Chapter Two:
What was I thinking, agreeing to this? Elle’s mind was in a panic and her stomach in knots. As she sat quietly in the women’s bathroom on the 12th floor of the Charmant Publishing House, she was close to losing her dinner in one of the stalls that she had not yet cleaned. I could get fired! The thought sent another way of nausea through her as Claire fretted and fussed over her hair and her make-up. As the minutes ticked by, she became more unsure of the plan that Claire had cooked up.
They had arrived in The Pumpkin with their fancy clothes and make-up stashed away in the back seat. Elle couldn’t even begin to fathom where Claire had procured such beautiful gowns, but when they’d arrived at The Charmant Publishing House, all her curiosity and wonder had turned to anxiety. With half wet hair, they made their way to the elevator, greeting overzealously their fellow cleaning cohorts. Elle and Claire, once everyone had gotten off the elevator, then proceeded to take it back down, sneak back out to the car, and gather all the things they needed to get upstairs to the party.
Now here they were, almost ready to go. Claire had finished first, and knowing how Elle was useless when it came to doing anything with her curly hair, and usually shied away from cosmetics, she offered to do both things for her. Grateful for the reprieve, Elle now focused on breathing and not thinking about the worst case scenario, if the plan fell through and they were unceremoniously kicked out and fired. She wished she had Claire’s confidence, but right now she was seconds away from saying to hell with the whole idea and putting back on her cleaning scrubs.
Claire must have sensed how close Elle was to flying out of the seat they had pulled into the bathroom from the office, because she began asking her questions and trying to distract her with lame jokes with terrible punch lines. It seemed to work, because as she giggled and snorted away the next few minutes, she found that the knot in her stomach had eased enough for her to take deep breaths again.
“And we are done!” Claire stepped back and let out a small grasp before a look of pure joy spread over her face.
“Oh Elle, you look amazing. Not that you don’t always, but with that gown and the shoes, and...” she continued to prattle on, but Elle didn’t hear her; as she turned and finally got a closer look at herself, she was stunned at what she saw.
A beautiful woman stood before her, her hair, which usually was unruly at worst and frizzy at best, cascaded in silky satin ringlets down to her mid back. The color which her half-brothers had used to call dingy, dirty copper was a vibrant bronze that made her emerald green eyes more prominent. The freckles that were splattered across her cheeks, nose, and even up to her ears, which in the past had made her look like she was covered in flecks of dirt, now looked like artfully placed speckles of color that drew attention to her long lashes and rosy plush lips. But all of this could not have come together had it not been for the dress. It was beautiful, a satin green that matched her eyes, with a sweetheart neckline that elegantly showed the curves of her chest without revealing too much. Elle usually did her best to hide her curves, feeling uncomfortable in overly tight clothes, but this dress hugged all the right places, making her look both sexy and sophisticated in a way she’d never believed she could successfully pull off.
In all the years when she was pampered by her father, and put through awkward social function after function, never had she felt that she looked this beautiful, now standing in a bathroom that she spent night after night on her knees cleaning. Elle was amazed at how funny life worked.
Claire gently grabbed Elle’s hand and pulled her away from her reflection. “Are you ready?” she asked, handing her the purse that matched her dress. Elle could only nod, afraid to speak due to the fear that was back in full force. Claire seemed to understand and wordlessly grabbed her hand and pulled her towards to elevator. The doors opened instantly and they hurried in, lest they lose their nerve.
Claire clicked the button for the 26th floor and they anxiously began their ascent. Elle looked at Claire, her pale hair pulled up in an elegant chignon, with little wisps left out to frame her oval face. The red of her dress matched her lipstick color perfectly, a kind of brick red or fire engine color that made her skin look pearly and luminous. The high neckline and simple drape of the dress seemed conservative, until she turned and you saw that her back was fully exposed save for a few crisscrossings of material. It was a gown that she seemed born to wear, and her confidence shone through even just standing there. But Elle could see that she was nervous; it was in how she crossed and uncrossed her fingers continuously, a little nervous habit that she had had since they were children, and a tender feeling washed over her. She leaned in close, and squeezing the hand she was still holding, whispered, “We can do this.”
Putting on a big smile she didn’t know she was capable of wearing, she looked straight ahead as the door dinged open and they walked out of the elevator, heads held high, confidently moving into the throng of party goers.