Sweet Liar Part 3

But Samantha didnat answer his question as she looked at her eggs. aWhy donat you tell him the truth?a It took Mike a moment to remember who theyad been talking about. aYou mean tell Barrett that I want to write about him?a aI can fully understand his aversion to writers.a She said the word writers with disgust in her voice.

aI take it that writing is another mark against me,a he said with a sigh. aWant to tell me why?a He didnat even expect her to answer. aAll right, keep your secrets. Ever hear of Al Capone? Of course you have. The reason youave heard of him is not because he was the biggest gangster or even the most violent. Youave heard of him because Capone loved publicity. He used to take corps of pressmen along with him when he went fis.h.i.+ng. The man thought everything he did was worth recording. Actually, in his day in New York, Barrett was bigger than Capone, but Barrett hated publicity of any kind. Wouldnat even allow a photo to be taken of him, and never gave an interview.a aSo now you think that if you wrote and told him the truth, saying that one maybe-granddaughter and one nosy writer wanted to meet him, head say no?a aIam sure of it. Thatas why I have to be something close and personal to you. Sure a husband is out? Okay, then how about a fianc?a aHow about my half brother?a aIf Barrett has seen Maxie, head know that was a lie.a She tried to think of something else for him to pretend to be, for she didnat want the implied intimacy between them even for one afternoon.

He knew what she was thinking as clearly as though he could read her mind. aWhat is it you have against me anyway?a She narrowed her eyes at him. aDo you really want to marry me? Settle down, have a couple of kids?a aI hadnat planned on getting married this week,a he answered.

aThen youare not in love with me? Deeply, really in love?a aWe havenat had a conversation yet that wasnat full of hostility.a aAhaThen what you really want is to go to bed with me and thatas all.a She leaned forward. aLet me tell you something, Mr. Taggert. Just as youare an old-fas.h.i.+oned man, Iam an old-fas.h.i.+oned woman. Iam not a modern woman who debates whether or not to go to bed with a man on the first date. Iam the kind of woman who debates whether or not to kiss a man on the third date. I do not want to go to bed with you and, heaven help me, I do not, under any circ.u.mstances, want to get married again. One major mistake per life is my motto, and Iave made mine and Iave learned from it. Do I make myself clear?a Leaning back in the booth, Mike stared at her, trying his best to understand where all her hostility was coming from. Nothing Dave had told him had prepared him for this animosity.

aI thought so. Now, do we have things clear between us? I want to fulfill the requirements of my fatheras will and get out of this city, and Iall do whatas necessary but no more. Understand me?a aA little better than I did,a he said softly.

aGood. Now maybe we can proceed. You may write Barrett and tell him Iall come with my fianc. After the meeting Iall move out of your house and you will give me a doc.u.ment saying that I have fulfilled the requirements. Agreed?a aAlmost. I have a stipulation. Between the time we send the letter and when we receive a reply, probably a few days at most, I donat want you out of my sight.a aWhat?a aI donat want you staying alone in your fatheras apartment. Until your fatheras will is carried out I am responsible for you.a aOf all thea"Oh, I see, you said before that you thought I was near suicide. I can a.s.sure you, Mr. Taggert, that Ia"a aAnd I can a.s.sure you, Miss Elliot, that I have made up my mind about this. We can do whatever you like, go shopping, visit the Statue of Liberty, whatever, but we do it together.a aI will nota"a He started to leave the table. aThis conversation is over. Letas go back to the house and Iall help you pack.a aPack?a aSo you can leave.a aButaa She knew what he meant. Either she did what he wanted in the way he wanted it done, or she left his house. He held all the cards. If she wanted the money her father had left her, she had to do what he said. aAll right,a she said in disgust as she stood up. aBut keep your hands off of me.a He was looking at her oddly. aThat husband of yours must have been one big b.a.s.t.a.r.d.a aNot particularly so. Show me a woman whoas been married to the same man for more than two years and Iall show you a woman with a very high pain tolerance.a aI guess your pain level wasnat too high or youad still be married to him.a She looked away. aThatas where youare wrong,a she said softly. aMy capacity for pain seems to be limitless.a

6.

