stamped her foot. “Mom! What about the contest? You can’t sneak away. You’ve got to participate to win. That’s what you’re always telling me. ‘Showing up is ninety percent of success.’ Right?”
Lucy hated it when her kids quoted her own words back at her, but she knew Elizabeth was right. She pulled out her cell phone and called Sam.
“I’m not surprised,” said Sam, when Lucy told her she couldn’t make it. “I figured they’d keep you busy. We’ll do it another time.”
“When?” wailed Lucy. “It’s been more than twenty years.”
“I know. It’s pathetic. But I have an idea.”
“Tell me.”
“Nope. It’s a surprise,” said Sam. “Enjoy your lunch.”
Nobody enjoyed the lunch. Lucy and Maria were the only ones who actually ate the oversized deli sandwiches which contained at least a pound of salty, highly seasoned meat. Lurleen regarded hers with suspicion, declaring she preferred white bread and mayonnaise to rye and mustard. Cathy followed the Atkins diet, eating all of the meat and none of the bread, and the others ignored the sandwiches entirely and nibbled on the pickles instead. The motivational speaker was a disappointment, too, offering a single message: You can choose to be happy or sad, so why not choose to be happy? She said it various ways, of course, but each rephrasing boiled down to the same idea. Most disappointing to Lucy, however, was the fact that none of the editors had bothered to show up.
“I could have gone to Sam’s,” she complained, as they boarded the bus that was taking them to the TV studio.
“Shh,” cautioned Elizabeth, as the editors began filing onto the bus.
Lucy watched with interest as Phyllis followed Nadine, the beauty editor, carrying her assortment of bags like some sort of native bearer on a safari. She waited until Nadine had taken her place in a window seat and then arranged her bags on the seat beside her before leaving the bus. Phyllis wasn’t going to the show, and the other editors Lucy had met were also conspicuously absent. There was no sign of Pablo or the art director, Nancy Glass, or the accessories editor, Deb Shertzer. Instead, Camilla took the front seat, accompanied by a large, almost mannish woman with very short hair wearing a severe gray pantsuit.
Lucy listened to the buzz in the bus. “Who’s that?” “Camilla isn’t…?” “Oh no, I don’t think so.” “It would be ironic….” “It would be a hoot!”
Finally, as the bus pulled away from the curb, Camilla stood up and began speaking into a microphone.
“Ladies! Your attention please. As you’ve probably guessed, we’re all going to see the Norah! show!” She paused, dramatically holding up her free hand. “As featured guests! You’re all going to be on TV and you’re all going to meet Norah Hemmings, the fabulous Queen of Daytime TV, in person!”
This was greeted with excitement by the makeover winners, who cheered and applauded. Lucy, however, saw trouble ahead. She hadn’t exactly been winning any popularity contests since Camilla noticed her boots and lobster watch at the before photo shoot, precipitating the unpopular decision to put them all in absurd regional costumes. To be honest, she certainly wouldn’t blame Serena, who didn’t share her daughter’s enthusiasm for being photographed for a national magazine in a swimsuit, if she never forgave her. Ginny and Amanda had no trouble adopting the glum expressions from the Grant Wood painting; they hadn’t appreciated being portrayed as country bumpkins in overalls. Maria and Carmela were enthusiastic sports fans and had enjoyed donning pinstriped New York Yankees uniforms, but Cathy and Tiffany made no attempt to conceal their loathing for the gold-lamé twirler costumes. Lurleen and Faith weren’t happy about the Civil War–era hoop skirts they’d had to wear, either.
It wasn’t Lucy’s fault that Camilla had decided on the demeaning outfits, but she wasn’t confident
Lucy hated it when her kids quoted her own words back at her, but she knew Elizabeth was right. She pulled out her cell phone and called Sam.
“I’m not surprised,” said Sam, when Lucy told her she couldn’t make it. “I figured they’d keep you busy. We’ll do it another time.”
“When?” wailed Lucy. “It’s been more than twenty years.”
“I know. It’s pathetic. But I have an idea.”
“Tell me.”
“Nope. It’s a surprise,” said Sam. “Enjoy your lunch.”
Nobody enjoyed the lunch. Lucy and Maria were the only ones who actually ate the oversized deli sandwiches which contained at least a pound of salty, highly seasoned meat. Lurleen regarded hers with suspicion, declaring she preferred white bread and mayonnaise to rye and mustard. Cathy followed the Atkins diet, eating all of the meat and none of the bread, and the others ignored the sandwiches entirely and nibbled on the pickles instead. The motivational speaker was a disappointment, too, offering a single message: You can choose to be happy or sad, so why not choose to be happy? She said it various ways, of course, but each rephrasing boiled down to the same idea. Most disappointing to Lucy, however, was the fact that none of the editors had bothered to show up.
“I could have gone to Sam’s,” she complained, as they boarded the bus that was taking them to the TV studio.
“Shh,” cautioned Elizabeth, as the editors began filing onto the bus.
Lucy watched with interest as Phyllis followed Nadine, the beauty editor, carrying her assortment of bags like some sort of native bearer on a safari. She waited until Nadine had taken her place in a window seat and then arranged her bags on the seat beside her before leaving the bus. Phyllis wasn’t going to the show, and the other editors Lucy had met were also conspicuously absent. There was no sign of Pablo or the art director, Nancy Glass, or the accessories editor, Deb Shertzer. Instead, Camilla took the front seat, accompanied by a large, almost mannish woman with very short hair wearing a severe gray pantsuit.
Lucy listened to the buzz in the bus. “Who’s that?” “Camilla isn’t…?” “Oh no, I don’t think so.” “It would be ironic….” “It would be a hoot!”
Finally, as the bus pulled away from the curb, Camilla stood up and began speaking into a microphone.
“Ladies! Your attention please. As you’ve probably guessed, we’re all going to see the Norah! show!” She paused, dramatically holding up her free hand. “As featured guests! You’re all going to be on TV and you’re all going to meet Norah Hemmings, the fabulous Queen of Daytime TV, in person!”
This was greeted with excitement by the makeover winners, who cheered and applauded. Lucy, however, saw trouble ahead. She hadn’t exactly been winning any popularity contests since Camilla noticed her boots and lobster watch at the before photo shoot, precipitating the unpopular decision to put them all in absurd regional costumes. To be honest, she certainly wouldn’t blame Serena, who didn’t share her daughter’s enthusiasm for being photographed for a national magazine in a swimsuit, if she never forgave her. Ginny and Amanda had no trouble adopting the glum expressions from the Grant Wood painting; they hadn’t appreciated being portrayed as country bumpkins in overalls. Maria and Carmela were enthusiastic sports fans and had enjoyed donning pinstriped New York Yankees uniforms, but Cathy and Tiffany made no attempt to conceal their loathing for the gold-lamé twirler costumes. Lurleen and Faith weren’t happy about the Civil War–era hoop skirts they’d had to wear, either.
It wasn’t Lucy’s fault that Camilla had decided on the demeaning outfits, but she wasn’t confident
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