The Wife Who Knew Too Much(51)
“Whatever you wear, you’ll look beautiful. Be ready by six tomorrow night, okay? Dennis will drive you.”
The next morning, I asked Juliet to come to the master suite and give me pointers on what to wear. We stood in the dressing room, which had been stripped bare except for the tiny corner where my clothes now hung.
“Too bad I already sent off Mrs. Levitt’s things,” she said. “She had the most glamorous Saint Laurent tuxedo with sequined lapels. It wouldn’t’ve fit you, though. She was very petite.”
She looked me up and down skeptically.
“I wouldn’t feel right, wearing her clothes.”
“I know. I just meant, that suit strikes the right balance for this event. Discreet, but impactful. Show me what you have. Let’s see if we can find something similar.”
It took literally three minutes to go through my wardrobe. I owned five pairs of jeans in various washes, three sets of black pants and white tops that I wore to work, sweats, leggings, a large pile of T-shirts, a few cute tops, and several dresses from Target and Old Navy that I’d worn on my honeymoon.
“What about this? It looks good on,” I said, holding up my favorite of the dresses, a flowy, floral print.
“Honestly? That looks like something a sorority girl would wear on a Tinder date.”
“I’m sorry, Juliet. As you see, my wardrobe is basically jeans, and the black pants and white shirts I wore for work.”
“Work? What did you do before?”
“I was a waitress.”
She gave me a strange look, and my stomach clenched. Unlike with Gloria, I always felt that Juliet was judging me.
“As you can imagine, I’m kind of out of my league here. Could I possibly impose on you to help me find something to wear?”
“Mrs. Levitt had a stylist in the city who chose clothes for her, but I could never get you an appointment on such short notice.”
“That seems like a lot of fuss, anyway. You can help me, can’t you? For this dinner, I’d just like to wear something simple. Maybe something like what you’re wearing.”
“This is just a Theory pantsuit. It’s the uniform for Mrs. Levitt’s assistants. The girl before me wore them, and the girl before her. It’s fine, but they’ll be expecting something more. As Mr. Ford’s wife, you really should wear couture to an event like this. To find something, to have it tailored—we just don’t have time.”
“Is there a mall nearby?”
“There’s a boutique in town that carries high-end things. I’ll call Dennis to bring the car. Let’s hope they have something.”
I ended up with a simple V-necked black dress and a pair of stiletto-heeled black pumps with crystal buckles. The items totaled over a thousand dollars, which Juliet had to charge to the Windswept household account because my credit card was declined. The beauty people who normally did Nina weren’t available on short notice, which was fine with me. I was more comfortable doing my own hair and makeup.
At five minutes to six, I was putting on mascara when there was a knock on the master-suite door.
“Come in.”
Juliet walked into the dressing room. She looked me over as I stood in front of the full-length mirror.
“What do you think? Am I okay?”
She frowned. “It’s a little—”
“A little what?”
“—a little too basic. Maybe an updo?”
My blond hair hung past my shoulders, thick and wavy and guileless.
“I’m not good with hair.”
“Me, neither. We need to dress you up a little. Hold on, I have an idea.”
She punched the combination into the safe, and the door swung open.
“The clothes are gone, but the jewelry is still here.”
“Oh, I couldn’t,” I said.
“Jewelry isn’t like clothing. It’s much less personal. Here, this will look nice with that dress.”
She held up a glittering emerald choker. Standing behind me, she fastened it around my neck. It lay cold and heavy against my throat, but the effect was instantly transformative. I went from being an average girl in a basic black dress to looking like a starlet.
“It’s beautiful. Are you sure this is okay?”
“The jewelry belongs to Mr. Ford, and he’d want you to look nice when you meet his colleagues. Dennis is downstairs with the car to take you to the helipad.”
“Helipad?”
“Yes, how did you think you’d get to the city? The dinner starts in an hour. You’d better go.”
“Thank you. You’ve been such a help.”
I hugged her and ran out.
I’d never been in a helicopter before, but Dennis assured me it was a normal way to get into Manhattan from out east. Normal, that is, if you were fabulously rich. He introduced me to the pilot, who strapped me in and gave me headphones to protect my ears from the noise. I raced into the sunset, as lacy waves tumbled on the shore below, and the lights of Manhattan glittered in the distance like Oz, unable to believe that this was my life.
When we landed, a driver sent by Levitt Global waited to take me to the restaurant. The dinner was being held in a private room at Le Bernardin, a famed Manhattan restaurant with three Michelin stars. I’d looked it up online and knew those stars meant the most exquisite food on the planet. I was so excited to eat there that it kept the butterflies in check at meeting Connor’s business associates for the first time. The driver came around to open my door, and I stepped from the car carefully, teetering in the high heels. As I maneuvered to the curb, a dark-haired man dressed entirely in black ran up and took my picture. As the flash went off, I cowered, allowing him to get off several more shots.