T he mirror on the wall shuddered when Samantha slammed the apartment door behind her. Just who did he think he was? she thought. What right did he have to give her ultimatums? The instant she thought the words, she knew the answer. Her father had given him the right to decide whether she met the requirements of the will or not, but her father hadnat given him the right to control every minute of her day, she thought defiantly.

She opened her closet doors. Statue of Liberty, she thought with disgust, knowing how much she genuinely hated anything that could remotely be called a tourist attraction. In the four years she had lived in Santa Fe she had never visited anything that was frequented by busloads of people who were ruled by timetables prepared by someone else.

As she looked at the contents of her wardrobe, she smiled. Perhaps he could force her to do what he wanted her to do, but he couldnat make her enjoy it. Perhaps if she were disagreeable enough, head leave her alone. Rummaging inside two packing boxes, she found what she was looking for.

Mike wrote the letter to Barrett, called an express mail service, and sent it off, letting out his pent-up breath when the letter was gone. Now it was up to Barrett as to what he did, but Mike hoped head allow Samantha and him to visit. It was Mikeas guess that the old man would very much want to see his granddaughtera"at least Mike hoped that was the case. But who could tell what a ninety-one-year-old man was going to do?

As Mike watched the express mail truck drive away, his thoughts turned to Samantha and he smiled. For all her bristles, all her hostility, he was looking forward to spending the day with her. It wasnat just that she was the s.e.xiest female head ever seen or that he wanted to take her to bed, there was something about her that intrigued him. He wondered what she was like when she wasnat angry. Now and then he caught a glimpse of her, a glimpse of what he had come to think of as the real Samantha. Head seen the real Samantha the first day head met her, and last night when shead drunk the gla.s.s of wine and had made jokes, head had a look inside her. These rare sights made him sure there was another Samantha under the one she presented to the world, or he thought with a smile, maybe she presented the bristle-coated side only to him.

Now, he wondered, what did one do with a young lady who looked as though she wore a hat and gloves to church on Sundays? He couldnat very well take her to his favorite New York haunts, some of which consisted of bars, nor did he think shead appreciate visiting Daphne and her friends.

Picking up the telephone, he called his sister Jeanne, for she would know what to do to entertain someone like Samantha, he thought as he dialed his parentsa telephone number in Colorado. His mother answered the phone.

aMom, is Jeanne there?a aNo, Michael, dear, she isnat.a Patricia Taggert knew the sound of each of her childrenas voices, and she knew when they needed something. aCan I help you?a Feeling a little odd asking his mother such a personal question, Mike prayed she wouldnat start asking awkward questions, but he did need a womanas advice. aI met a womana"Now, wait a minute, before you start thinking orange blossomsa"a aI didnat mention orange blossoms, Michael, dear, you did,a Pat said sweetly.

Mike cleared his throat. aWell, anyway, I met this woman. Actually, sheas the daughter of a friend of mine anda"a aIs this the young woman whoas living in your house with you?a Mike grimaced. His mother was in Chandler, Colorado, over two thousand miles away, yet she knew what he was doing in New York. aI donat even want to know how you know whoas rented the apartment,a he said.

Pat laughed. aTammy cleans for your cousin Raine, too. Remember?a Mike rolled his eyes. The big mouth of one of his Montgomery cousins. He should have known. aMom, you want to answer my question or find out every tiny detail of my life secondhand from other people?a aI would love to hear directly from you.a aSheas never been to New York, and the place terrifies her. Where can I take her to make her like the city?a Patas mind raced. Why was the young woman living in New York if she hated the place? To be near her son? And if she and Mike were in love, what was she like?

