Patrice Wilton

CHAMPAGNE FOR TWO

CHAPTER ONE

"Christine, darling, a hairstylist that you know and trust is worth her weight in gold. Won’t you please reconsider?" Emily Perkins, a well respected Palm Beach socialite, had her red manicured claws on Christine’s arm and wouldn’t let go. "I will pay you handsomely to come to my house." Her perfectly outlined bottom lip trembled. "The idea of some new person doing my hair is frightful. I shiver to think of it." She shivered, as if to make a point. "I’ll make it worth your while, I promise."

Christine Bradley shook her head and almost laughed. She’d been accepting small gifts and well wishes from her steady customers all day, but this "grand dame" was behaving as if Christine selling her salon was an act of treason.

"Of course you would," Christine said, "but that is not the point. I can’t do that for you and not for my other regulars. If they heard I was still doing your hair, they’d all be asking me to do theirs, and then when would I have time to get my new business up and running?"

"The Merry Matchmakers?" Mrs. Perkins had a wrinkle free brow, but a sudden tightness indicated she might have frowned. "Don’t be silly. It’s a ridiculous idea, and I’m surprised a woman as bright as you would involve yourself in it. Besides, if you continued to do my hair I wouldn’t tell a soul. Not one soul."

Christine laughed gently. "You’re a darling, but once again, I’m going to have to say no." She walked the clinging woman to the door and held it open for her. "Good-bye, Mrs. Perkins. You will love Amy, I promise. She will take good care of you from now on, and if there are any problems, Amy has my number."

"I hope this crazy dating service fails," Emily Perkins snapped, then clamped a hand over her mouth in horror. "What a terrible thing for me to say. I’m sorry; my behavior has been quite appalling. It’s just that I’m so used to getting my own way." She gave Christine one last desperate glance, then tossed her head as if suddenly remembering who she was and sashayed out the door.

Christine turned the key and took a couple of steadying breaths. All in all it had been quite a day. Emotionally exhausting, filled with highs and lows, and it wasn’t over yet. Behind her she could hear the women who worked for her laughing and chatting happily, and the loud pop of a champagne bottle.

Pushing her melancholy aside, she put on a happy face and returned to the rear of the salon where her former employees were waiting.

"Thank God, you got rid of that nasty woman," Nora, the receptionist said, and handed her a fluted glass of sparkling champagne. "What was her problem anyway?"

"She’s afraid to let anyone else touch her hair. Amy, I told her you’d do it."

"Oh, no. Not me," Amy wailed in false horror. "I’m not good with people like her. They think because they have had money in their family for generations that they are better than everyone else. Give me nouveau rich anytime."

Kelly laughed. "You prefer crass with no class?"

Both Kelly and Amy were in their mid-twenties, and two of the best stylists Christine had ever come across. They were attractive enough to turn any man’s head, and had way too much fun for any one person. Nora was a woman in her forties, nearly the same age as Christine, and divorced like her too. Jamie did the manicures and pedicures, and was a single mom, struggling to make ends meet. Her husband had left her with nothing but debts, and she’d been pretty desperate when Christine hired her. These women were her closest friends.

"Hey, aren’t we forgetting something here." She lifted her untouched glass of champagne and waited.

"Oh, yeah. The toast." Nora raised her glass to all the smiling faces. "We want to wish you luck with your dating service, and free dates all around!" The women laughed, and Nora put up her hand. "No, seriously. We hope your business is hugely successful, but we’re going to miss you around here."

"Thank you. I’m going to miss you more." They all sipped their champagne, and she noticed that she wasn’t the only person in the room looking sad.

A flood of emotions welled inside her, and to keep them at bay she focused her attention on the crystal Waterford glasses they were drinking from, which was their present to her. "This was a lovely, thoughtful present, and I’ll treasure them always." She swallowed a sudden lump in her throat and lifted her head, intent not to cry. This was a celebration and she would not spoil it.

"It’s not going to be the same around here," Jamie said. "We are so used to hearing about all your problems. They make ours look small."

She laughed with the others. Three years ago she had had a messy divorce, and around that time her daughter had quit college to live with some artsy guy with a dead-end job, so yes, she had brought her complaints to work. But she knew all their problems too, as did most of their regular customers. While they washed or cut or colored, many secrets were shared at the Sass and Class, as both clients and stylists talked through their troubles. Now, who would she talk to? She would have no one to confide in.

