We got there at seven-fifteen. I looked in and saw Gabrielle at a rear table, looking forlorn and nursing a half-empty coke. She was in a long dress which was not too bad but she, had tried to hse makeup and did not know how. Her lipstick was smeared, crooked, and the wrong color, and she had done awful things with rouge and powder. Underneath she was scared green.
I walked in. “Hello, Gabby.”
She tried to smile. — “Oh-hello, Maureen.”
“Ready to go? We’re from the committee.”
“Uh-I don’t know. I don’t feel well. I’d better go home.”
“Nonsense! Come on-we’ll be late.” We got on each side and hustled her out to Cliff’s open-air special. —
“Where is the party?” Gabrielle asked nervously.
“Don’t be nosy. It’s a surprise.” Which it was.
Cliff pulled up at Madame O’Toole’s before she could ask more questions. Gabrielle looked puzzled but her will to resist was gone. Inside I said to Madame O’Toole, “You have seventeen minutes.”
Madame looked her over like a pile of wet clay. “Two hours is what I need.”
“Twenty minutes,” I conceded. “Can you do it?” Over the phone I had told her that she had to create Cleopatra herself, starting from zip. —
She pursed her lips and looked the kid over again. “We’ll see. Come along, child.”
Gabrielle looked dazed. “But Maureen — ”
“Hush,” I said firmly. “Do exactly what — Madame tells you.”
Madame led her away. While we waited Cliff called the Deke house and the senior dorm and stirred out five more men and two couples. It was thirty minutes before they reappeared-and I nearly fainted. —
Madame was wasted here-She belonged at the court of Louis Quinze.
And so did Gabrielle. —
At first I thought she was wearing no makeup. Then I — saw that it had been put on so skillfully that you thought it had grown there. Her eyes were eight times as big as they had been and looked like pools of secret sorrow-f you know, a woman who has lived Her hair was still brushed -straight back but Madame had done it over. What had been a bun was now a chignon — “bun” wasn’t the word. Her cheekbones were higher, too. And Madame had done. something to the dress-it clung more and seemed more low-cut. Riding high on her shoulder was the corsage and her skin blended into the petals.
Instead of the beads she had been wearing there was a single strand of pearls -resting where pearls -love to rest. They must have been Madame’s very own. They looked real. — —
Cliff gasped so I poked him to remind him not to touch. Gabrielle smiled timidly. “Do I look all right?”
I said, “Sister, Conover would shoot Powers for your contract. Madame, you’re wonderful! Let’s go; kids. We’re late.”
You can’t talk when Cliff is driving, which was good. We got there at twenty past eight; our block was jammed and our house stood -out in colored lights. Junior was on guard; he ducked inside. —
Cliff took our coats I gave Gabrielle a shove and said, “Go on in.”
As she appeared in the living room the Downbeat boys bit it and they all sang:
“Happy birthday, dear Gabby!
“Happy birthday to you!”
And then I was almost sorry, for the poor baby covered her face and sobbed. —
And so did I. Everybody began laughing and talking and shouting and the Downbeat Combo went into dance music, not good but solid, and I knew the party would do. MotheE and I smuggled Gabby upstairs and I fixed my face and Mother shook Gabby and told her to stop crying. Gabby stopped and Mother did a perfect job fixing what damage had been done. I didn’t know Mother owned mascara but I am always finding Out new things about Mother.
So we went back down. Cliff showed up with a strange man and said, “Mademoiselle Lamont, permettez-moi de vous presenter M’sieur Jean Allard,” which was more French than I knew he had. —
Jean Allard was an exchange student that one of the boys had brought along. He was slender and dark and he fastened himself to Gabby-his English was spotty and here was a woman that spoke his language…that and Madame O’Toole’s handiwork. Be had competition; most of the stags seemed to want to get close tO the new-model Gabby. —