Cinderella's Big Sky Groom. Christine Rimmer

stylist’s chair and the salon’s owner, Gracie Donahue, whisked a big purple hairdresser’s cape around her neck.

      “I can’t believe I’m doing this. This is all just too much….”

      “It is not,” said Gracie’s daughter, Kim, with whom Lynn had gone to school—and who was now in town on a visit from San Francisco, where she worked in a very exclusive salon. “I’m in on this, too. And I am the best at what I do. You’re going to look fabulous when we’re through. All the cowboys for miles around will fall in love with you.”

      Lynn stared at her own reflection in the mirror. No one to fall in love with there. True, her clean-scrubbed face was slimmer than it used to be. She actually had cheekbones now. But she still looked as ordinary as a loaf of white bread. Also, right at the moment, her brow was furrowed and her mouth all pinched up. “Oh, I don’t like this….” It came out on a whimper.

      Kim laughed. “Wait till we’re finished. First, a deep-pore cleansing. Then the mud mask. Manicure. And pedicure. The hair, of course—and full makeup, once your pores have had a chance to settle down from the cleansing and the mask.”

      That didn’t sound particularly comforting. “My pores have to settle down?”

      “Yes. And they will. We have plenty of time. You’ll walk out of here a new woman.”

      “I’m just fine the way I am.” She wished she sounded more convincing.

      “Of course you are. But there’s always room for improvement.”

      “It’s too much….”

      Kim gave a delicate snort. “You already said that.”

      Lynn caught Danielle’s eye in the mirror. “You know you can’t afford all this.” Danielle was a single mom on a limited budget. “It will be far too expensive.”

      Gracie put her plump hands on Lynn’s shoulders. “Listen.” Lynn stiffened. Gracie’s warm fingers pressed a little more firmly. “I mean it.”

      Sara piped up then. “Miss Taylor, you have to sit still if you want to get your surprise. You have to let them make you beautiful, just like Cinderella. Remember? When her fairy godmother came and got out her magic wand and sang the ‘Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo’ song and Cinderella’s hair got so pretty and her raggedy dress turned into a magic ball gown and the little mouses turned into horses and the big pumpkin turned into—”

      “Honey.” Danielle shook her head.

      Sara put her hand over her mouth. “Oops.”

      Gracie said, “There are some coloring books in the cabinet under the table in the waiting area. Maybe Sara would have some fun with them?”

      “Coloring books?” Sara asked with interest.

      Danielle shot her friend a reassuring smile. “Relax.” Then she took her daughter’s hand. “Let’s go check them out.”

      Danielle led her daughter away and Gracie faced Lynn in the mirror once more. “Now. Are you listening?”

      “Yes, but—”

      “Hush. Are you listening?”

      Lynn gulped and nodded.

      Gracie said, “I’ve lived in Whitehorn all my life.”

      “Well, Gracie, I know that.”

      “And I went to school with you,” Kim added.

      Lynn felt defensive. “What are you getting at?”

      “The truth,” said Gracie. “That’s what you get from your hairdresser, if you’re lucky. A decent cut and a little honesty. We’ve all watched you over the years, so quiet and unassuming and sweet, letting that Jewel and her two spoiled darlings run right over you.”

      Lynn’s defensiveness increased. “Please don’t speak ill of my family.”

      Gracie tightened her grip on Lynn’s shoulders again. “I’m not speaking ill of them. I’m only speaking the truth. I know you love them. And I’m sure they love you. In their own selfish ways. And that’s great. That’s fine. But the truth is, you’ve never allowed yourself to shine, now, have you?”

      “I don’t really see how—”

      “How much weight have you lost in the past six months?” Grace demanded.

      Lynn gulped again. “It really hasn’t been in the past six months. It’s been longer.” Since her father had died two years before, actually. Because she’d been so sad, and not felt much like eating. And then later, as her grief had faded, the calorie-laden junk foods she had once craved no longer held such strong appeal. “It’s just…taken everyone a while to notice, I guess.”

      “Well, however long it’s taken, you are lookin’ good. And after today, you’re going to look even better. And you don’t have to worry about Danielle’s pocketbook, because Kimmy and I are going in on this birthday present, too. Understand?”

      “But—”

      “Understand?”

      Lynn gulped again.

      Gracie and Kim looked at her sternly.

      And then, in the mirror, she watched a smile tremble across her own mouth.

      Why, she thought, I want this. I truly do. I’m ready for this. It’s my twenty-fourth birthday, and Gracie Donahue is right. It’s about time I let myself shine.

      Danielle appeared in the mirror again, on Gracie’s right side. Lynn looked from Kim to Gracie—and to her friend last of all. Danielle winked at her.

      Lynn sucked in a long breath. “Okay. Wave that magic wand.”

      Gracie squeezed her shoulders one more time and then let go.

      “And thank you.”

      The three behind her chair chorused, “You’re welcome,” in unison.

      “And…well, I’m still pretty nervous.”

      “It’s all right,” said Gracie. “Be nervous. But stay put until we’re done with you.”

      It took over an hour just for the facial. Then they started on her hair: a foil wrap first. Then they did her nails, both manicure and pedicure, as promised. Several other customers came in during the process. Lynn knew most of them. They smiled and greeted her, and didn’t seem at all surprised that plain Lynn Taylor had suddenly decided to spend a whole afternoon being primped and pampered.

      Lynn had a nice little nap under her mud mask. And then she sat under the dryer with the coloring goo and bits of foil stuck in her hair and read a magazine from front to back. She went to the back room briefly, to remove her panty hose, then stretched out in the stylist’s chair while Gracie filed and painted her nails, top and bottom. Once her nails were dry, she made another quick trip to the back room, to put her stockings and her shoes on again.

      When she emerged, Gracie led her to the chair once more. Lynn settled in with a contented sigh, wondering why she’d never given herself permission to do this before. Even if the makeover didn’t “take,” she thought with a secret smile, she might do this again just for the sheer relaxing enjoyment of having other women tend to her. It was so soothing, so leisurely, lying there with her eyes closed, hearing their laughter as they talked and joked about their jobs and their men, as they discussed their children and their dreams for them. The gentle, firm touch of skillful hands took all her cares away as they massaged in the mud mask, twisted her hair into the bits of foil—and later, rubbed shampoo into her scalp, then fluttered around her head, snipping away at the freshly highlighted strands.

      Finally Kim turned her so that she couldn’t see the mirror. “Don’t look again until I’m finished.”

      Kim went to work with a blow dryer and a styling brush. When Lynn’s hair was styled to her