Reinventing Lindsey Page 6

  “Umm…no. Just thinking. You wanted to ask me something else?”

  “It would be easier if I didn’t have so far to travel every day. You live the other side of the city and it takes me nearly two hours to get here. My car’s as old as Methuselah and ready to die. I need to trade it in soon. Would you consider getting an apartment in the CBD for a few weeks or coming into my office to share the driving some of the time?” asked Daisy with a hopeful expression.

  “I thought I was generous with your remuneration. It was to include travel.”

  “Don’t worry about it…it was just an idea.” Daisy turned her attention back to her meal with a half-hearted shrug. “I’ll manage.”

  Something about the tone of those last two words made Lindsey feel that Daisy had judged her mean-spirited. Perhaps she was being a little unreasonable—it would certainly be efficient to eliminate travel time. As well, if she were magnanimous about this request, she might get a few more wins when it came to things she didn’t want to be railroaded into doing. “I have a small cottage on the estate you could use.”

  Daisy glanced up quickly. “A cottage?”

  “It’s quite comfortable. My programmer stays there overnight occasionally. It has all the essentials: Wi-Fi and a study if you need to work at night. Also, a stove and microwave for breakfast. You can have your lunch and the evening meal with us.”

  “Thank you. That’s very generous of you.”

  “Excellent. Then that’s settled,” said Lindsey with a nod. “If you come over tomorrow, you can unpack before we go on this…ah…shopping expedition. What time is the appointment?”

  “Eleven thirty. It’ll probably take most of the afternoon.”

  * * *

  From her bedroom window on the second floor, Lindsey watched an older model red Nissan sedan sporting a dint in the left mudguard, jerk to a stop outside the front door. Her father, whose garage housed a late-model Bentley, an E-type Jag and a vintage Rolls Royce, would have said it looked like it was stuck together with superglue and ran on prayers.

  It came as no surprise who owned the car. Daisy got out, briefly examined the front wheel, gave the tyre a kick, and plucked her phone from her coat pocket. After a brief animated conversation, she popped the mobile back in her coat and bounded up the steps. A minute after she knocked on the door, Bernice appeared and they drove off together to get Daisy settled into the cottage.

  Lindsey sat down on the edge of the bed with a thud, wondering how she was going to survive this vivacious larger-than-life woman invading her quiet life. In fact, she’d had very little sleep worrying about it. What the lessons involved she had no idea, though it didn’t sound as if she was going to enjoy them and she’d probably fail miserably. She had mixed feelings about the shopping spree as well. Buying new clothes was fine. All she had in her wardrobe were suits for work, shirts and pants for the lab, old clothes for gardening, and boxers for bed. Nothing to dress for Daisy’s proposed dates. But she wasn’t going to be cajoled into buying something too outlandish. That was definite.

  After slipping through the shower, she fluffed up her hair with the blow-dryer in front of the mirror, just as Sebastian had shown her. Not that she would ever admit to Daisy, but she loved what he had done with her hair—in fact, the whole experience in the salon had been wonderful. As well as a scalp and face massage, she had been treated to a foot massage and pedicure. A very tasty lunch was served with a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, while Sebastian, who had actually read her book on the future of robotics, conversed intelligently. So, with genuine enthusiasm, she promised to make a follow-up appointment in a month.

  Bernice’s reaction to the new hairstyle had been a little puzzling. After her initial burst of delight, she had fallen silent, teary-eyed. At a loss to understand the unexpected show of emotion from her usually composed housekeeper, Lindsey escaped to her study. She was happy to find Bernice was back to her old self as they sat down for dinner. When she explained that Daisy was going to stay in the cottage, Bernice eyed her in surprise and asked, “What exactly does she do?”

  “She’s a consultant.”

  “Of what?”

  Lindsey launched into her prepared explanation. “She’s an anthropologist, helping me program the robots. Since I never go out, I need to be updated in the social aspects of life in the city. Modern society is constantly changing. I’m going shopping for new clothes tomorrow.”

  Bernice gaped at her. “Do you plan to make escorts out of the robots? That’s a bit ambitious. I thought they were to do simple household chores.”

