“Hello? Is anybody home?” I heard a singsong voice call from the entryway. “Delaine? It’s me, Polly, personal shopper extraordinaire, here to whisk you away to what I consider to be paradise.”
I hurried down the staircase, wearing the same shirt I had put on the night before for dinner. And, as embarrassed as I was to meet a stranger for the first time in nothing but my john’s shirt, I really had no other choice.
“Make sure the silver gets polished this week, and tell the cook to change tonight’s menu to pot roast.” Polly scribbled something on a paper attached to a clipboard and then handed it back to the same maid who had given me directions to the kitchen yesterday morning. “Thanks, Beatrice. You’re all doing a wonderful job, as usual.”
She looked up then and saw me. “Oh, hey!” Obviously she was one of those cheery morning-person types. Her hair was platinum blond and bouncy, and she was so smiley and unbelievably gorgeous that she reminded me of a high school cheer captain in an eighties movie. It was almost infectious, and part of me wanted to punch her for making me feel like that.
“Um, hi,” I said awkwardly. “Lanie Talbot.”
“Polly Hunt,” she said with a wide smile. “I’m so ecstatic to finally meet you!”
I stuck my hand out in a friendly gesture, but she rolled her eyes playfully. “Oh, please!” She snorted softly through her pert nose as she waved off my somewhat formal greeting. “We’re going to be shopping all day together. In my world, that’s like having sex.” She giggled and then grabbed me for a quick hug. “This is for you, by the way,” she said, handing me a pink bag.
“Clothes?” I asked, just to be sure.
“Yes, ma’am. Say, what happened to all of your clothes anyway?”
“About that …,” I hedged, not having a clue how to answer. “My moving here to be with Noah was kind of a rushed decision, and I didn’t really have time to pack very much. What little I did bring didn’t seem to be up to par with the styles and trends you guys wear around here, so I got rid of them.”
There. That sounded like fashion-speak, right?
Polly arched a perfectly manicured brow, and I could see the wheels turning in her head. She squinted her eyes at me in doubt. “And you were naked when you did this?”
“Um, no,” I half laughed. “Of course not, silly. The clothes I had on are just dirty. Yeah, they’re dirty.”
“Uh-huh.” She eyed me suspiciously. “Well, why don’t you go ahead and get changed and we’ll get going?”
~$~
Riding in Polly’s little red Beamer scared the shit out of me. Multitasking was a gift, but I wasn’t so sure it was a gift that should’ve been used while driving. She was doing well over the legal speed limit while bopping along to the radio and talking even faster than she drove without taking so much as a breath that I could tell. Every now and then she honked the horn and cursed at a fellow motorist for going too slow or changing lanes at a time that wasn’t convenient for her.
“It’s Chicago. Learn to keep up or get off the road, assholes!” She looked at me and shook her head while rolling her eyes. “People who are obviously scared are dangerous and have no business behind the wheel of a car.”
I agreed, but hyperactive, road-rage types who were strung out on caffeine shouldn’t be allowed behind the wheel either, for that matter.
She whipped into a spot just vacated by another vehicle. And when I say “just vacated,” I mean the other car was barely even out of the spot before she parallel-parked without slowing down, running up on the curb and forcing some of the pedestrians walking on the sidewalk to scramble out of the way.
I managed to wrench my fingertips out of the dashboard, where I was sure there would be lingering imprints, and got out of the car. I would have been perfectly willing to kiss the ground had it not been so grotesque. Public streets and sidewalks were like petri dishes cultivating death cocktails.
Polly popped her sunglasses on, threw her purse strap over her shoulder, and said, “Let’s go, chica.” Her three-inch heels and short dress, which looked like it was made for a little girl instead of a grown woman, would’ve been a big no-no for me, but she pulled it off without a hitch. Seriously, the woman was too cute with a side of come-here-lovah-boy.
We went into the first shop, and the ladies behind the counter recognized her immediately, even calling her by name.
“Friends of yours?” I asked.
“Professionally, not socially,” she said under her breath. “You might say I’m a frequent flyer here. Plus I tip very well.”
“Ladies,” she said, turning back to them and holding up Noah’s gold card, “if you would be so kind as to hook my new friend up with your finest.”
I was rushed into a dressing room to strip, and before I even had all of my clothes off, garments were being slung over the door. I groaned inwardly, because shopping just was not my thing, but I had to admit that I felt sort of like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, being fussed over like that.
Polly stood outside the door praising things she approved of and scoffing at things she didn’t. I thought I was safe in my own little room, closed off from the rest of the world, but Polly wasn’t having that. She pushed open the door and strolled right on in like I didn’t have anything she hadn’t ever seen before. I supposed I didn’t, but still, I might have wanted to retain a wee bit of privacy.
I was beginning to learn quickly that in Noah’s world, apparently my body was a free-for-all. So I gave up caring and let what my mama gave me hang out like I was a centerfold to be envied, though I was far from it.