"You're what?" She blinked.
"Are you sick?" Rashard leaned in for a better look. "Your nose is quite red and though I always enjoy a good robe for relaxing, yours looks a bit like . . . well, frankly, it's seen better days."
"I'm not sick."
"Ah. I see. Faking it then? Was that your plan to get out of the date? Believe me, faking anything simply isn't worth the time." The man turned to Gloria and flicked his wrist. Gloria set down her black case, then slipped out the front door. Moments later she came back with an armful of beautiful, sparkly, lavish gowns.
"Have no fear. We'll have you looking marvelous and feeling like a beauty queen in just a short time." Rashard clapped his hands and the two women sprang into action. "Now, my darling, let's get you somewhere a little more private so we can begin the transformation."
"Transformation?" Overwhelmed, Lucy stood there, gaping like a fish. "Wait. I'm . . . confused. Exactly who asked you to come here?"
"Hired us, my darling. Rashard does nothing for free."
"Who hired you to do this?"
"I'm not quite certain," he answered as he hooked his manicured hand around her forearm and began to lead her up the stairs. "The request came from several different directions. And while we were already booked for another special occasion and usually only work on bridal parties, we were offered a handsome sum to make sure you looked like a princess."
"I don't need to look like a princess."
Ignoring her, Rashard said, "Quite a beauty you are too, hiding behind those pinched cheeks and the paranoid look in your eye." When they reached the top step he turned to look at her. "Why don't you just relax a little? Because we can't wait to work our magic on you. Am I right, girls?"
Gloria and Beatrice uh-­huh'd as they came up the stairs, lugging the black cases and beautiful dresses with them. Barking and bringing up the rear was Ziggy, who was still in tail-­wagging party mode.
"You don't happen to have a vanity, do you?" Rashard asked.
Lucy wrinkled her nose. "A vanity?"
"I'll take that as a no."
When they reached her bedroom, a flurry of activity took place that told Lucy two things. One: Rashard, Gloria, and Beatrice knew what they were doing. And two: she had no clue. Her paranoia, however, was sliding into the amused category as she watched the trio buzz around her room.
"Quickly." Rashard clapped his hands again. "Let's take off the robe so we can decide which dress you'll wear. It matters, you know, to choose the dress first so we can apply the proper makeup and nail polish."
Lucy clutched the robe tighter. "Ummm . . . I'm not wearing anything under here."
"Well then, by all means put on your prettiest underthings. I'm sure your handsome prince will appreciate it. In the meantime, we promise not to peek."
All three of them turned their backs.
What. Like she was going to strip down to her birthday suit right here with perfect strangers in the room?
"Make it snappy, Cindy."
"Lucy."
"Whatever. We haven't got all day."
Lucy opened the top drawer of her shabby chic dresser. She might not have spiffy outerwear, but she did have nice bras and panties. Splurging on something that made her feel a little prettier even though no one else could see was the one thing she did for herself that she refused to feel guilty about.
"Strapless bra, please."
Lucy turned to look at Rashard. "Strapless?"
"You don't have one?"
"Yes, but I never-­"
"-­wear it in public?" Rashard sighed. "You do now, my darling. Don't you worry. Rashard will have you not only looking but feeling like a princess before you step out that door. Your man will never know what hit him."
Her man?
Dear God. She needed a drink.
An hour and a half later, with her eyes closed as Rashard had requested, Lucy stood in front of the only full-­length mirror she owned, which happened to be attached to the back of her bedroom door with double-­stick tape. For the past ninety minutes she'd been buffed, puffed, powdered, fluffed, and schooled on not only how to look like a princess, but also how to actually act like one.
Apparently time for the big reveal had come.
Lucy still didn't know why these people had showed up at her door, didn't know why they'd come prepared with all the fixings to turn a toad into . . . well, not a toad. She didn't know what to expect but she was both excited and scared half to death.