Vicious Carousel (Suncoast Society #25)(29)

“I wasn’t exactly sure of your skin tone, so I made my best guess. But honestly, that doesn’t matter. I was more worried about the concealer. Hold still.”

Tilly opened the new containers of cosmetics and gently started applying concealer, foundation, and powder to Betsy’s face and neck, being careful around her stitches and swollen eye.

Fifteen minutes later, she sat back and tipped her head as she examined her handiwork. “Put the glasses on.”

The new sunglasses still had the tag on them. Tilly reached over and ripped the tag off and handed them to her.

“Better. They hide the stitches and the worst of your eye. It’s obvious there’s something off, but let’s try the hat.”

Tilly removed the tag and handed it to her. Betsy donned it, then Tilly made a couple of slight adjustments to the hat before smiling.

“There. You look like a movie star going incognito.” She helped Betsy stand and made her look at herself in the mirror over the dresser.

Yes, there was a glimmer of who she used to be staring back at her, but the person in the mirror was still a stranger.

“Thank you for this,” Betsy said.

Tilly snorted. “Thank my husband’s black AmEx,” she said. “Girlfriend, we are going shopping later.”





The hair stylist was nice, chatty, and pretended there was absolutely nothing at all wrong with Betsy’s face. She guessed Tilly must have warned her about how bad she’d look, or the stylist was lethal at poker.

Either way, two hours later, Betsy had her first haircut in the better part of a year, layered and hanging at her shoulders, where she’d used to wear it. The stylist had tsked at the poor condition of her hair due to no conditioner and the cheap shampoo Jack had forced her to use, and started off with doing a hot oil treatment that left it feeling better than it had in…well, a long damn time.

She also colored it, adding a few highlights to it and removing the grey starting to creep in, which made a huge difference and made Betsy look younger. Tilly asked the stylist to load them up with product Betsy would need and to add it to the tab.

Once Tilly helped Betsy touch up her makeup and put the hat and glasses back into place, she paid the bill and thanked the stylist with a long hug and a whispered something before taking Betsy’s hand and leading her out to her SUV.

“Where to now?” Betsy asked.

“Ted’s. We’re going to eat lunch there at his office while you chat. I can sit in with you, if you’d like, or I can wait outside.”

“With me, please.”

“No problem. I brought ibuprofen, too, for your pain. I’m sure you’re close to needing some.”

The pain wasn’t quite as debilitating as it had been, but yes, it still hurt. “Thank you.” Her right foot and ankle ached, but Tilly had examined her wounds and determined they weren’t infected.

Ted welcomed them with smiles and an especially gentle hug for Betsy before leading them into his office and closing the door. Tilly and Betsy settled together on the sofa. Betsy took her hat and sunglasses off and set them on the arm of the sofa.

“I’m going to order us pizza, if that’s okay?” Ted asked.

Betsy nodded.

Ted cocked his head. “Betsy?”

“It’s fine.”

She didn’t miss how he and Tilly exchanged a glance. “I’m fine with pizza, honestly. If there’s something I don’t like, I’ll pick it off.”

Tilly’s hand shot up like a kid in class. “Oooh, me! Pick me!”

Ted rolled his eyes, but waved a hand at Tilly to speak.

She turned and leaned forward toward Betsy. “Honey, this isn’t a dictatorship. If you don’t like pizza, or don’t want pizza, or specifically don’t want something on your pizza, say so.”

How long had it been before now since she’d had a choice? “Do they make a white sauce pizza?” she timidly asked, hating the way her voice sounded.

“They do,” Ted said. “A very good one. Would you prefer white sauce?”

She nodded. “Please. And I like mushrooms.”

“Sounds good to me. We have sodas, water, and tea, or coffee, here at the office. Is that all right?”

Betsy nodded.

“Good. Let me get it ordered and we’ll get started.”

Tilly reached over and patted her on the leg. “See? That was easy. Baby steps.”

Betsy thought about her sore right ankle. “It’s about the only kind I can take right now.”





Betsy had never seen a counsellor before, had no experience with the process whatsoever. She wasn’t even sure what to expect and sat there nervously picking at her cuticles while Ted ordered the pizza.

With that done, Ted surprised her by starting with one simple question.

“Where do you see yourself in one year?”

She looked up when she realized he was talking to her. “Me?”

He nodded. “You.”

A flurry of flippant lines crossed through her brain but she caught herself. Jack had hated her one-liners, her quips, her comebacks.

She’d been backhanded plenty of times when she’d said something without thinking about it. Things others had always laughed over. She loved making people laugh.