Kena looked down at her yellow, satin blouse and wide-leg dress pants. “Yes,” she responded curtly before walking away.
Victor chuckled but quickly stifled his laughter when Taylor cut her eyes his way. He looked down at his itinerary and hummed the words to “My Funny Valentine.” Taylor rolled her eyes and buried her nose in her book until it was time to land.
***
“I’m not wearing that,” Taylor declared, tossing the pink, church-lady hat on the sofa. “Number one, I don’t like pink. Two, how is my hair supposed to go under that hat?”
“Mrs. Creed, we are in thesouth. Women respond well to hats here.”
Taylor could see the frustration in the young stylist’s face. “Look, Samantha. It’s Samantha, right?”
“Yes.”
Taylor smiled. The last thing she wanted was to be rude. “I’m not a hat lady. I'm a big hair, curly, Afro-kind-of lady. Find me something that’sme. And, please, make sure it’s not pink.”
“Gotcha. I’ll be right back.”
Samantha turned to the rack of clothing she’d brought into the suite. She pulled a white pantsuit from the rack. “How about this?”
Taylor assessed the outfit through narrowed lids. “Um-mm... What about the yellow one? Yellow looks good next to my skin.”
Samantha stuffed the white suit back on the rack and grabbed the yellow one. After giving it a onceover, she looked at Taylor with an optimistically raised brow. “I like it. Do you?”
“I do. Can we pair it with a cream pump?”
“Absolutely not!” Samantha refused with a scowl.
She walked over to the shoe rack and grabbed a pair of gold, strappy sandals. “We’ll pair this with a simple gold herringbone and one gold bangle. It’ll say you’re rich but not obnoxious about it.”
Taylor chuckled and relented with a nod. “It’s your show, Samantha. Let’s get me ready for the leading ladies.”
An hour later, Taylor assessed her look in the mirror. As suspected, the pantsuit worked. It covered everything it was supposed to cover and hugged her body in the right places. The gold accessories Samantha had picked out were perfect accessories. It was a good look, except for the hair. The neat bun atop her head was appropriate but much too tamed. Taylor took it down. She pushed her fingers through her thick curls and freed her wild mane. She was determined to fit in without compromising who she was as a woman.
Taylor grabbed her purse and stepped into the large living room. Kena was right. The La Maison d ’Auriette was a beautiful hotel with stunning architectural value, obviously influenced by French and Spanish colonialism. They were staying in the royal suite. It was chic and modern but somehow had kept its historical integrity. As an added bonus, they had a spectacular view of the French Quarter.
“Good morning, Mrs. Creed.”
A young, black woman with cropped blonde hair stepped around one of the two Secret Servicemen assigned to herprotection detail. “I’m Kimberly Graham. I’m an intern in the governor’s office. Kena sent me to act as your assistant until you find a good fit.”
“Nice to meet you, Kimberly. Do people call you Kim?”
She responded with a smile. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Okay. How about I call you Kim, and you call me Taylor? Taylor could see the trepidation in the young woman’s eyes. “I insist,” she said before she could protest.
Kim relented with a nod and handed Taylor a piece of paper. “This is your schedule for the next three days.”
Taylor looked at the schedule, shocked by the long list of tasks. “How am I supposed to do all of this in three days?”
“This plan is to stick and move. You’ll smile, wave, shake a few hands, and leave.”
Taylor smiled. “I like your plan.”
“I’ll get you through it, ma’am. I meanTaylor.”
“Great. Well, we have a brunch to attend. It’s time to meet the Leading Ladies of Louisiana.”
“Yes, but there’s good news.”
