Amber winked and pointed toward her head. “Us blondes don’t need much,” she said, twirling one long, pink-tipped end.
Mrs. Dubois’s lip quivered before she ironed it flat with her top lip and buried her nose back in the stack of files.
Almost gotcha. She’d have the woman laughing by the end of the week.
Charlotte and Amber walked down to one of the upscale stores that lined the Erie Canal. There were a few hidden gems down there that Amber visited, but the store Charlotte dragged her into wasn’t one of them. No consignment clothing in this place. The racks were filled with designer names andmatching price tags.
Amber looked over, noticing how Charlotte’s eyes lingered on some of the more daring dresses on the mannequins. Amber pointed to a black sheath dress. “This would look great on you. It’s...less beige.”
Charlotte laughed self-consciously. “I only have this one personality, I’m afraid.” She plucked at her suit coat. “Boring beige.”
Amber turned toward her. “Did you ever play dress up as a kid? What were your favorite outfits?”
“Not really,” Charlotte said. “I mostly just studied. I went to school and studied. I was a wallflower for most of school. The only boys that would talk to me were Theo, Grant, and Ford, and that’s only because they were practically family,” she said ruefully. “I guess I just never really bloomed.”
“How do you feel about that?” Amber asked carefully. She wasn’t trying to force a metamorphosis on the woman, but trying something new couldn’t hurt.
Amber thought back to all of her looks over the years. Maybe she was an extreme case, but she changed her looks more often than she changed her socks.
“I suppose you could say that I have always followed the path that was in front of me. It’s comfortable that way.” She glanced at Amber with a little smile. “Boring too.”
Amber fingered the lace hem of a black slip dress. “Yeah, I get that. And the flip side is that I’ve tried on so many that I’m not sure which version I started with.”
“I envy you,” Charlotte said. “You’re not afraid to take risks.”
Amber let out an indelicate snort. “Oh, I’m afraid all right. This,” she pointed at her Marilyn outfit, “makes me feel a lot braver than I really am.” She held up the black dress. “Sure you don’t want to try this on?”
"Don't you think that looks a little..." Charlotte hesitated,and Amber knew that only good manners stopped Charlotte from finishing the sentence.
"...slutty? Trashy? Sexy as hell?” Amber prompted her. She held up the black slip dress thoughtfully. “Yeah, it could be a little shorter.” She looked over at Charlotte, who paled. “You could totally pull this dress off, though.”
“I don’t think it’s quite the look I’m going for,” Charlotte said diplomatically.
Amber shrugged, "It’s just a look. Think about how you want to feel, then pick what to wear.”
“I want to feel . . .” Charlotte looked embarrassed.
“Tell me. I’ll make it happen.”
“It would be fun to feel sexy for a night, I think,” she said hesitantly. “No one ever looks at me that way.”
“Hold my beer,” Amber said, then laughed at Charlotte’s expression. “We’re going to make a little sexpot out of you yet.”
“Oh, no. That’s not what I want,” Charlotte said quickly. "I have a little black dress I bought in college that will work. Still fits perfectly."
Amber winced. She’d bet money that Charlotte’s dress was a shapeless box of a dress. “How about something like this?” She held up another black gown. It was classic with a twist. When she turned it over, a low plunge in the back turned the dress from stately to subtly sexy. It was perfect.
“I suppose that would work,” Charlotte said doubtfully.
“It’s perfect. Demure with a hint of sexiness that will make you feel like a million bucks.”
“I guess it can’t hurt to try it.” Charlotte held out a dress. “I think something like this would look beautiful on you,” Charlotte suggested, bringing out a demure white dress from the rack. It was elegant, with a high neck and long, filmy sleeves—and so very boring.
"Hate it," Amber said immediately, dismissing it. Yet, as sheglanced at Charlotte's hopeful expression, she hesitated. “Maybe if we shortened it?”
"I know it might not be quite what you're used to, but this event is formal," Charlotte explained. “With Theo in a tux and you in this, you two would be striking together.”
The reaction to that interesting choice of words she filed away to examine later.