  “That’ll be what they’ll be used for initially. Eventually though, they will be able to do much, much more. For example, take people places—blind, sick or elderly people who need help outside their homes.”

  “It seems to me you’re putting the cart before the horse.”

  “Maybe it is a bit premature,” agreed Lindsey airily. She took a bite of the roast and deftly changed the subject. “Oh my, this lamb is really tender.”

  The awkward silence from Bernice spoke volumes. It was clear that Lindsey’s explanation, which she granted was a little weak but the only one she could think of, was viewed as ridiculous. To her relief, they never returned to the subject. Bernice didn’t bring it up again either at breakfast, merely nodding when Lindsey had asked her to show Daisy the cottage when she arrived.

  She heard the door open downstairs. Quickly, she buttoned up her blouse, put on her coat and took her brown handbag from its place on the side table. As she always did, she brushed down her skirt with her hand before exiting the room. Daisy was waiting with Bernice in the kitchen, their heads together in an in-depth conversation. As soon as she stepped through the door, they broke apart.

  “Hi,” said Daisy with a little wave. “Ready to go?”

  Lindsey glanced at Bernice, noting her heightened colour. From the guilty look on her face, they had obviously been talking about her. She flicked her eyes back to Daisy. She was dressed in skinny blue jeans with ripped knees, a loose white sleeveless blouse, a wide brown belt and brown ankle boots. An outfit Lindsey would never have considered elegant, but Daisy looked all class. She felt positively drab beside her.

  “I ordered Joe to pick us up here at nine thirty. That’ll give us plenty of time to get into the city. He’ll be here in five minutes.”

  Daisy handed over a piece of paper. “This is the address.”

  Chapter Nine

  Nicolle Jane’s showroom was on the fourth floor of an exclusive shopping block in the CBD. When the lift door slid shut, Lindsey’s stomach churned. It was more a sensory overload—too much happening in too short a time for her to cope well. Daisy must have sensed her disquiet because she gave her back a light rub. “Are you all right?”

  This time Lindsey didn’t recoil from the touch, in fact she welcomed it. Daisy’s presence was reassuring now she was out of her depth. “I’m fine.”

  The elevator opened to an all-white reception area. With a welcoming smile, a leggy elegant woman rose from behind the desk at their approach. “Ms Jamieson-Ford, please come this way.”

  Lindsey grimaced—the receptionist’s eye-catching jewellery and impeccable makeup did nothing to allay her feelings of inadequacy. She trudged along as they were led down a corridor, the short walk punctuated by the clacking of the receptionist’s stilettos on the floor. She allowed herself to relax a little once inside the showroom. It was plush, with a cream pile carpet, comfortable white suede armchairs and rows of bags and shoes that shouted Prada! Armani! Versace!

  A woman appeared from behind a curtain that separated the room from, Lindsey presumed, the clothes and fitting bays. She air-kissed Daisy with a, “Wonderful to see you again, Daisy,” and then turned to her. “Welcome, Ms Jamieson-Ford. I’m Nicolle Jane. I understand you’re requiring a new wardrobe. It’ll be our pleasure to assist you.”

  Nicolle looked to be around forty, her soft face radiating such warmth and understanding that Lindsey felt h
er tension ebb away. Thank god, a mature compassionate woman. “Please call me Lindsey,” she murmured.

  “I would be delighted to. Now if you could come with me, we’ll take your measurements first. One of the girls will bring you a cup of coffee while you wait, Daisy?”

  Lindsey was relieved Daisy wasn’t accompanying them, for she needed to talk to the designer in private. Once through the curtain, she gazed around the large studio-like setting. Racks of clothes filled the brightly-lit space, neatly laid out for easy access.

  Nicolle ignored the clothes, leading her to a private alcove. “Please…take a seat,” she said with a warm smile. “Now this is how we’ll proceed. After my assistant takes your measurements, we’ll adjourn to the showrooms where models will show some of my labels. Once you’ve made your choices, you’ll try them on. My tailors will make sure each item will be temporarily altered to fit you perfectly. They will make the changes permanent for anything you finally choose. Now, have you any preferences?”

  Lindsey let that settle for a minute before she eased the words out. “I’ve had shoulder reconstruction after an accident which left a deal of scarring. I can’t wear anything without sleeves.”

