approaches.
“Wow.” He shakes his head slowly. “You look…”
“Like a princess?”
“Gorgeous.”
Oh. “Thanks. It’s all Micki.” I indicate his head. “You dressed up, too. Kind of thought you’d drop the ball on the whole thing.”
He touches his crown. “Looking at you, I feel like this doesn’t count.”
I smirk. “It’s an understated costume, I’ll give you that. But the kids still knew you’re a prince.”
“I was going for king, actually. Because of…” He points to his store.
“Yeah, that makes more sense. Nice one.”
He shakes his head again. “I told you I’m terrible at this stuff.”
“You did.” I chuckle. “I should have believed you.”
“But you.” His eyes do that sparkly thing again. “You made that dress, too? It’s very impressive.”
My stomach summersaults. His attention is bringing back last night. His palm against mine, the high before the disappointment. “Come on, you have to see the dogs.” I lead him inside where the three of them are sleeping.
Leo laughs. “Poor Boris looks miserable. I don’t think candlestick is his color. Here, let me get a picture. You sit there.”
He positions me behind Mrs. Potts, Lumiere, and Cogsworth and snaps a few shots. “You need to frame one of these for the store.”
“Yeah, send me one.” I want to say more, but all the words that come to mind sound so needy.
His gaze jumps past my shoulder. “Shoot, there are people at the store.” He turns in a hurry, but halfway out the door, he stops. “Hey, we’re almost done with this, right? Do you want to go over to the park for some cider after?”
My belly warms again. “For sure.”