The waiter enters the cave with three Cosmos on a tray, a stunning spiral of lime zest decorating each glass. "This could really be quite delicious," says Todd.
E
STIME INTERNATIONAL'S
grooming team arrives at West 75th at 5:00
P.M.
on Saturday. Henry and Todd are upstairs in the little den off the library, drinking mint juleps in honor of the Kentucky Derby, an hour away on NBC. They are fully aware that a hairdresser and a manicurist are making house calls below, because both, arriving separately, rang Henry's doorbell in search of client Thalia Archer. Todd is itching to consult; at the very least shouldn't they call downstairs and see if Thalia needs second and third opinions on any aspect of her toilette? Finally Henry puts the Derby preliminaries on pause and calls downstairs. Thalia's voice has the stilted quality of someone whose hair is being styled against her will. She says, "I do have company. But if Todd wanted to shoot downstairs for a quick hello—and you, too—I can definitely take a break. Bring some alcohol."
Todd is signaling,
Let me.
Henry hands him the phone. "Is everything okay?" he asks, then listens, pacing. "Okay. I know you can't talk in front of her. I'm on my way." He clicks the phone shut and says, "Let's go. Beauty nine-one-one."
"We called
her
"
"Need I say more: bangs." His fingers chop along his forehead. "Doesn't she have bangs already?"
"She has layers. Someone is asking for bangs, right to the eyebrow. C'mon. You'll play the lawyer card if necessary—creative control or client approval or whatever." He leads the way, into the foyer and toward the front door, but Henry says, "No, this way. We don't have to go outside. There's a stairway from the kitchen."
Halfway down the passage, Todd stops and touches the wall behind the handrail. "Excuse me, but I'm noting there are chunks of granite and, if I'm not mistaken, dirt. Are we right up against the foundation? Don't these rocks sweat in the summer?"
"Truthfully, I don't know what they do in the summer. It's only been since Thalia moved in that I've used this stairway."
"Better lighting, please," says Todd, pointing at the single bare bulb. "I don't want you to fall and break your neck." He gives the shoulders in front of him a brief, protective squeeze. Henry stands still, takes it in, manages only, "Thank you. I'll be careful."
They find Thalia draped in a plastic cape on a kitchen chair in the middle of the room, hair wet and unattended. A sinewy woman in a tank top frowns by the kitchen sink, arms crossed, a comb in one hand and a scissors in the other. An Asian woman in a lab coat is studiously filing the nails of Thalia's left hand.
"Hello, my people," Thalia says. "Here we have Dawn and...?"
"Yumi," says the manicurist.
Todd says hello, thanks for coming, and what is the thinking behind bangs?
Dawn says, "My
thinking?
That she needs them." She strides over to her client and pushes wisps of hair off Thalia's forehead, none too gently. "Would you agree that it's splotchy?"
Henry asks, "Where?"
Todd, with a mild shrug, asks, "Who's doing makeup?"
"I am," says Thalia. "And don't look so worried. They gave in on that one."
"Do you have concealer?" he asks.
"I have a stick. And powder. I can fix it. Nobody's ever noticed I had a splotchy forehead." She smiles mysteriously, a signal Henry is beginning to recognize as a leap into improv. "Especially Trevor, in that ivory tower of his. I could show up as a blond tonight, or with a mouth full of braces, and he wouldn't notice."
"So you've shared with Dawn what tonight is about?" Henry asks carefully.
Thalia says, "I haven't had a chance." She turns to Yumi. "Trevor is my law school professor. I've worked for him as a TA all semester. He's taking me out to dinner tonight as a thank-you. And it's now or never. I graduate in two weeks. He's taking a job in Alaska. If he doesn't declare his love tonight, it's over." She sighs. "And here's another reason to nix the bangs: He's thirty years older. I don't want to remind him of the age difference."
"And don't his twin daughters, the teenagers, have bangs?" Todd asks.
"He's married?" Dawn asks.
"Of course not," says Thalia. "He's a widower."
"More to the point," says Henry, "her last haircut was lovely. I wouldn't monkey with it too much."
"And Trevor knows me this way—plain, simple, recognizable."