  “No problem at all. We’ll limit the showing to articles with sleeves and those that cover the shoulders. Is there anything else you’d prefer?”

  “Nothing too flashy. I like dressing conservatively, not too many frills.”

  “Of course. I’ve quite a few pieces in my collection that will be just what you’re looking for. Many of my creations have tailored lines. Now come with me so you can be measured. You’ll have to strip to your underwear but keep on your shirt.”

  Lindsey smiled at her gratefully and rose to accompany her to a workspace where a dressmaker mannequin perched. When Nicolle clapped her hands, a woman with a tape measure immediately appeared from a back room. From then on, it was all business for half an hour while the woman impersonally took every possible width and length.

  Finally, Nicolle reappeared. “Well done,” she said. “That’s the tedious part finished, so now you may rejoin Daisy while I assemble the clothes. We’ve prepared a light lunch for you both while you wait.”

  Daisy was sitting back reading a magazine. “Hi there. How did it go?” she asked.

  Lindsey sank down into the chair. “Fine. They’re going to bring us lunch while Nicolle organizes the clothes. Afterward, they’ll model them.”

  “Great. I just adore fashion parades.”

  “Why am I not surprised?”

  “Oh, come on. Don’t be such a grouch. You’ll simply love these clothes.” As if to punctuate that comment, a cork popped behind them. A young woman appeared with a tray of hors d’oeuvres and sandwiches, while another poured champagne into delicate flutes. Lindsey eyed the wine suspiciously. She only ever drank sparingly and rarely while doing business, especially at lunchtime. She hoped it wasn’t a ploy to get her to buy more. Daisy, however, didn’t seem to have any reservations. She was drinking it down with little hums, so not wanting to appear too stuffy, Lindsey took a sip.

  When the flavour burst over her taste buds, she let out a moan of pleasure too. It was by the far the best champagne she’d ever tasted. No doubt, though, she’d be paying a small fortune for it. The cost of the hair salon had been enough to raise her now neatly shaped eyebrows. God knows what she’d be handing out today. She took a bite of a caviar and salmon canapé and gave it an A1 rating as well. “How do you like the cottage?” she asked.

  “It’s brilliant thanks. And I’ll simply love the spa.”

  “I’ve one too.” She didn’t add that she had installed it to help with her rehabilitation.

  “I just adore relaxing with jets of water thrusting against my body. Don’t you?”

  Lindsey sucked in a sharp breath at the image. “It is…um…nice,” she wheezed out.

  “Hey. Are you all right? You look pale.”

  “No…I’m fine.”

  Daisy took the bottle from the ice bucket and topped up their glasses. “Have another. They’ll be starting soon.”

  Nicolle appeared from behind the curtain. “Firstly, ladies, I like to present our daytime collection. We’ll start with office wear.”

  Like ringside seats at a prize fight, Lindsey swung her chair around to face the runway. Daisy had obviously settled in, lounging back with legs crossed while she clutched her champagne flute in one hand and popped a second dark chocolate truffle into her mouth with the other.

  Lindsey looked at her disapprovingly. “Too much sugar is bad for your health,” she said.

  All she got back was a withering stare.

  The model was impossibly thin, like a twiggy stick insect. She was dressed in a beige suit, the cut so exquisite it appeared an extension of her body. Her short, streaked, caramel-blond hair was casually stylish, her teeth whiter than white, and her skin had an expensive pearly sheen. Her shoes were so ridiculously high that Lindsey wondered how she kept her balance.

  “Killer heels,” murmured Daisy.

  “Hello fallen arches,” muttered Lindsey.

  She had to admire Twiggy though, for being able to walk with such poise. It seemed effortless, lithe and smooth without taking up much space. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to seek a model’s advice to help perfect her robots’ gaits. They were still a bit jerky. With that thought in mind, she studied the walk. The neck and back were straight, the lower half of the body leaning slightly forward. As she moved with a distinct sway of her hips, she placed one foot in front of the other rather than planting them parallel to each other.

  Lindsey surreptitiously pulled her phone from her coat and began to video the walk. When she noticed Daisy frowning, she poked it back into the pocket.

