Page 56 of On Thin Ice

Or maybe Sinclair had fooled me. Maybe I was being stupid…still serving my remaining sentence: just over nine years and ten months. Despite realizing my feelings for Sinclair were growing minute by minute, I had no assurance he felt the same way—and that was due to our pasts.

Fortunately, the makeup artist showed up to pull me out of my thoughts. Edna knocked on my door and, when I answered, she stood next to a woman my height but at least ten years older. She was absolutely gorgeous, as if her made-up face and wavy blonde hair were her billboard. “Hi, I’m Emma,” she said, her bright white teeth nearly glittering like a model for a toothpaste commercial.

Edna said, “I’ll leave you girls to it.” After she offered us drinks which we both declined, Edna waved the other woman the rest of the way in. “Have fun tonight, Lise.”

“Thanks.”

Emma rolled in a case the size of luggage as Edna walked down the hall, ready to begin her weekend. “Where do we want to do this?”

I grimaced. Having Marco in the great room when we tried on dresses had made sense—but for what she’d be doing, we’d need a different space. “This probably won’t work here.”

“Well, you have a bathroom. There’s a mirror and a counter, and you could sit on the toilet seat. Would you be comfortable there?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Want my vote?” When I nodded, she said, “Of course, you wouldn’t be able to relax. Let’s go somewhere where there’s a table and lots of natural light. I have a mirror in my case we can use, so we don’t have to have one in whatever room you choose.”

I thought of the kitchen and dining room. They would be okay…but then I remembered the first place Sinclair had kissed me—and, somehow, it seemed perfect. “I know just the spot.”

“First, why don’t you show me what you’ll be wearing? That way I can make sure whatever I do with your face and hair works with it.”

I agreed, stepping into my closet and pulling out the dress. After I removed the garment bag, I held the gown up to my body and stepped into the room, hoping she’d get a good idea of how I would look in it.

“Wow. You’re gonna be a knockout.”

After thanking her and trying not to blush, I led her down the hallway toward the stairs she’d already ascended, feeling bad that she’d brought the case up for nothing. “Can I help you carry that down?”

“Believe it or not, this baby isn’t too heavy and I work out on the regular. It’s taken me years to perfect it, but I’ve got it down to an art. I have clients all over the U.S.—and it costs less to transport and takes way less time when I can carry my bag on the plane instead of checking it.”

As we descended the stairs, I asked, “You’re not based in Denver?”

She laughed. “Nope. Not that there’s anything wrong with Denver, but I live in Manhattan.”

“Oh.” I was pretty sure that was part of New York City, but I didn’t want her to know just how unworldly and naïve I was. Once we were in the main hallway heading west, I said, “So you flew all the way here just to do my makeup?”

“Sure did. Mr. Whittier is friends with one of my clients—and he paid plenty to entice me to rearrange my schedule.”

Although that didn’t completely surprise me, it also comforted me. Obviously having me look the part of a well-put-together sophisticate was worth a lot of money to Sinclair. “Is there a certain time you have to leave?”

“My flight is booked for seven—so you’ll have me as long as you need me. But it shouldn’t take long. Your skin is flawless. I don’t have much work to do.”

Even when I blushed? “Thanks.”

“Yeah—I feel like I’m gonna owe Mr. Whittier a refund.”

Near the end of the hallway, we entered the library. Just as she’d requested, we had access to several tables and chairs—and plenty of natural lighting. As the sun lowered itself in the sky, we’d have direct sunlight shining through the west windows as well.

It wasn’t long before she’d taken her case apart. It was actually several smaller cases that snapped together, and she set the two top ones on the table. There were tons of products and makeup tucked inside them, along with an assortment of brushes. “Is there a trashcan around here?”

“Maybe.” While I looked around, she unhooked the other cases from the whole, setting the other two a bit farther away on the table while leaving the biggest one on wheels on the floor. Meanwhile, I found a waste basket tucked just under the small desk up against the wall. Little did I know, she’d be using it a lot to throw away disposable sponges, Q-tips, and tissues. Before she got started, she plugged a curling iron into a socket on the west wall, resting it near the edge of the table, and then she had me sit. Before she did anything else, she covered my clothes with a black plastic cape.

As she began applying a foundation to my face, I asked, “You said you fly all over the United States?”

“I go wherever I’m needed,” she said, dabbing at my cheek with a sponge.

“So you have clients who need makeup for special events?”

“Yep. That’s a great way to put it. I do makeup for weddings, proms, television appearances, fashion shows, you name it. It’s pretty fun because I get to go all over the place and I make great money. If I’m in a new place, I might stay overnight and check it out, but that doesn’t happen as much now as it used to. Another perk of the job is I get to meet people I never would have met before. And the more I do it, the more well known I become—so I get to charge more money as time goes by.”

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