The Family Man Part 16

"La-dee-dah," Todd mumbles.

"Sometimes, Dawn, a client just needs a shampoo and a blow-dry between cuts," Thalia tells her. "It's not a character test."

"Where do you work?" Todd asks. "I'd be curious to know."

Dawn maintains her haughty silence as she packs up her tools. Last to be reclaimed is Thalia's plastic cape, which the hairdresser de-Velcros, pulls off, and folds aggressively. "Good luck to all of you," Dawn grants with the last snap of her metal travel case. The manicurist resumes her work as the front door slams. With her head bowed over the application of a base coat, Yumi finally speaks. "She always be like that: diva."

What to wear? Henry and Todd missed the delivery earlier in the day of what Thalia is calling costumes, chosen by a personal shopper who'd been told only dress size, height, coloring, event, destination, and exaggerated celebrity status.

The portable rack dominates the small living room, and its garment bags look undisturbed. "Hate them all," Thalia tells her advisers.

"Let's not be hasty," says Todd.

Henry takes a seat on the rattan love seat. "Are they returnable?" he asks.

"I a.s.sume so, since the note said to keep the tags on whatever I don't want."

Todd begins his evaluation, inspecting labels, rubbing fabric, frowning at hems, beading, fiber content, and seam allowances. Eventually, he segregates a half-dozen candidates at one end of the rack.

"May I see the note from the store?" Henry asks.

"Not from the store," Thalia says, fis.h.i.+ng in the wire waste-basket under her makes.h.i.+ft desk. She hands Henry a letter on Estime letterhead. Attached is a business card he knows: Anne-Marie Albano, media coaching, strategic planning, and crisis communications. The note says only, "I think I got a sense of your look. Hope something here appeals. Please don't remove the tags of anything you'll be returning. Have fun! P.S. Leif red."

Todd gets to work and a minute later is holding two hangers in each hand, all displaying red dresses, all of them s.h.i.+ny and short.

"Those are reasonable," says Henry. "Aren't they?"

"Not my look at all."

Henry and Todd exchange glances, which then travel to Thalia, dressed in dark green cargo pants and a long-sleeved jersey that looks like thermal underwear.

"Uh-uh," she says. "No you don't. I know that look. 'Poor Thalia. Poor Cinderella. Let's dress her up and send her to the ball.'"

Todd says, "Sorry, but you're wrong. We both understand that you are more than capable of gussying yourself up and making a dramatic appearance tonight. I just think that you should try a few on before rejecting them all." He holds up one tag. "Four thousand dollars. Sometimes that can turn into a very nice look."

"And if I may," Henry adds, "these clothes may have been negotiated in return for product placement. Estime probably approached a few designers and promised you'd be photographed in their goods."

"No one told me," says Thalia. "Certainly not"-and she takes back the letter-"Anne-Marie Albano. I see this, a new wardrobe, as purely voluntary. I'm not wearing anything I don't like or feel good in. Besides, it's a date with Leif Dumont. He's never seen me in anything but jeans or a Williebelle."

Henry asks, "What does Ms. Albano mean when she says in the note, 'I think I got a sense of your look'? Does she mean from a headshot?"

"Oh," says Thalia. "Actually, I met her. She came over and went through my closet."

"Like one of those consultants who organize your apartment and tell you what to keep and what to throw out?" Todd asks. "I always thought I'd be excellent at that."

"No. It was more specific: What did I own that said rising star and love interest?"

"Not an unreasonable criterion," says Henry. He points to the rack of runners-up. "Maybe that black one. It's theirs, but at the same time it's not outlandish."

Todd is still holding the four red dresses up for inspection. Thalia chooses one red candidate and the black dress. "I suppose you want to see me in them," she grumbles.

When the bedroom door closes behind her, Henry says, "I've never seen her nervous. And certainly never moody."

"It's a huge undertaking," says Todd. "Embarking on something that could turn your life upside down. I think we're witnessing a little revolt."

"On top of which-" Henry begins, then hesitates. "There is an unforeseen complication."

Todd says, "Let me venture a guess: She has a boyfriend, a real one, and she's worried that she'll lose him if she goes through with this."

"Not quite. She met a guy a week ago, which she's characterized as love at first sight."

"Who is he?"

"A deejay. His day job is with a moving company. He moved her here."

Todd raises his eyebrows, a silent social probe.

"We don't discuss those things. But I'm guessing no; they haven't even had a proper date."

"Is she going to sneak off and meet this guy-"

"Philip."

"Meet Philip for secret a.s.signations? Is that why you didn't want her to tell me about the faux engagement? Because she already told one potential loose cannon?"

"She actually had him sign a makes.h.i.+ft nondisclosure form. He knows she's off the market for six months, and he should disregard whatever he sees in the tabloids."

"What are you two whispering about?" Thalia calls.

Todd says, "Come out and we'll tell you."

She glides into view, in knee socks, pelvis forward, mocking a model's gait. Below a petulant runway stare is the red dress, its neckline plunging, exposing a utilitarian beige bra.

"Not quite," says Todd.

"Next," says Henry, wincing.

"Can't. This is it. The black one didn't fit. I couldn't even zip it."

Todd is on his feet, rea.s.sessing the candidates, measuring a fabric's stretch and give. "Did they even take your measurements?" he asks.