aI mean, Mom, should I take her to the top of the Empire State Building? Rockefeller Center? What about the Statue of Liberty? How about Ellis Island?a Pat drew in her breath, for she knew that Mike hated tourist attractions. Unfortunately, her son was much more at home in a smoke-filled bar than in a group of gawking sightseers, but he must be serious if he was willing to brave the Statue of Liberty for her. aIs she a normal girl?a aNo,a Mike said. aShe has three arms, practices several bizarre religions, and talks to her black cat. What do you mean, is she a normal girl?a aYou know exactly what I mean,a Pat snapped. aIs she like that stripper who visits you, or is she one of those muscle girls from your gym? Knowing you, Mike, she could be a down-on-her-luck prost.i.tute.a Mike smiled at the phone. aAnd what would you say if I said she was one of those and that I was going to marry her?a Pat didnat hesitate. aIad ask what you wanted for a wedding gift.a Mike laughed. aOkay, sheas normal. Very normal, if by that you mean prim and proper. Sam could marry a preacher.a Pat put her hand over the phone, rolled her eyes skyward, and whispered, aThank you.a aTake her shopping,a Pat said with enthusiasm. aShow her the stores on Fifth. Take her to Saks. Your cousin Vicky is a buyer at Saks.a aOh?a Mike said without much interest. He had too many relatives to remember half of them. aAnd which one is she?a aYou know very well that sheas J.T. and Ariaas youngest. If your young lady still doesnat like New York after sheas seen Saks, take her walking on Madison. Start at Sixty-first, walk up to the Eighties, and look in all the store windows.a Mike was laughing. aEspecially in the jewelry store windows? Maybe buy her a diamond or two? The kind of diamonds in engagement rings? Tell me, Mom, how many women have you mentally married me off to in my short life?a aAt least six,a Pat said, laughing in return.

Mikeas voice changed to serious. aMom, you and Dad are happily married, arenat you?a At the tone of his voice, Pat thought her heart skipped a beat, for something was troubling her child. aOf course we are, darling.a aSamanthaa"thatas her namea"said that any woman who has been married for longer than two years to the same man has a very high pain tolerance. You donat think thatas true, do you?a After a futile attempt at controlling her laughter, Pat released it. Even when Mike kept saying, aMom! Mom!a she kept laughing. Even when she knew he put the phone down in disgust, she still couldnat stop laughing.

Mike put down the telephone, more than a little annoyed at his mother, actually, annoyed at all women. If they thought marriage to a man was so horrible, why were they all trying to get married? All of them except Samantha, that is, he thought. Or maybe her reluctance was merely an act.

Smiling, he went to the bedroom to dress. For Samantha he would put on a suit and tie. Maybe head even wear that Italian number his sister had picked out for him.

Forty-five minutes later, he emerged from the bedroom, showered, shaved, and dressed, then checked the hall mirror and straightened his tie. Not bad, he thought. Not bad at all.

aSam!a he yelled up the stairs. aYou ready to go?a He had to wait a few minutes before she came down the stairs, but when he saw her, he smiled at her and offered her his arm.

When Samantha saw the way Mike was dressed, she wanted to die. Just plain sit down and die. Shead had dreams of embarra.s.sing him, of making him say that he wasnat going to be seen with her dressed as she wasa"thatas what her ex-husband would have said if she had appeared wearing her workout clothesa"so shead dragged an ancient pink sweat suit, worn bare in places, discolored in others, from the closet. Across the chest of the sweat s.h.i.+rt was emblazoned aAt first he put me on a pedestal and now he wants me to dust it.a As Samantha stood at the head of the stairs, looking down at Mike in his beautiful dark suit, she knew she had never seen a better-looking man in her life. At least this time when her father had chosen a man for her, he had picked one who looked good. She hadnat been as fortunate with Richard.

After one look at Mikeas eyes, she knew he wasnat going to be embarra.s.sed by her. In fact, she wasnat sure he was aware that what she had on was inappropriate. Smiling at her as though he was looking forward to going out with her, he held up his arm for her to take.

aI canata"a Samantha began. aI have toa"a aSamantha, itas eleven oaclock. If you take any longer to get dressed, the stores will be closed.a aStores,a she said, horror in her voice as she tried to pull away from him, but he held her firmly.

aI cannot go to a store looking like this,a she said.

