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I could almost hear Esther Williams saying, “Okay, now give me some eyes.” I pulled out a shelf in my case and lined up everything I’d need to give her some unforgettable eyes.

Almay color cream eye shadow in Mocha Shimmer, Bobbi Brown long-wear gel eyeliner in Black Ink and NYC self-adhesive eyelashes. Plus Maybelline Great Lash mascara in Very Black.

I placed a tube of Revlon Super Lustrous Lipstick in Gen-tlemen Prefer Pink on the shelf for my final touch. If there were husbands to be had in her next life, I wanted her to find one right away. I took a deep breath. I picked up a disposable foam eye shadow brush and dipped it in the Mocha Shimmer.

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I braced one hand on the edge of the casket. I reached for Esther Williams’s eyelid.

When I touched it, it moved.

I screamed. And screamed.

“What happened?” Sophia asked calmly when I stopped.

“It moved,” I whispered. “Her eyelid moved.”

“Don’t worry,” Sophia said. “It’s just wax. They must have had to rebuild part of her face.” She walked over and touched the eyelid lightly, then ran her finger along the lower lip.

“Look, this is wax, too. She might have fallen when she had the heart attack. Or thrown up, and it took them a while to find the body. Sometimes the acid . . .”

I turned around and vomited into the stainless steel sink, then I went outside to wait for Sophia.

SOPHIA HANDED ME MY MAKEUP CASE.
“You okay?” she asked.

“Fine,” I said. I was sitting on the ground, leaning back against a sugar maple tree on the edge of the parking lot.

When I moved my feet, the first dead leaves of the season made a dry, rustling sound. “Thanks.”

“Don’t worry,” Sophia said. “She looks great.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

Sophia smiled. “You want me to follow you back to your place?”

I shook my head. “I’ll be okay to drive in a minute.” She slid down to the ground next to me. I moved over so she could lean back against the tree, too.

“Craig’s moving back into his condo in Boston,” Sophia said. “The tenant’s lease is up this weekend.” Summer Blowout

237

I didn’t say anything.

“It was his idea, but I think I would have broken up with him anyway. You’re much more fun to hang out with.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Especially today.”

“I’m sorry,” Sophia said. “I’m really sorry.” I put my arm around her, and she rested her head on my shoulder. “Do you regret not having kids of your own?” she asked.

“I’m not sure. I know I regret letting Craig make the decision for me.”

Sophia sighed. “Mario’s going to start sending me to New York. He’s got an in for per-diem work at one of the networks.

He and Todd say Boston’s such a tiny market, and they want to expand. They’re talking about Atlanta, too.”

“That’s great. It’ll be good for you to broaden your horizons.” I took my arm back and pushed myself up to a standing position. “Listen,” I said. “The truth is, I didn’t think I could forgive you, but I forgive you. I love you. But if you ever do anything like that again . . .”

“I won’t,” Sophia said. “I promise.” She stood up, too. She gave me a hug.

I turned my head, so she wouldn’t have to smell my breath.

A green Prius pulled into the parking lot. My heart started beating like crazy, but my head knew there was more than one green Prius in Marshbury.

Sean Ryan pulled up beside me and rolled down the window.

“Those things have power windows?” I said. “That seems like a real waste of energy.”

Sophia waved over her shoulder as she walked away. “I’m not even going to look at him,” she said.

Sean Ryan put his car into park and climbed out. “Do you 238

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want to try that greeting again? Maybe something like, ‘How nice of you to fly back early to make sure I was okay’?”

“Thank you,” I said.

“So listen,” he said. “I can’t promise you I won’t die, but it’s probably not going to happen today, so why don’t we just try to keep a positive attitude here.”

I’d actually been thinking the same thing myself. I mean, maybe if the right person floats into your life, you have to jump in with both feet and try to make it work before the tide turns.

“I agree,” I said.

“Well, that’s a first.”

I smiled. “Hey, life goes fast. Before we know it, we’ll both be lying there in a casket, hoping to get makeup on both sides of our faces.”

Sean Ryan raised a well-groomed eyebrow. “That’s your idea of positive?”

I was trying to stay downwind, but he took a step toward me. I put a hand up to cover my mouth. In a perfect world, my nostrils would be filled with the smell of his Paul Mitchell Extra-Body Sculpting Foam and not embalming fluid. My breath would be fresh, and I’d have Nars Eros on my lips, which would shimmer a raspberry rose in the setting sun.

“Boyohboy, could I use a toothbrush,” I said.

“I could follow you to your place and wait while you brush.” I looked at him. He looked at me. “Positively,” I said.

• 31 •

I HAD TO STAND ON MY TIPTOES TO TAKE DOWN THE

summer blowout sign. I cleaned the big picture window at the front of the salon with Windex and a paper towel first, because Mario was watching. Then I unfurled the fall foil special sign I’d designed and taped it up in the same place.

I stepped back to see how it looked. I took a deep breath of crisp autumn air.

Mario came out to join me. “How’s it look?” I asked.

He barely glanced at it. “Nice,” he said. “But listen to this.

I think you might have reeled in a big one.” It had been a crazy week. Sean Ryan managed to get me on
Beantown
. Somebody at DailyCandy saw me on the show, and they’d sent a Today’s Candy e-mail about my kit not just to their Boston list, but also to every major city in the country.

My Web site was hopping, and Mario was helping me stay on top of all the orders.

“That’s great,” I said. “Who?”

“One of Miley Cyrus’s people e-mailed. They want to talk to you about doing a custom foundation for her, and maybe even designing a new look.”