  “You shouldn’t be taking photos. It’s a private collection,” Daisy whispered, then said louder, “Do you like the suit.”

  What could she say? All her suits paled in comparison. “I don’t think it’ll look that good on me.”

  “Nonsense. Nicole’s chosen all these outfits with you in mind. You can try it on.” Daisy gave the designer a nod. Twiggy disappeared, replaced by another model not quite as thin but equally as flat-chested. This one glided gracefully, with a long sweeping swan-like neck. Her suit was entirely different, a looser fabric cinched tight by a silver chain. It looked spectacular on The Swan. Daisy didn’t bother to ask this time, merely raised her finger.

  For the next hour, the models worked through the business, casual, and evening outfits. Daisy gave the nod for all but four outfits—Lindsey had given up putting in her two-cents’ worth. Then it came to the finale: formal wear. Daisy was a bit more discriminating here, choosing only three long gowns and one tuxedo.

  “What? Not all the formal wear is good enough?” Lindsey breathed in her ear.

  “They’re worth a fortune,” she whispered back.

  “My God, the woman has constraint. Who knew?”

  “One tux is enough for the time being. You’ll bless me when you see the price.”

  Lindsey had no doubt about that. Her bill would be astronomical if she took half the clothes she was going to try on. Nicolle Jane would not be cheap.

  Daisy poured more champagne and handed one across. “Here, finish this. You’ll have to go try them on in a sec.”

  Lindsey eyed the glass dubiously. “I’m not used to drinking.”

  “Then you’ll be very relaxed when you try on the clothes,” came the airy reply.

  “Just so long as I don’t have to walk in those high heels.”

  Chapter Ten

  At the sound of rustling behind the curtain, Daisy finished scrolling through the fashion blogs on her phone and readied for the action. She was peeved she hadn’t been invited into the inner room, but Nicolle only let prospective buyers into that Aladdin’s cave. Designers were very protective of their creations. Without a thought, Daisy reached for a third chocolate but reluctantly closed the lid. Perhaps it was time to watch her weight. Her jeans were getti
ng a bit tight—the super-thin models with their waspy waistlines made her feel like the Incredible Hulk. Though, mind you, she couldn’t imagine jumping their skinny bones.

  When Lindsey appeared in the beige suit with an aqua blue silk shirt underneath and a slim silver chain around her neck, she could only stare. Wow! Eye-poppingly fantastic. Nicolle flashed a smug told-you-so look when Daisy gave her an enthusiastic nod. The show continued, with each outfit decked out with matching accessories and shoes. She noted the heels were only mid-high.

  By the time they came to the formal wear, Daisy had only given five of the forty-odd pieces the thumbs-down. Lindsey was going to have a hard time choosing what to buy. She had remained stoic throughout, giving no indication whether she liked them or not. When she paraded the first outfit, she had looked embarrassed as she shifted from one leg to the other, but after that appeared to be on automatic pilot.

  Every piece of clothing fit her perfectly. Daisy was particularly fond of the leather ensemble with the gorgeous Jimmy Choo boots, just right for when they’d hit the bars. And Lindsey in jeans looked a different woman—far more accessible. Then came the first full-length evening dress: a breathtaking fitted gown, with satin sandals peeping out from beneath the hem and elaborate diamond-drop earrings sparkling in the light. Timeless elegance. Lindsey looked so stunning Daisy had to blink away a few tears. She wondered why there were no sleeveless or strapless numbers, but that thought vanished in a cloud of pheromones when Lindsey appeared for the finale in a charcoal-grey tux.

  God damn, the woman was a bona fide hottie. She’d have to fight them off with a stick. At that scenario, she felt a twinge of possessiveness but quickly dismissed it as a hormonal glitch.

  After Lindsey departed with Nicolle to discuss which items to purchase, Daisy tipped her glass in a silent toast.

  Goodbye dowdy Ms Jamieson-Ford.

  Welcome sophisticated Lindsey.

  Hello success!

  To her surprise, she didn’t have long to wait. Lindsey appeared in her old suit and carried four parcels. Disappointment surged through Daisy. She’d only bought four outfits—she had hoped Lindsey would’ve considered at least eight or ten. She prayed one at least was the fantastic tux.