Dawn picks up a lock of Thalia's beautifully highlighted hair, with a smirk that says,
Plain and simple, my ass.
She plugs in an extension cord, then a hair dryer, and brings forth an enormous cylindrical brush from her suitcase of wares. Yumi retreats to the kitchen table. The men watch as Dawn dries and styles in silence, her expression a frozen neutral.
"Nice and shiny," says Henry.
"It's the vodka," says Thalia. "Back when Dawn was speaking to me, she told me her secret: vodka in the shampoo." Without consulting a mirror, she runs her fingers through the front locks, reversing their direction.
"I like that you gave her more loft," says Todd. "Which is just right for a night on the town. Just that extra little oomph she needed."
"Not to mention under very primitive conditions," Henry adds.
"A trainee could have done it," Dawn snarls. "A beauty school dropout. What I do is cut. I don't even style. I certainly don't blow-dry."
"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 assume 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, fishing in the wire waste-basket under her makeshift 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
Todd gets to work and a minute later is holding two hangers in each hand, all displaying red dresses, all of them shiny 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 assignations? 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 makeshift 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, reassessing 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.
T
ODD 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 astonishing. 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 fashions."
"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 fashion disclaimers were a matinee performance. She is wearing one of the original red dresses, diaphanous over something tight and silky and strapless. Her hair shines, 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 shell over culottes? And look what walks out! Thalia Archer, goddess."
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-fashioned, 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-shirt bearing his company logo in iron-on magenta iridescence, black jeans, black boots—all of which attest to a parallel fashion 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.
"All of what?"
Her answer is an eloquent twirl of her wrist:
you, me, this counterfeit date.
"Doesn't she look beautiful?" Todd tries.
Leif's complexion and scalp go red.
"Let the record show an affirmative response," says Thalia.
"Thalia tells us you're going to Per Se," says Henry. "Have you been there before?"
"No. Someone else picked it."
"Someone with good taste and
pull
" Todd says.
"I'm starved," says Thalia. "All I had all day was tea and Oreos."
"I wish I'd known that," says Henry.
"He'd have roasted you a leg of lamb," says Todd.
"Shall we go?" asks Thalia.
"It might rain later," says Henry.
"The driver has a big umbrella with my logo on it," says Leif, pointing to the mummy on his chest.
"All set," says Thalia. She kisses Henry, then Todd, who whispers, "Reapply the gloss after every course."
"And definitely do the wine pairings," says Henry.
Leif says, "They told me to do that. And Thalia's getting the Kobe beef because that's what they told the papers in advance."
"Interesting what they think the public wants to know," says Henry.
"Bye, my people," Thalia says. "You go do something fun, too."
"We'll close up here," says Henry. "Do you have your key?" Thalia snaps open her silver-spangled evening purse and says, "Check."
Leif nods stiffly to each. Clearly for their benefit, Thalia follows him to the door with unbent knees and robotic arms—Mrs. Frankenstein heading out for a night on the town.
Street Sense wins the Derby, which they replay and watch again. Todd wonders aloud if the winning horse knows he crossed the finish line first and feels some equine version of jubilation.
"He must—all the hoopla, the hugging and kissing. The blanket of roses. I wasn't raised around horses, but they're supposed to have emotions. Did you read
Seabiscuit?
"
Todd says, "Loved the movie. And what do I remember most? When he rejected the goat who was supposed to be his best buddy and tossed him out of the barn. I wanted Seabiscuit to have a companion, even if the rest of the world wanted him to settle down with a nice mare."
On the screen the delirious owner is hugging Street Sense's trainer. It seems as good a juncture as any for Henry to slip his arm around Todd's shoulder. "It happened in real life, too," says Henry, "by which I mean in the book, just with a little less drama. Biscuit picks the goat up with his teeth and drops him over the door to his stall."
Todd covers the hand resting on his shoulder. "Look at us: two shy boys at the movies."
Henry points the remote and mutes the color commentary. The cable box reads 8:40. "They're well into it," he says. "I wonder how it's going."
"He seemed startled," Todd says. "What do you think that was about?"
