“I’m on the same page,” Annie said. “I told them I would let them know when I plan to inspect the premises.”
“We are on the move, my friend!” Myra gave Annie a finger-wiggle high-five instead of the usual slap.
“Oh, I like this version. Much more subtle.”
“Let’s give Charles and Fergus an update,” Myra suggested. They climbed down to the War Room, where the men were gathering more information on Sunnydale.
“Looks like we’re in!” Annie announced. “We shall be inspecting our future quarters in two days.”
“We need photos for your passports and driver’s licenses. I suggest you change the color of your hair, so no one can recognize you.”
“I’ll call Alexis and see what kind of wigs she has. Any particular color?” Myra asked.
“I’m thinking an updated frosted look,” Annie replied.
“I think I’ll go all white,” Myra said. “I’ve been wanting to try it out, anyway. I am surely not particularly fond of all this gray.”
She dialed Alexis’s number and inquired. Alexis wanted to know what length—bangs, or no bangs?
“I’ll go with bangs,” Annie said.
“None for me,” Myra added. “Can you have someone send them over? We need new photos taken.”
Alexis told Myra she could get them over to Pinewood within an hour.
“Excellent. Thanks, Alexis. You may want to include a dark blond wig for Maggie. In case she needs to go on a stakeout. Her red hair is a surefire way to get noticed.”
Alexis had outfitted Maggie numerous times and said she would put a few things together for her.
“I am going to dash home to start packing. Let me know when the wigs arrive,” Annie said as she bounded back up the stairs.
Myra also excused herself, saluted Lady Justice, and exited the massive tech world of Charles and Fergus.
An hour later, a messenger arrived with a trunk filled with wigs and clothes. Myra sent Annie a quick text to let her know their new hairdos were waiting, and it was time to have photos taken for their I.D.s. A few minutes later, the gravel sputtered, announcing Annie’s return. They were like two kids who’d discovered a treasure trove in their mother’s closet.
“Oh, I like this one.” Annie held it up. It was a light brown, collar-length shag cut, with long pieces of blond highlights. She slipped it on her head and checked herself in a mirror. “I think I look like Diane Keaton.” She turned to Myra and slipped on her wire-framed reading glasses.
Myra grinned. “You do, actually. At least a bit.”
Annie continued to check herself in the mirror. “Remember when we snuck into the movie theater to seeAnnie Hall?”
“How could I forget? We did it on a dare. Can you imagine if we had gotten caught?” Myra cringed. “Why do I let you talk me into such things?”
“Excuse me, dear sister. Look what you’ve gottenmeinto.” Annie adjusted the wig. She stood in the three-way mirror. From a distance, one could mistake her for the famous actress. They certainly dressed alike.
Myra flipped on a white chin-length blunt cut. She peered into the mirror. “Helen Mirren?”
“Absolutely! Now if you can affect Charles’s accent, you could be her body double,” Annie joked.
“Aren’t we the glamorous ones?” Myra fiddled with the wig. “Let’s go show the gents.”
Annie and Myra sashayed their way into the War Room.
“How do you do?” Myra asked, faking a British accent. Charles did a double take.
“And you, sir?” Annie turned to Fergus.
“Don’t tell our wives, but I think we found us two chippies,” Fergus said with a big grin.