Mike looked her up and down and read her s.h.i.+rt. aYou look fine to me. I like pink on you. Besides, we can buy you new clothes if you want.a Pulling at her arm didnat gain her release. aI have to change.a Giving her a look of frustration, one of those count-to-ten looks, he said with exaggerated patience, aIf you didnat like what you had on, why did you wear it?a Samantha wouldnat answer that, since she couldnat very well tell him that it had been her intention to make him refuse to be seen with her, especially not since he didnat seem to notice what she had on.

Feeling like a child who was being punished, her chin down, she followed him out of the house and into the streets. So far, her total experience of New York had been Lexington Avenue. Now she walked with Mike toward Madison Avenue, then to Fifth, and the closer they got to Fifth Avenue, the more Samantha became aware of her atrocious clothing. In magazines one saw models wearing gorgeous designer clothing, and a person in the real world of Middle America sometimes wondered who in the world wore those things. Most Americans wear bright-colored sportswear, looking as though they spend their lives climbing mountains or running marathons. But in New York the men and womena"especially the womena"looked to Samantha as though they had stepped from designer showrooms.

As she walked with Mike, her hand held firmly in his arm, Samantha was painfully aware of the women around her. They were so fantastically well groomed. Their hair looked as though they shampooed it with fairy nectar, their nails were perfectly trimmed and polished, as though they never used their hands, and their clothes were nothing less than divine.

Of course one drawback to New York women was their sn.o.bbery. Many of the women gave Samantha looks of pity when they saw the way she was dressed, and some of them even smiled at her in a way that made Samantha move closer to Mike, as though for protection. Turning, he looked down at her, patted her hand, and smiled when she moved closer to him, seeming to have no idea what was going on between the woman who clung to him and the women on the street. Samantha thought it must be wonderful to be able to be oblivious.

By the time they reached Fifth Avenue, Samantha wanted to crawl in a hole. Mike seemed to have a place he wanted to go so they hurried past store after store with beautiful clothing in the windows. They pa.s.sed Tiffanyas, Gucci, Christian Dior, Mark Cross. After a while Samantha stopped looking at the clothes because the more she saw, the worse she felt.

At Fiftieth Street, they came to a large store with dark blue awnings, and to her horrified amazement, Mike started toward the revolving doors. Samantha pulled away from him. In the first place, revolving doors puzzled her; she couldnat seem to get the hang of when she was to enter and when she was to exit. Once, she had gone around one of the things three times before she was able to get out. In the second place, she saw that this was Saks Fifth Avenue. She could not, absolutely could not, enter a world-renowned store dressed in a worn-out, faded pink sweat suit.

Mike went round the revolving doors, saw Samantha wasnat with him, then went round again, this time stretching out his hand and grabbing her arm. After wedging her into the pie-shaped door area with him, he pulled her out of the door into the store at the appropriate time.

When they entered the store, Samantha stood still for a moment, dazzled by what she saw before her. To anyone who had spent four years in a town like Santa Fe, Saks was heaven come to earth. Here were consumer goods that did not have howling coyotes on them. Here was clothing that was not made from Pendleton blankets. She saw saleswomen who wore something other than Mexican cotton and acres of turquoise and silver jewelry. She saw people who moved faster than sun-warmed lizards, and people were wearing shoes that in no way resembled the footwear of cowboys. Best of all, there was not one single solitary piece of leather fringe in sight.

aLike it?a Mike asked, watching her face, which showed her awe as she looked at the sparkling Judith Leiber purses in the case before her.

Samantha could only look at him, much too stunned to speak.

aWant to do a little shopping?a He was on the verge of laughing at her as he asked the rhetorical question. aI think the escalator is back there.a As Samantha came out of her trance, she became aware of the women in the store looking her over, knowing full well that she failed on every count. Maybe she could go back to the house, she thought, change her clothes, and come back here. With the money she had saved, she could afford a new dress. But the truth was, Samantha knew she didnat own a garment that was up to the fas.h.i.+on standards of the women she saw in this beautiful store.

aI canat go shopping wearing this,a she whispered to Mike.

