Chapter 22
The makeover process started that very day.
They piled into the Mercedes that Lincoln had purchased from Maureen the day before, giving her twice what she’d paid for it.
After they’d picked up Eddie, they headed to Macy’s so that Lincoln could buy some manny-appropriate clothing.
He’d never been to a department store before, since he generally left those decisions to a personal shopper who came to his house.
Mia volunteered to stay with Eddie in the luxury Mercedes and play games until it was their turn to shop. “This is the nicest car I’ve ever seen,” she explained. “I want to live in it.”
Laughing, he and Zara left her to it and headed into the store.
“I’m going to leave this part to you,” he told Zara.
“And I’m going to leave it to Google.” She did a search on “high-end manny outfits” as they walked through the department store. “This says to go for luxury fabrics, comfort, and functionality because you’ll be running after kids, but you also can’t embarrass the family.”
“What does that translate into in terms of an outfit?” He paid very little attention to fashion. “Back home, a personal shopper picks out my clothes and my valet tells me what to wear every day.”
She rolled her eyes. “I see why you need my help. Don’t worry, I got this.
You just sit there and look pretty.” She sat him down on a padded bench next to the dressing rooms. He gave the attendant a sheepish smile while Zara darted around the menswear department, made a side trip for shoes, and came back with an armload of options and a saleswoman trailing after her.
“Can you take it from here?” she teased, dumping everything into his arms. “Or do you need me to actually put them on your body?”
“I mean, is that an offer?” He adjusted his grip on the pile of clothing. “I got this, although if you hear some sobs, feel free to check in.”
“Roger that.” She squeezed his arm. “Go forth and clothe yourself. I believe in you.”
When he emerged wearing a beige crew-neck t-shirt under a Navy cashmere Ralph Lauren sweater, fitted joggers and Oliver Cabell leather sneakers, with a light rain shell over his arm, Zara applauded with delight. “I’d totally hire you as my hot manny.” She turned to the saleswoman. “Wouldn’t you?”
The saleswoman tapped her chin and eyed him up and down. “One more thing.” She darted away and came back with an Armani crossbody bag. “For snacks and water bottles and so forth.”
“Brilliant!” Zara gave her a high-five, then squinted at Lincoln again. “Maybe a watch, like one of those fancy dive watches or something like that?”
“TAG Heuer. I’ll get one.”
“It’s the stealth-wealth vibe,” Zara explained as Lincoln handed over his black card.
“You want to blend in, like you belong, but you don’t want to stand out.
No one will look twice at you. They’ll peg you right away as part of the entourage, but not the main attraction.
You’ll need to keep the facial hair, with some sprucing up, and wear sunglasses as much as possible so Tanaka doesn’t recognize you. I got you three different options.”
It all made sense to him, but mostly it was just fun being with Zara. The way she bonded with the salespeople, drawing them into the fun, the way she teased him about how his ass looked in those joggers…the whole experience was like walking through a sunny meadow after emerging from the woods.
“Now it’s your turn,” he told her, as he handed her the credit card. “Want some help?”
“Nope. I got this. I’m already googling ‘obscenely wealthy single mother with a manny’ outfits. Why don’t you practice being a manny and take the kids for lunch? I’ll need to do something to my hair, too. I’ll text you when I’m ready.”
For a manny dry run, the afternoon went pretty well.
After a lunch of mahimahi burgers and fries, he and the kids walked down Ali’i Drive, where workers were cleaning up after the storm.
They watched for a while; Eddie found it all fascinating, and so did Lincoln, once he could slow down to the boy’s pace.
Mia spotted a friend, and they peeled off for a mocha latte.
Everyone passing by had a storm story to tell—someone had watched a chicken coop get swept out to sea, someone else saw a lifeguard fish a dead goat out of the ocean. The beaches would be closed for at least two more days, people were saying.
That would be helpful because Tanaka’s family was more likely to stay within the resort if the beaches were closed.
Mia reappeared, and they all went for ice cream.
As she licked her mango sorbet, Mia talked about what she’d been going through at school.
He gave her what wisdom he could based on his younger years.
Eddie fed his cone to a wandering flock of chickens.
It was the most purely pleasant day that Lincoln had spent in a very long time.
Was it possible he was a born manny rather than a businessman? Perish the thought.
When Zara texted that she was ready, they drove back to Macy’s and waited in the parking lot for her. The sun made the wet pavement gleam, and the reflected light had him shading his eyes, but the woman emerging from the exit outshone it all.
She wore a billowy chiffon maxi-dress with delicate swirls of apricot and pistachio.
It flowed to her ankles but somehow managed to show off every curve of her body.
He caught a glint of subtle gold at her neck—nothing ostentatious, just the ultimate in quiet luxury.
A wide-brimmed Panama hat perched on her head, and tortoiseshell sunglasses covered half her face.
Her thick, straight russet hair was pulled into an elegant ponytail at her neck.
A shop boy followed after her with several large shopping bags. A woman like that didn’t carry her own bags, of course.
Stealth wealth.
Wait. He gave a double-take. Time seemed to slow to a crawl.
It couldn’t be. The way she carried herself…
This woman walked like someone who had never had to wash a dish or carry a bag in her life.
She walked like a queen. She walked like someone who never hurried because she was the one who set the pace.
She held herself like someone accustomed to drawing the awed attention of everyone she passed.
No, impossible, not with that straight hair…
She rapped on the door of the Mercedes and mouthed something. Completely flustered, he fumbled the button to roll down the window.
“Can you open the trunk?” she said in that familiar husky voice.
Numbly, he pressed the button to open the trunk. It really was Zara. To the billionaire manner born.
The shop boy loaded up the bags and accepted a tip from Zara. He walked away, backwards, as if unwilling to stop staring at her even if he got hit by a car on his way across the parking lot.
“I still need to get a manicure,” Zara said as she plopped into the passenger seat. She took off the Panama hat and set it on her lap. “But I can probably do it at the resort. I’ll make up some story about being delayed because of the storm.”
“Uh huh,” was all he could manage.
Mia leaned between the front seats. “Nice. Total rich-bitch vibes, Zara.”
“Thanks,” she said, looking pleased. She wore light bronze lip gloss that made her mouth look even sexier than before. “Exactly what I was aiming for.”
“How—” Lincoln stammered. “How did you…”
“Well, I wish I could give Google all the credit, but in this case, I had another excellent teacher.” She lowered her sunglasses and glanced toward Lincoln. “Don’t make me explain it.”
Ah. Her father, Lucky Lou Morrissey, the con man.
“It was Daddy,” said Mia, oblivious to Zara’s warning frown. “She used to help him with his scams. And don’t pretend to be above it all. Everyone knows billionaires are the biggest scammers of all.”
Zara shot a death glare toward the back seat. “She’s been getting into politics,” she told Lincoln. “Just ignore her. Although she is correct about our father.”
“Hey, I’m not here to defend the billionaires,” Lincoln said mildly as he started up the car. “I’m just the manny.”