"Hi, Fran." Sam hugged Francine as she walked into his house. "Where's Will?"
"He's still at work." Francine returned his hug then slipped out of her coat. She handed the expensive but plain garment to - what should she call the professionally bland woman standing behind her friend? Servant? Maid? Butler? "You may be his richest client, Sam, but you're not his only one. He called and told me to meet him here."
"Oh." Sam's eyebrows climbed up his forehead. Francine thought it supremely unfair a man in his mid fifties still had a full head of dark, thick hair. Her husband, ten years Sam's junior, was balding and almost totally gray.
"Wait, Miss . . ." Sam made a vague gesture toward the woman who took Francine's coat. "I'm sorry, I don't know your name."
"Miss is fine, Mr. North." The woman paused on her way out of the room. "How can I help?"
Francine stifled a grin. Sam liked to know the people who worked for him and Miss was a direct challenge. He'd ferret out her name by the end of the night.
"Will you please tell Cleo, um, Mrs. North, that Francine Windstone is here."
"Yes, sir." Miss turned on a professional heal and carried Francine's coat to the cloakroom. Francine didn't know why Sam insisted on calling the closet in the foyer a cloakroom.
"Is she new?"
"She's part of the staff I hired for tonight," said Sam, confirming her suspicion.
"Let me guess, it's a small start-up who makes a point of hiring underprivileged people."
"You know me too well. But don't think poor people can't be capable and professional. Being poor does not mean-."
"-being stupid," said Francine, finishing his sentence. "Don't forget, twenty years ago me and William were poor. You rescued us, too."
"I did not rescue you. I saw Will's talent before anyone else, and took advantage of it. You'd have made your fortune without me, I have no doubt."
This argument was old and comfortable. Francine couldn't help the smile tugging at her lips. This time, however, it tugged with a hint of sadness. She wanted to carry on with the familiar script but something forced her to talk about an underlying insecurity that grew over the past few years. "I only wish I had more to offer you and William. I'm just the stay at home mom."
Sam's mouth fell open. "Is that what you think?" He started to smile, anticipating a punch line. He must have read the truth in her face because his eyebrows slammed together over his angular nose and his mouth drew into a tight line. Sam opened his mouth but a shrill voice interrupted him.
"Oh. My. God. What are you wearing?" Cleo's light soprano climbed into a painful falsetto.
In spite of Francine's desire to voice her insecurity, she was glad for the interruption. This was supposed to be a party, it wasn't the time to unload her emotions on her best friends.
"It's the same thing I wore last time." Francine looked down at her conservative skirt suit. "I admit it's not flattering and more suited to a boardroom, but it's what William likes me to wear."
"If that's true, the man is blind. Or stupid. You have the body of a woman ten years younger, but your outfit makes you look twenty years older. Come with me."
"Why?"
"We're going to put you in something more suitable. And flattering." Cleo held out her hand waiting for Francine to take it and be led away.
"I appreciate the gesture, but there's no time. You have guests here and I'm sure more will be arriving."
"I don't have guests here, but you're right, they'll be arriving. In an hour." Cleo grinned her wide toothy smile that made her look like a pixy queen. "I knew you'd come dressed in something horrible so I tricked you into coming an hour early. We have plenty of time to put you in something appropriate."
"That's not a good idea. William likes me dressed like this."
"Fuck Will." Cleo, tired of waiting, grabbed Francine's hand and tugged her toward the stairs.
"You might as well go," said Sam. "You know how much she works out. She's strong enough to carry you if she wants."
Francine knew Cleo exercised like a fiend to keep her model's figure, but it wasn't her physical strength that bore her up the stairs. Cleo's personality carried people away without anyone knowing quite how they ended up doing what Cleo wanted them to do. Francine let Cleo drag her up the stars and down the long hall. She wondered how many rooms this hotel sized home had, but Cleo claimed she didn't know. She probably didn't.
"Guest room?" Francine asked, when they walked into a well furnished but generic room. She didn't see Cleo using a room like this for personal space. "For tonight it's a beauty salon. I'm giving you a make-over. First off, get out of that ugly, ugly suit."
"This isn't necessary." Francine eyed the daunting array of makeup laid out on a vanity.
"Nonsense." Cleo reached for the large button on Francine's jacket but Francine pushed her hands away. "I want to ask you a question." Cleo put her arms on Francine's shoulders and stared deep into her eyes. "When was the last time you got laid?"
Francine barked out a nervous laugh and looked away. "That's rather personal."
"I know, but I'm your friend and it's painfully obvious your marriage isn't working. I'm guessing it's been years."
Francine looked away, unable to meet Cleo's eye. "Not since I got pregnant with Tilly." Francine felt Cleo's shock and turned away. "At first it was fine, I was so tired with Tilly and Matt I didn't miss it and it sort of became a habit. Then when I tried to start our sex life again, William didn't want any."
"The man is an idiot. No, I take that back. You're an idiot. No man past puberty wouldn't want you." Cleo started on the button again and this time Francine let her. "Tonight we'll do something about that. One way or another I'll prove how beautiful you are." Cleo peeled off the jacket and threw it on the floor on the far side of the room. "There's the bathroom. Go wash off your make-up and get your hair wet."
"Cleo, this isn't a good idea. William likes how I look."
"Does he? Think about it. Does he compliment you? Does he look at you with love and desire? Does he even smile at you?"
Francine looked at the floor unable to speak the truth. Instead she went into the bathroom and followed Cleo's instructions. When she came out of the bathroom Cleo laid out a red dress on the bed. It looked slinky and way too small.
"Good. Now we can get-." Cleo turned and gaped at Francine.
"What?" Every insecurity Francine had boiled to the surface. Did she look so bad with no make-up and wet hair? "I knew this was a mistake." She turned to go hide in the bathroom but Cleo stopped her before she took a step.