From the look on his face she could see that he didnat understand what she was saying. Sometimes it seemed that the language difference between men and women was as great as that between Chinese and English. How could she explain to a man that saleswomen would have nothing to do with a woman who looked as though she needed their goods?

aYou look great,a Mike said, then began pus.h.i.+ng Samantha toward the back of the store.

There were tall, beautiful young women offering other customers samples of perfume, but they took one look at Samantha with her pulled-back hair and repulsive old sweat suit and didnat offer her the perfume. One woman after another glanced at Mike, then at Samantha, then back at Mike, with an expression that asked, How could a great-looking guy like you be seen with a frump like her?

As Mike practically pushed her into an elevator, Samantha almost hid behind him, trying to keep anyone from seeing her.

Pulling Samantha along, Mike got out on the ninth floor, then led her through the childrenas department.

aWhere are you dragging me?a she asked, trying to pull out of his grasp, but it was like trying to break free of a tow truck.

aIam taking you to see a friend of mine. Not really a friend, more like a cousin.a Pulling her through offices, he didnat stop until he came to one gla.s.sed enclosure. Behind a desk sat a young woman who was not beautiful exactly, but very striking. Her hair looked as though it were incapable of being out of place, and her clothes had obviously been made for her body alone. The sight of her made Samantha look about for a hiding place where she wouldnat be seen by this elegant young woman.

As soon as the woman saw Mike, she smiled and stood up, but Mike did not smile. Drawing himself into a military at-attention stance, he clicked his heels together, took her fingertips in his hand, and kissed them. aYour royal highness,a he said in a voice of an official courtier.

Looking about the office at her co-workers nervously, the woman said, aMike, stop that.a Grinning, Mike grabbed her into his arms, bent with her like something out of a Fred Astaire movie, and kissed her neck enthusiastically. aBetter?a he asked as he lifted her to stand straight again.

aMuch,a she said, blus.h.i.+ng, trying to act annoyed but obviously charmed by him as she moved out of his grasp.

aSo howas the palace and the folks?a Mike asked, smiling as though very pleased with himself.

aEveryone is finea"as youad know if you bothered to visit. Mike, as honored as I am by your visit, I have work to do. What can I do for you?a aHelp us shop.a Pulling Samantha from the hiding place she was trying to make for herself between the door and a filing cabinet, he presented her as though she were something he wanted repaired, like a watch or, actually, more like a squirrel-eatina, rifle-totina hillbilly.

Seeing the way the woman looked from her to Mike in question, considering the proprietary way Mike was holding her arm, Samantha tried to explain. aItas not like it looks. Heas my guardian.a As soon as she said it, she realized how dumb the words sounded, how she was making things worse by speaking.

aRather like Tinkerbell,a Mike said, still grinning.

aMore like Captain Hook,a Samantha retaliated quickly.

At that the young woman laughed and walked toward Samantha with her hand extended. aIt sounds as though you understand him. My name is Victoria Montgomery and Mike and I are cousins of sorts.a Looking Samantha up and down with a professional eye, she appraised her face, her figure, and the dreadful clothes. aWhat can I do for you?a Giving the young woman a crooked smile, doing what she could to redeem herself, Samantha said, aMake me look like one of those women on the street.a With a smile of complete understanding, Vicky said, aI think we can manage something.a She turned to Mike. aWhy donat you meet us in about three hours?a aNot on your life,a Mike answered. aIam staying through all of it. If sheas left on her own, she dresses like Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm. Can you fix her up?a He made Samantha sound like a car whose transmission had fallen out and it was questionable whether the car was repairable or not. After one sympathetic look at Samanthaas face, now the same color as her deplorable sweatsuit, Vicky turned to her cousin. aMike, youave been using your muscles too much and your brains not enough. Mind your manners!a Her voice carried authority as well as much affection for her handsome cousin.

