Butterfly Summer. Arlene James

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      Both of the Gordons were staring at her open-mouthed as she punched the elevator button for herself. Fortunately, the door slid open immediately.

      Ethan quickly joined her. He waggled an eyebrow at the Gordons as the door slid closed on them, then dropped a knowing look on Heather.

      “Waves,” he whispered, rolling his free hand in an up-and-down motion. “Huge, crashing waves.”

      Whether that was good or bad, Heather still couldn’t say, but she fortified herself with a deep breath as the elevator drew to a halt. When the door slid open, Ethan stepped out first. Heather, in fact, was seriously considering going right back down and taking herself home to a hot shower, hoping it would be her old self who emerged from the steam.

      She never got the chance.

      Ethan reached inside the elevator, took her by the arm and insistently tugged her out into the reception area. Then he just stood there, clasping his cameras behind his back while the receptionist smiled in greeting, glanced at Heather, dismissed her, did a quick double take and dropped the pen in her hand.

      “Waves,” he said again quietly, taking Heather by the arm once more and swinging her around, propelling her in the direction of her office. “Great big rolling waves.”

      He made a sound like a wave crashing against the seashore. Heather couldn’t suppress a smile, even as she cringed at the attention she was bound to receive from everyone she met today.

      The receptionist must have gotten on the phone at once, because people began popping up out of their cubicles. As she passed her coworkers, Heather heard various comments, most of them sotto voce.

      “Whoa.”

      “Wow!”

      “I’ve gotta get my hair done.”

      Even, “That can’t be who I think it is.”

      Ethan grinned as if all the attention was for him.

      When they reached Brenda’s desk, Heather’s usually loquacious assistant slowly rose from her chair. Jaw dropping as she confirmed for herself that it was Heather standing before her, Brenda bobbled the water bottle from which she’d been drinking, splattering her blouse before she got it back under control.

      Ethan announced in a ringing tone, “Heather had to substitute for the makeover candidate, and I think it might well be our best one so far.” Heather gulped, still uncertain whether to be pleased or embarrassed.

      Amy was walking by just then, a clipboard and pen in hand. Hearing Heather’s name, she paused. Her eyes went wide as she took in the change that had come over her sister.

      “Did I hear you say that Heather was this month’s makeover subject?” she asked Ethan.

      “See for yourself.”

      Amy let the clipboard drop, declaring, “Ellen’s outdone herself!”

      “Uh, actually,” Heather muttered, “Ellen wasn’t there. I— I thought she might’ve come back here.”

      Amy shook her head, eyes still wide, and muttered absently, “I was just looking for her. Nobody’s seen her.”

      “Oh. Well, she’ll probably be in later,” Heather surmised uncomfortably. “I’d like her to know that we at least got the shoot finished before our time ran out.”

      “I’d like her to know that the shots are spectacular,” Ethan put in, lifting the trio of cameras that he still carried. “And I’ll soon have the pictures to prove it.” With that he slanted Heather an I-told-you-so look and sauntered away.

      “Will you look at you?” Amy declared. “You’re gorgeous!”

      Heather glanced at Brenda and then back to her sister. “You really think so?”

      They both exclaimed, “Yes!”

      “Except for that dress,” Amy qualified apologetically.

      Heather looked down at herself with a grimace. “It’s too big, isn’t it?”

      Amy nodded. “Too big. Too out of style. Too frumpy. I love your hair!” She started as if an idea had just come to her. “Let’s go shopping later. Engel’s has their summer stuff on deep discount.”

      “And it’s still out of my league,” Brenda complained, dropping back into her chair. “But the new you deserves a shopping spree.” To Heather’s amazement, she actually teared up. “I can’t get over how different you look!”

      “Oh, Bren! It’s all right. I haven’t changed inside, you know.”

      “I know,” Brenda wailed, sniffing. “But now you’re as lovely on the outside as you are inside!”

      Heather laughed and looked to her elegant, sophisticated, beauty queen sister.

      “Okay,” she said. “Shopping it is. In for a penny, in for a pound, I guess.”

      Amy did a little victory dance and went on her way. That pretty much summed up how Heather was feeling at the moment.

      It was just too bad that the person who had set this in motion wasn’t here to see the results of her handiwork.

      Heather straightened the seams of the tiered chiffon skirt before pulling on the white knit top, then slid her feet into thong sandals with tiny heels. As inexplicably nervous as the day before, she slowly turned to face the full-length mirror on her closet door.

      Surprisingly, the flowered, coral-hued chiffon that ruffled about her knees looked just as trim and fashionable as it had in the dressing room of Engel’s department store. Moreover, the simple scoop-necked top set off the skirt perfectly, and she didn’t even mind that it exposed her birthmark.

      Tentatively skimming her fingers over the irregularly shaped spot, she remembered how intently Ethan had focused on it yesterday. He’d murmured something about it being shaped like a rose as he’d positioned her to get the best shot of it. Funny, she’d never thought of it like that, but now that he’d mentioned it, she was seeing the mark in a whole new way. She was seeing everything about her appearance in a whole new way, from the top of her newly styled head to the tips of her toes in their flirty coral sandals.

      She stepped closer to the mirror. As her image filled up more of the space, the spring green walls, ivory lace and French Provincial furnishings of her roomy bedchamber receded. Heather focused on her face, trying to find fault with the subtle cosmetics that she had applied earlier.

      She hadn’t forgotten how it was done, after all, and she couldn’t deny that she was pleased with the result. Touching her fingertips to the mirror, she half expected to feel them against her cheekbone. It was as if she were really seeing herself for the first time in a long, long while.

      Suddenly ashamed, she bowed her head, telling God how sorry she was for thinking that He’d shortchanged her in the looks department when all along the problem had been her own laziness and perhaps a misplaced sense of modesty, as well. Not to mention an unwillingness to compete with her sisters. She shook her head at that, marveling that she could have СКАЧАТЬ