"The way she looked, like a million bucks. He'd only seen her in rags."
"He turned purple!"
"I think it's safe to say he's never been out with a girl like Thalia."
"Or any girl."
"Debunked that," says Henry. "According to Thalia, he had a bona fide affair with the acting teacher who set this whole thing in motion."
"A woman?"
"Definitely. Sally, hyphenated name. She confessed when Thalia asked the question, 'Am I being hired as a beard?'"
"It's not that I picked up a vibe. It was just that he looked a little panicked when he saw the two of us."
"It wasn't us. It was the shock of seeing Thalia looking magnificent. And there we were, taking notes, figuratively, witness to the fact that he can't get a girl on his own. Most humiliating, I'm sure."
Todd answers in a lifeless monotone, "Hullo, sir. Hullo, other sir. Thalia, you look hot."
"I know: awful. Imagine being his mother or father. It must be a little heartbreaking to have a child turn out so unappealing."
"You are a dear man," Todd says. "If I had any disposable income to speak of, I'd march you over to Per Se myself."
Henry shuts off the television. "There are other options," he says.
"Of course! I wasn't hinting. Pizza's fine. Or that noodle joint on Columbus."
"What I meant," says Henry, "was other options. And
then
dinner."
"
Finally
" says Todd.
Each has read in
Time Out New York
that there's a place serving great burgers in the West Seventies, but neither remembers which block. Todd narrates as they walk west, checking posted menus outside the neighborhood's seedier taverns, "If they were shooting a romantic comedy about us, this is where we'd see a montage of us engaging in fun-filled couple things: Rollerblading in the park, waiting in line for a foreign film, walking a herd of dogs and getting tangled up in the leashes."
"Signifying...?"
"The awkward phase is over. No more
Will they or won't they?
Everything's good. We'll thank our matchmaker in the credits."
"'With grateful thanks to Denise Krouch, who matched us up on the basis of
this one's gay and so's this one.
'"
"Let's call her," says Todd. "C'mon. Let's see if she wants to meet us for a burger. Maybe she knows the name of the joint we're looking for."
"On the
west
side of Manhattan? Not a chance." He stops them at the next curb to avoid a delivery man on a bike who is ignoring the red light. Henry says, "Now that she knows I found Thalia—she's calling it 'getting custody,' by the way—it would be one long third degree. She'd be relentless, and I'm a bad liar. If she asked where Thalia was tonight, I'd have to make up a story."
"Couldn't you just say, 'The subject of Thalia is off-limits'? That way you're not lying. You're just setting ground rules."
"Maybe another time, but not tonight," says Henry. "
Especially
not tonight."
"Have I mentioned that she ends every message with 'Say hi to Henry for me'? And don't you find it sweet that in her own De-nisean way she's happy for us?"
"She's happy for
herself.
She wants full credit and a standing ovation, which I find a little patronizing, actually."
Todd has stopped in the middle of the block and is no longer smiling.
Henry does not have to ask,
Is something wrong?
"If anyone else had introduced us I'd be sending orchids," he says.
"Good," says Todd. "I feel better. Thank you. This is where I'd kiss you if you were a guy who tolerated public displays of affection."
Henry smiles. "That's the other guy, the one playing me in the movie."
"A tour de force," says Todd. "I think he's going to win a Golden Globe."
They move on, agreeing that a peek at the new
Zagat
might help. En route to a magazine kiosk, Henry says quietly, "I quit therapy last week after twenty-five years. And a day later I kicked Denise off my property. Some of us think that's progress."
"Believe me, I get it. It's hard to thank that little goat for anything. But you're holding all the cards: Not only are you and Thalia reunited, but you're a team. She's crazy about you, you know."
"We are a team, aren't we?" Henry says.
"So let's review: Spent entire life with her mother? Not speaking and estranged. Missed several decades with allegedly unfit father? Bosom buddies and trusted allies. You win! I think your ex-therapist would agree that Denise is no threat to you or to—"
Their cell phones ring almost simultaneously. Both men check the caller ID, and both take a sharp breath. It is Krouch, D calling for Todd, and Krouch, T calling for Henry.