After a smile filled with grat.i.tude directed toward Vicky, Samantha turned toward the elevators and started walking, feeling better already.

aHow much?a Vicky whispered to Mike when Samantha was a few feet away.

aWhatever,a Mike answered, shrugging.

Vicky lifted one perfectly plucked eyebrow at him. aAre we talking Christian Dior or Liz Claiborne?a aI guess that means expensive or cheap. I want her to have both. Everything. But donat let her see the prices on the clothes and send the bill to me.a He paused a moment in thought. aAnd I want shoes and whatever else women wear.a aWhat about hair?a Vicky was studying her cousin. She knew very well that he could afford what he wanted to buy, but she also knew that he didnat spend his money frivolously.

Mike was looking at Vicky with eyes that nearly begged for her help. He was so tired of seeing Samantha with her beautiful hair sc.r.a.ped back into a tight, ugly bun. aYou know,a he said wistfully, aI think her hair just may be curly when itas down.a aYou donat know for sure?a Vicky asked archly, doing her best to figure out what this woman meant to him.

aNot yet,a Mike said with confidence and a wink at his pretty cousin. aNot yet.a Samantha knew she had never spent such a heavenly day in her life as the one she spent at Saks with Vicky and Mike. When Samantha was a child she had often gone on shopping expeditions with her mother, and they had been an enormous amount of fun, but after her mother had died, she hadnat seemed to have much time or even the inclination to adorn herself. After she was married and had moved to Santa Fe, she had had neither money nor time nor the desire to shop.

But even when shead been with her mother, shead not had as good a time as she had on this day. Vickyas taste in clothing and corresponding accessories was irreproachable, and her diplomacy in guiding Samantha toward the correct garments was something that had to be experienced to be believed. At first Samantha haphazardly and hesitantly chose a few outfits from the racks and tried them on, but when she looked in the triple mirrors, she found that she looked as she always did: boring. Then Vicky very sweetly, casually, tactfully, asked if she might be allowed to choose a few things for Samantha, and of course Samantha agreed. What woman hadnat yearned for an elegant, regal-looking woman like Victoria to help her dress?

Within twenty minutes after Vicky handed Samantha the first garment, she began to see a completely different version of herself. Stepping back in the large, luxurious dressing room on the third floor, she looked at herself in the perfect-fitting suit by St. John and saw a person she did not recognize: elegant but maybe a little s.e.xy, comfortable but refined, fas.h.i.+onable but cla.s.sic.

aMay I?a Vicky asked as she removed the rubber band from Samanthaas hair and let her blonde hair float about her shoulders.

Looking at herself in the mirror, Samantha remembered that she had started pulling her hair back to get it out of her way when she was working on computers, but shead also found that she was taken more seriously when she didnat have a couple of feet of blonde hair falling in her face.

Stepping back in the dressing room, Vicky studied Samantha, looking at her as an artist would look at a painting, first one way then the other. aCould we cut your hair? Perhaps style it and shape it so it falls properly? Would you mind?a Mind? Samantha thought. It was as though someone was asking her if shead mind going to heaven. aI think that would be all right,a she said, trying her best not to sound as though, inside, she were jumping up and down and yelling, Yippee!

Vicky smiled graciously, pretending she couldnat see how Samantha was feeling, but her happiness was infectious. Vicky seldom got to work with a customer who was so purely delighted with things as ordinary as new clothes and a haircut. aNow you must show your suit to Mike.a Involuntarily, Samantha frowned because she didnat want to show Mike anything. In fact, shead just as soon forget that he existed. Vicky had explained that a Saks credit card would be issued in Samanthaas name and that Vicky could arrange for the cost of the clothes to be prorated over months. Samantha would receive the clothes at Vickyas cost, thereby making her able to afford an entire new wardrobe. If Samantha was paying for them, why did she have to show her clothes to this man?