Christine hadn’t realized until today that when she left this business, which she’d worked at and owned for fifteen years, she would be leaving a part of herself behind. It was no wonder she was a little emotional.

Still, she sipped her champagne and kept a smile firmly in place. After all, she had an exciting new business venture to sink her teeth into. Her mother and her friends had started the Merry Matchmakers, a dating service for seniors, and it had been an ill-conceived idea right from the start. They had lost money month after month, and her mother was in no position to throw good money away. Her father had not left her mother as well off as expected, and she needed to be frugal in order to maintain the life style she was accustomed to. Now, with the down economy, her investments were not doing well and she’d been advised by her bankers to restrict her spending or she’d outlive the little money she had. She refused to come live with Christine, not wanting to burden her, so Christine had pretended that the women would be doing her a favor by selling her the dating service. She’d insisted that she was tired of the hair salon and looked forward to a change.

Bailing her mother out of financial ruin was priority number one, but she really did think the business, if done right, could be a worth-while investment. As quickly as she could, she’d renamed it Champagne For Two, and it was her intention to make this the premier dating service on the south-east coast—given time.

"So, Christine," Kelly said, "how exactly are you going to get people to sign up? I mean, people with money? People who are filthy rich certainly don’t have any trouble finding dates. And normal people can’t afford expensive fees."

"I know, but I have a plan. I was thinking of a three tiered membership fee. Bronze, silver, and gold. For a thousand dollars anyone single can participate in the fun events I will plan each month. There’ll be nice dinners at different restaurants, single dances, even a cruise."

"All that for a thousand dollars?" Kelly asked. "Heck, you can sign me up."

"I would love to." Christine smiled. "Seriously. But the costs for the events aren’t included in the thousand dollars, and they won’t be cheap."

"No," Amy said, "but it would be fun and if there was a chance to meet a really cool guy, I’m all for it. So what’s the silver?"

"Five thousand guarantees a thorough background check, and arranged meetings between interested parties." Christine checked their expressions to see if they found this a reasonable fee. No one looked shocked, so she figured she was on target.

"And the gold?" Nora asked.

"The gold means I will turn heaven and earth to find that special someone for my client."

"Uh, that might be a touch difficult." Jamie hitched her butt onto a corner of the table. "You can’t possibly guarantee anyone that."

"I aim to try." Christine crossed her arms and spoke with her usual confidence, determination, stubbornness--call it what you will. "I can’t charge people a fortune and not guarantee results. This is a business. How would people like to buy a Ferrari and have the dealer say, ‘Well, we think it can break a hundred in ten seconds flat. But I wouldn’t guarantee it.’"

The women looked at each other with amused expressions.

"Okay, you may or may not have a point, but we get what you’re trying to do," Jamie said. "This is going to be an interesting challenge."

Christine couldn’t agree more. She knew it was going to take time to build a proper database for her clients, but Palm Beach was a great place to start. There really wasn’t any established service like hers in the area, and she expected to do well.

Her desire to succeed was two-fold. One, she didn’t like to fail, and two, she wanted to reimburse her mother and friends for their losses. If there was a deeper reason, like being an incurable romantic, she would take that with her to the grave. Just because she didn’t want to risk her heart, was no reason for others to feel the same. Besides, watching two people fall in love gave her an emotional thrill, without any of the downside.

Perhaps she could find a suitable man for her mother. She was one of those women who needed a good man taking care of her. Many women did. Thank God she was not one of them.

A loud banging at the door made her jump, and she nearly lost her glass of champagne. Who in the world could it be? No outsiders had been invited to this little farewell party. She’d asked her daughter, but Nicole had said she was working tonight.

The banging grew louder.

"Who the hell is that?" Nora asked, stepping into the main salon. The others followed out of curiosity.

"I have no idea. We’re not expecting anyone, are we?" Christine said.

Nora strode over and unlocked the door, opening it wide. When Christine saw a man standing there in a dirty, sweat-stained wife-beater, she raised her eyebrows and looked at the other women. "Girls? You didn’t do something stupid like hire me a stripper, did you?"

No one answered. They were too busy gawking.

In all fairness, the man was worthy of gawking and then some. He had a broad chest and shoulders, toned muscles that looked like they came from hard work, not excruciating hours at a gym, and a face with regular features that was easy on the eyes.

Figuring it was a joke, Christine played along. "Hey, good looking. Are you for me?" She grinned cheekily at the fellow and stepped closer.