Open Season by Linda Howard Page A

live here for very long. She’ll find someone special in no time at all. Daisy, honey, if there’s anything in the attic you want, just take it.” She took another look around the littlehouse. “Just what sort of decor do you have in mind?” she asked doubtfully, as if she couldn’t think of anything that would truly help the looks of the house.
    “Cozy and comfortable,” Daisy said. “It’s too small to try for anything else. You know, overstuffed chairs with afghans thrown across them, that kind of thing.”
    “Hmmph,” Aunt Jo said. “Only afghan I ever saw wouldn’t stay put unless you tied him down. Stupidest dog in the world.”
    They all began giggling. Aunt Jo’s sense of humor tended to the absurd, and both Daisy and her mother greatly enjoyed the flights of fancy.
    “You
will
need a dog,” Evelyn said suddenly, looking around. “Or burglar bars on the windows and an alarm system.”
    Burglar bars and an alarm system would add another thousand to her growing expenses. Daisy said, “I’ll start looking for a dog.” Besides, a dog would be company. She had never lived alone, so a dog would help ease the transition. Having a pet again would be nice; it had been eight years—my goodness, that long!—since the last family pet had died of old age.
    “When do you think you’ll move in?” Aunt Jo asked.
    “I don’t know.” Doubtfully, Daisy looked around. “The utilities have to be turned on, but that won’t take long. I’ll have to buy kitchen appliances and have them delivered, shop for furniture and rugs, put up curtains. And paint. It definitely needs a new coat of paint.”
    Evelyn sniffed. “A good landlady would have repainted after the last tenants left.”
    “The rent is a hundred and twenty a month. Fresh paint doesn’t come with the deal.”
    “I heard Buck Latham is taking paint jobs on theweekends for extra money,” said Aunt Jo. “I’ll call him tonight and see when he can do it.”
    Daisy heard another
cha-ching
in her bank account. “I can do the painting myself.”
    “No, you can’t,” Aunt Jo said firmly. “You’ll be busy.”
    “Well, yes, but I’ll still have time—”
    “No, you won’t. You’ll be busy.”
    “What Jo means, dear, is that we’ve been thinking, and we think you need to see a fashion-and-beauty consultant.”
    Daisy gaped at them, then smothered a laugh. “Where am I supposed to find one of those?” She didn’t think Wal-Mart had a fashion-and-beauty consultant on staff. “And why do I need someone to tell me how I want to look? I’ve already been thinking about that. I want Wilma to cut my hair, and maybe put in some highlights, and I’ll buy some makeup—”
    Both Evelyn and Joella slowly shook their heads. “That won’t get it,” Aunt Jo said.
    “Get what?”
    Evelyn took over. “Dear, if you’re going to do this, then do it right. Yes, you can get a different hairstyle and start wearing some makeup, but what you need is
style. You
need to have a presence, something that will make people turn and look at you. It’s presentation as much as anything else, and you aren’t going to find that in the health and beauty section of the drugstore.”
    “But I’m already going to be spending so much money—”
    “Don’t be penny wise and pound foolish. Do you think General Eisenhower could have established a Beachhead on Normandy if he’d said, ‘Wait, we’re pending too much money, let’s only send half as manyships’? You’ve saved your money all these years, but what good is money if you never use it? It isn’t as if you’ll be spending everything you’ve saved.”
    Daisy could be convinced, but she couldn’t be bull-dozed. She gave their proposition a moment’s thought. “I want to try it my way, first. Then, if I’m not satisfied, I’ll find a consultant.”
    Having known her all her life, both mother and aunt knew when she’d made up her mind. “All right. But don’t let Wilma do anything to your hair