Seeing Samanthaas reluctance to model for Mike, Vicky didnat understand it, because when shead first seen them together, Samantha had been clinging to Mike as though he were a life perserver. aI think he will want to see you in your new clothing,a Vicky urged, feeling a little guilty at the elaborate lie shead concocted to keep Samantha from knowing Mike was actually paying for the clothes.

Hesitantly, and with more than a little reluctance, Samantha left the dressing room, walking onto the sales floor where Mike was ensconced on a pretty pink sofa with a cup of tea someone had brought him and a newspaper. He was so comfortable that he looked as though he owned the store, looking as at home here among these women and the very feminine clothes as he had looked the first day shead seen him, when he was wearing cutoffs and a torn s.h.i.+rt.

Remembering too vividly the indifference she had received from her father and her husband when it came to her clothes, Samantha didnat want to model for him. Her husband had wanted her covered up and looking neat and tidy, but past that he hadnat cared what she wore. Her father didnat notice the difference between his daughter in heels and hose and his daughter in jeans and a gardening s.h.i.+rt.

But Mike didnat ignore Samantha and was far from indifferent to her. When he first saw her walking toward him, he put down his paper, slowly got out of his chair, and went to her. When he reached her, he took her hand, turned her about, and studied her, looking at the fit, cut, and color of the suit. aYes,a he said after considerable thought. aIt shows her off.a Samantha tried her best to control her enormous grin at his praise. It wasnat the words so much as the way he paid her the compliment, as though she were beautiful and he was judging whether the clothes were worthy of her. As she turned to follow Vicky back to the dressing room, Mike caught her shoulder.

To her consternation, he leaned forward, put his face in her neck and kissed her ear. aYou ever cover up your hair again and youall answer to me.a Samantha moved away from him, but not before goose b.u.mps of pleasure raised on her body.

Within an hour she became used to modeling for Mike. In direct opposition to her first opinion that Mike was oblivious, she found that he was very aware of womenas clothes and she soon learned to trust him. aNo, the jacketas too long for you. Covers up your rear end,a he said in utter seriousness.

aThat is not a reason to dislike a garment,a Samantha snapped, but Mike just grunted. Samantha decided to buy the jacket and wear it often, but in the dressing room, when Vicky asked if she would take it, Samantha hesitated. aNo,a she said at last.

Samantha soon began saying yes to what Mike liked and no to what he didnat like.

To bring Samantha garments from floors other than the designer apparel on the third floor, Vicky enlisted the services of two saleswomen, telling them what she wanted and where they were to get it. The women brought armloads of lacy underwear, nightgowns, and even shoes to Samantha, and they brought purses, gloves, hosiery, and costume jewelry from the first floor.

It was when Samantha was trying on a lovely Carolyn Roehme dress, that she realized Mike was also approving or vetoing the underwear that was being presented to her. aThat coloras wrong for her,a she heard him say. aNo, not black. I want the white nightgown,a she heard him say twice. Samantha felt her face grow red as she remembered what head said to her on that first day: that he wouldnat be able to control himself if she wore something white and lacy.

aDo you have any blue nightgowns?a Samantha asked Vicky.

Vicky smiled and moments later a sedate, blue nightgown appeared. aMike doesnat like it,a Vicky said.

aGood,a Samantha answered. aIall take two of them.a Samantha bought many, many items. By four oaclock she had lost count of all the suits, shoes, dresses, and casual clothes she had said yes to, only a few of which were to be charged to her account. aThis is going to cost too much,a she said to Vicky. aThis must be hundreds of dollars.a Vicky had her back to Samantha so Samantha couldnat see Vickyas raised eyebrows. Hundreds? Vicky thought and realized that Mike had been right. Head said he doubted if Samantha could even conceive of a single dress costing seven thousand dollars, so all price tags had to be removed before she tried on the clothes. Removing the tags had been a great bother to Vicky and her a.s.sistants, but for what Mike was spending, they could afford the bother. And, as Samantha had an unconscious eye for quality, she had spent many thousands. If she were presented with two pairs of shoes, one costing six hundred dollars and the other pair a mere two hundred and fifty, Samantha unerringly chose the more expensive shoes.