Thalia sends Henry a wry look, exactly what's needed by one who's been feeling unhelpful and dispensable. It says, He's your boyfriend. I'll dress in crimson. I'm doing this for you.

19. We Won't Get in the Way.

TODD SAYS THIS IS CRAZY. Cra-zy! Thalia needs to be better prepared, better equipped, less forgiving toward her pre-Leif wardrobe. Isn't that what the up-front lump sum was earmarked for? Of course he wants to help, but in a less nerve-racking manner, please. Yes, he has his talents, but a needle and thread are not among them. Red dress number two would have been great with a few tucks in the waist and without that inane ruffle posing as a sleeve.

"What would you suggest?" Thalia asks, bent over her knees, applying near-invisible pearlescence to her toenails.

"Shoes! It's insane to be shopping an hour before your date is due!"

"Now I have them," Thalia says calmly. "And I think these will go with pretty much everything."

"They're silver," says Todd. "They are not going to go with everything."

"Needle and thread aside," Henry tells him, "I think you are cut out for beauty nine-one-one."

"Poor Henry," Thalia says. "Is any of this interesting?"

"He's seeing me at my worst," says Todd, "so now I have that to worry about."

"Doubtful," says Thalia. "He's looking all googly-eyed." She screws the cap on the bottle and hands it to Todd. "Okay. We're almost there. Mind if I kick you out now?"

Henry says, "Of course not. Hope we weren't underfoot. All I'll say is have a wonderful time. Or at least a wonderful meal. Definitely order the tasting menu. It's supposed to be astonis.h.i.+ng. Call me tomorrow?"

"Why do we have to leave?" Todd asks. "We won't get in the way, but we'll be right there if she needs anything-"

"Such as?" asks Henry.

"A quick press?" says Todd. "That last two inches of zipper?"

"We don't want to be underfoot," Henry tries again.

"Yes, we do! This is business, and we're her people."

Thalia says, "All true, but a girl needs to dart between her bathroom and bedroom in her underwear. How's this: You'll come back at seven forty-five, as long as there's no second-guessing the fas.h.i.+ons."

"Deal," says Todd.

"And no tweaking Leif's outfit, either."

"Note how she underestimates me," Todd says.

They return promptly at 7:44 to hear music blaring from the living room speakers and Thalia singing along in the bathroom.

"We're here," Henry calls.

"Man on the floor," Todd adds.

They try again when the CD pauses between songs. Thalia calls back, "Okay. I'm coming out, so don't get emotional, okay? And Todd? Really; I need you to be very Zen about this."

"I make no promises," he calls back.

It is abundantly clear when she comes into view that her grooming and fas.h.i.+on disclaimers were a matinee performance. She is wearing one of the original red dresses, diaphanous over something tight and silky and strapless. Her hair s.h.i.+nes, Henry thinks, as if it were polyurethaned, yet free and soft. She points to her eyes, outlined, lids glittery, eyelashes attenuated. "Too whorish?" she asks.

"Compared to what?" Todd asks. "A gym teacher? An Orthodox rebbetzin? Don't be ridiculous."

The new shoes are silver straps of spaghetti, and her earrings are waterfalls of diamonds. Both men gasp. "Is the lipstick too dark?" she asks.

"It's perfect," says Henry. "A perfect match. Is that what you were going for?"

"I am stunned," Todd says. "I bought the act. I believed with my whole heart that you'd come out of that bathroom with your hair in a ponytail and what? What would be horrible? A sequined sh.e.l.l over culottes? And look what walks out! Thalia Archer, G.o.ddess."

Thalia fingers the dangling diamonds. "They're real. On loan, of course. I don't even want to know what they cost."

Henry says, "I think he meant the whole picture. You look beautiful."

"What about a wrap?" asks Todd.

"This one, for good luck," she says, and leads them into the living room where a Williebelle sweater, bejeweled and white, is draped on the back of her ancient desk chair. "One little stain on the cuff, not noticeable."

"Let me see that-" Todd begins, just as the doorbell rings.

"I'll get it," says Henry.

It is not Leif on the threshold, but a uniformed driver. "Car for Miss Archer," he announces.

"Is Mr. Dumont in the car?" Henry asks.

The driver says, "He's making a phone call."

"Please tell him Miss Archer is waiting to receive him." Henry closes the door.

"We really don't have to go through those motions yet," says Thalia.

"Call me old-fas.h.i.+oned, but there are basic good manners, and one doesn't honk the horn from the curb."

"So to speak," says Thalia.

"Your old man was brought up right," Todd tells Thalia. "And all the mothers of his dates loved him for it."

"Let's not stand here like a firing squad," says Thalia.

The doorbell rings again. Thalia answers, and to Henry's chagrin he hears a flat, joyless, "Wow. You look hot."

"Can you come in for a minute?" she asks.

Leif steps into the room. He is wearing a tuxedo jacket over a black T-s.h.i.+rt bearing his company logo in iron-on magenta iridescence, black jeans, black boots-all of which attest to a parallel fas.h.i.+on conference at the other end. The two-day growth of stubble appears carefully cultivated and his earlobes look infected. Thalia says, "Of course you know Henry. And this is his friend Todd."

Leif says "Hullo" twice and nothing more.

"Feeling okay about all of this?" Thalia asks him.