“I can do that,” I said. “But who the hell is Miley Cyrus?

Wait, is she the kid on that
Hannah Banana
show?”

“
Hannah Montana
,” Mario said. “See, that’s why you need me. And you’re going to have to start thinking about cutting 240

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back your hours and giving some of your clients to the other stylists.”

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll talk to Sophia.” I worked on my kit orders in the back room all during lunch and any time I got an extra minute between haircuts. The day flew by. I finished my next-to-last client, and Cannoli and I walked her over to the desk. I looked in the book to see who my last client was. PITA was written beside the name in big red letters.

PITA is something you never want to see next to your name in the appointment book at your hair salon. It has only one meaning:
pain in the ass
.

I turned to look at the waiting area. The Silly Siren bride waved at me.

My heart started beating a mile a minute. I looked down at Cannoli. Her blondish roots were starting to show. I’d grown careless.

Cannoli glanced over at the Silly Siren bride. I held my breath. Cannoli turned around and walked casually into the back room.

The Silly Siren bride still had baby fine hair and a fishlike mouth, but at least she wasn’t dry heaving today. I decided to just play it cool and hope it was all a big fat coincidence.

“Hi,” I said. “Cut and blow dry?”

She was carrying a great big leather bag, and she reached into it now. I thought she might pull out a weapon, maybe try to take Cannoli back at knifepoint. But she only took out a big white photo album.

She handed it to me. “I thought you might want to see the wedding pictures.”

I couldn’t think of another option, so I took the album from her. “Oh, right,” I said. “How are you?” I flipped through a Summer Blowout

241

few pages, though I couldn’t see a thing. “Wow, what a beautiful bride.”

“The best hair I’ve ever had. I’m so coming to you from now on.”

Cannoli must not have been able to believe her ears, either, because she poked her head out into the salon again. I caught her eyes in the mirror and tried to make her go back.

Cannnoli took a step forward.

I shook my head. My heart was pounding in my throat.

Cannoli took another step forward.

“She looks cute as a brunette,” the Silly Siren bride said.

“What?” I said.

“We were so not compatible. I have this great Peekapoo now.” I closed my eyes and took a deep, cleansing breath. “I’m so happy for you both,” I said.

The minute I got rid of the Silly Siren bride, my cell phone rang. I held it up and looked at the caller display. It was Craig.

“Hi,” I said.

“So,” he said. “I’m moving out.”

“Great,” I said.

“I’d like to see you. You know, just to talk.”

“No thanks,” I said.

“Is it that guy from the wedding?”

“Nope.”

“Then what?”

“It’s you. You blew it, Craig, you know? I don’t want to look back, go back. I’m over it. I want something more.” He didn’t say anything. I picked up Cannoli and walked into the back room. I put her down and started putting kits together with one hand.

“Lizzie’s coming home for fall break in a few weeks,” he said. “I was thinking we could all get together.” 242

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“I know she is,” I said. “She called me last night. She’s bringing some of her friends with her, and I’m going to do makeovers for them.”

“Maybe I—”

“Craig,” I said. “You’re not invited.”

“
Paesano!”
I heard my father roar out front.

Cannoli yelped and went tearing out of the back room. I hung up on my ex-husband and followed at a slightly more dignified pace.

I was working on turning Sean Ryan into just plain Sean in my mind. It was a challenge, but I knew I’d get there.

“Hey,” I said. I kissed him, even though the entire room was staring at us.

Sean handed my father a bottle of grappa and me a bunch of sunflowers.

“Hold the fort,” my father said. “I’m off to date your mother.” He held up the grappa. It sparkled in the late afternoon sun. “Holy cannoli, is this one a keeper, or is this one a keeper?”

I drank Sean in with my eyes. “Is the pope Catholic?” I said.

Lisa Bankoff is not only the world’s best literary agent, but on the phone one day she even confessed her own lipstick addiction, which was just tailor-made for this novel. I never did find a way to get Shu Uemura #265E in there, but heart-felt thanks all the same. And a huge thank-you to Tina Wexler, too, for always being there with kind words and keen insight.

Speaking of dynamic duos, Ellen Archer and Pamela Dorman are just the best! I’m so happy to see Voice take off, and thrilled to get to go along for the ride. I’m particularly grateful for a brainstorming luncheon at Café Nougatine with Ellen, Pam, and oh-so-wonderful associate editor Sarah Landis, where the advice might have been even better than the food, and where my brilliant editor Pam Dorman turned a beauty book into a beauty kit with a wave of her magic wand.

I keep threatening to apply for a real job at Voice because I’m just so crazy about everybody there. Jane Comins and Jes-sica Wiener have been honest and forthcoming, and I’ve learned so much from them. Alex Ramstrum is a truly amazing publicist, and I’m so lucky to have Beth Gebhard‘s Southern charm behind me, too. I could write a book about how wonderful each and every person at Voice has been, but they’d probably prefer I write a real book instead, so I’ll settle for sending a great big alphabetical thanks to Anna Campbell, Kathleen Carr, Christine Casaccio, Rachel Durfee, Maha

244

Acknowledgments

Khalil, Laura Klynstra, Claire McKean, Lindsay Mergens, Karen Minster, Shelly Perron, Mike Rotondo, and Sarah Rucker.

A million thanks to Charlotte Phinney for being kind and generous enough to guide me through the mysterious world of hair and makeup for this novel, for letting me shadow her, for answering an endless barrage of questions, and for some great laughs.