Straightening, Vicky looked at Samantha. aThey are ready for you now in the hair salon.a Nodding, Samantha wondered what Mike would have to say about her hair, hoping he wasnat one of those men who said, aTake off a quarter of an inch and no more.a When it came to feminine hair, her father and her husband had thought that women should have one style: They should be able to sit on their hair.

Preparing herself for the coming disagreement, Samantha thought of arguing that she should be able to choose the way she wanted to wear her hair, but she knew before trying that it would be a useless attempt. Mike walked into the salon, not seeming to be bothered by the sheer femininity of the placea"in fact, he even winked at a woman who had her hair covered with folded pieces of aluminum foil. Immediately, he began telling the hairdresser how Samanthaas hair was to be cut. aI want her curls to show,a Mike said. aAnd I donat want and style that makes her use hair spray. I canat stand the stuff, scratches a manas face.a aI will wear my hair any way I want to,a Samantha said. Both the hairdresser and Mike turned to her with blank looks on their faces, as though they were surprised and totally unconcerned with her opinion. As they turned back to each other, Samantha looked in the mirror and sighed. That Mike was saying what she herself wanted to say made no difference; it was the principle that mattered.

While her nails were being manicured, the hairdresser cut inches off her hair, cutting it into layers of different lengths. With each inch that fell away, Samantha felt lighter and younger. Even before the dryer was held to her hair, she could see the curls forming about her face. When it was done, she shook her head and laughed.

Mike was beside her, looking in the mirror at her. aI didnat think you could be prettier, but you are,a he said softly, making Samantha blush.

Taking her by the hand, he led her to another chair and there she got a makeup lesson and a small shopping bag full of cosmetics and skin care products. She would have been shocked to learn that the cosmetics alone were over three hundred dollars.

It was late afternoon when Samantha, dressed in a red Christian LaCroix suit, her hair short and curling about her head, her face perfectly made up, left Saks on Mikeas muscled arm. They carried no bags since Vicky had said shead have everything sent to Mikeas house. This time, when they went through the cosmetics area on the first floor, many of the tall, thin young women rushed forward to offer Samantha a sample of their perfume, but she waved them all away. Mike stopped at the Lanc'me counter, and in spite of Samanthaas insincere protests, he chose Trsor for her, paying for it with cash.

Holding the little bag of perfume tightly in her hands, as though it were very precious, Samantha looked up at Mike. aThank you,a she whispered. aThank you for today.a He smiled at her, a smile of pride and pleasure. aWant something to eat?a aYes,a she said, aIam starving.a Tucking her arm under his, he led her from the store. As they walked out together, Samantha noticed that Mike was as proud to be seen with her when she was wearing her old sweat suit as he was when she was in designer clothes. It really didnat matter to him what she was wearing.

7.

A s they walked back to the town house, Samantha kept touching her hair, feeling the way it curled about her face.

aLike it?a Mike asked, and she nodded.

She wasnat aware of it, but she was walking straighter, taking longer strides than she had when theyad first walked down the streets. Feeling some regret that Samantha was no longer clinging to him, Mike was pleased to see her smiling and happy, and he was delighted to see her looking as good as she did.

When they neared the town house, Samantha was the first one to see the women sitting on the stoop. There were four of them, and it was easy to conclude that they were not what her mother would have referred to as anicea girls. Their clothes were too tight, too short, too brightly colored, their faces painted with too much contrast between lips and eyes and cheeks. Three of them were smoking; two of them were sitting on the iron railing, and they made no attempt to pull their tiny skirts down over the parts of their bodies that they were exposing.

aI think you have guests.a Samantha realized she was frowning, for shead been looking forward to ordering a salad plate from a deli and sitting in the coolness of the garden with it, but now shead have to retreat to her fatheras room.

Seeing her frown, Mike pulled her hand into his arm. aYouall be my hostess.a aI canataa she began because she didnat want to become more involved with this man than she already was.