Leftovers: A Novel (19 page)

Larger than most people’s bedrooms, there were racks upon racks of dresses, blouses, skirts, suits, slacks and coats all organized according to color and season. There were two separate walls of built-in shelves for hats, handbags and shoes.

Brownie continued as Vivian followed her, awestruck. “Few people have been in here.”

“I’m honored,” Vivian whispered.

Brownie walked her down to the far end of the dressing room. To the left was an ornate vanity with a large beveled mirror. To the right was a floor to ceiling mirror mounted to the wall and seated in front of it was a professional stylist’s make-up chair.

Brownie turned and looked at Vivian. “You’ve had some hard times.”

“Yes, but Tupperware has changed my life.”

“Vivian, let’s change it just a little more.” She sat her down in the chair. “You and I have a lot in common. Before my dreams came true I was a struggling single mother with an eighth grade education.” She spun the chair so Vivian could see herself in the mirror. “You could go far in this company. But you must remember that when representing Tupperware, you are first and foremost a lady.” She ran her fingers through her un-styled hair. “You’re a pretty girl. We just need to bump things up a notch.”

A hairstylist, make-up artist and wardrobe assistant all seemed to magically appear as if from out of thin air.

Brownie looked at Vivian through the mirror. “I think you should go blonde.”

Vivian looked at her doubtfully. “With my brown eyes?”

“And we need to find the right make-up for your complexion.”

The professionals descended upon Vivian before she even had a chance to object.

•  •  •

After washing, coloring and cutting Vivian’s hair they carefully wrapped it up into large rollers. While her hair was drying, they spun her around so she couldn’t watch and they did a complete overhaul of her make-up routine.

When finished, they brushed out her hair, turned her back around and she honestly didn’t recognize herself. Instantly tears started to flow.

“No. Stop it!” Brownie laughed. “Your make-up will run and your eyes will get red and scrappy!”

Vivian leaned forward, looking at herself in the mirror. “Can that be me?”

“It is you my dear.”

“My hair looks a little bit like Grace Kelly’s.”

“Very much like Grace Kelly’s! You look stylish and pulled together. Beautiful but accessible and relatable.”

“You think?”

“I know.”

Vivian studied herself in the mirror. “I . . . I . . . I look pretty.”

Brownie helped her out of the chair as the stylists left her dressing room. “When a Tupperware lady goes out she wears a pretty dress. The one you have on is OK, but you must shine. Let’s get you out of this and try some of my things on.”

As Vivian unzipped her dress and stepped out of it Brownie immediately was drawn to her waist.

“What is this?” She reached out to touch the bizarre looking scar that encircled her torso.

Vivian recoiled. “Oh, please don’t.”

“Does it hurt?”

She laughed sarcastically. “Not physically.”

“What happened?”

Vivian hesitated and then decided to share with Brownie the incident with the Wedgewood. She related the story in such an unemotional, disconnected way that it moved Brownie immensely. She sensed Vivian was trying her hardest to deal with it, in the only way she knew how. And that was by not dealing with it at all.

Vivian stared at it through the reflection in the mirror, fearfully. After all these years it still appeared red and raw as if it had happened a week ago. “I never touch it except to quickly brush over it as I am bathing.” Feeling safe yet vulnerable in Brownie’s presence, her eyes suddenly misted up. “I . . . I hate it.”

“Vivian, we all have scars, inside and out. I think it’s important that you embrace the burn. If you can’t learn to love it, at least respect it. Be proud of it. It’s your badge of courage. It is there as a reminder to you, that at a very young age, you suffered a horrific accident but you survived. You were given a second chance.”

She smiled as Brownie embraced her in a very motherly fashion.

“Vivian, it’s important to share with the world both your inner and outer beauty. You are your own treasure chest, don’t hide away your precious jewels.” Brownie took Vivian’s hand and walked her over to the endless number of dresses hanging on racks. “Now let’s find you some pretty things.”

Luckily, both women were a size 6/8 and as if she had won a shopping spree on a game show, Brownie loaded Vivian down with dresses, gowns, coats, hats, shoes, bags, anything Brownie could get her hands on. With the help of the stylist team, Vivian ran behind an antique Italian dressing screen while Brownie flicked on a switch. From hidden speakers mounted in the walls, Frank Sinatra could be heard singing
Three Coins In The Fountain
as Brownie sat down in the stylist’s chair and watched Vivian model each outfit.

With her hair swept up in a French twist, Vivian first emerged wearing an exquisite mauve silk strapless Jean Louis gown with a matching velvet bolero jacket and opera length gloves.

Brownie’s hands flew to her mouth as she jumped to her feet she was so taken by her beauty. “Brava!”

Vivian twirled around once, laughed, curtsied and flew back behind the dressing screen.

Next, she came out in a single-breasted gray Chanel suit with two stand pockets and an inverted box pleat at the center front of the skirt. It was paired with a cream satin blouse that had a large bowtie. And to complete the ensemble, she wore black suede pumps and toted a matching handbag. She looked like a million dollars. Vivian walked up and down the dressing room as Brownie spun her around, nodding approvingly.

“Chic! Impressive!”

Vivian dashed behind the screen for her next change.

With her hair simply brushed back, Vivian came out in a stunning creation inspired by a dress worn by Grace Kelly in
Rear Window
and designed by Edith Head. It had a fitted black bodice with a deep V cut down to the bust in the front, and in the rear, to the small of her back. With an off the shoulder neckline and cap sleeves, its full skirt was hemmed at mid-calf. With it she wore a white chiffon shoulder stole and black high-heeled shoes with asymmetric straps. She stood before Brownie holding a narrow black patent leather belt.

She paused a moment and then slipped the belt around her waist and fastened it tightly. Vivian took a deep breath and smiled at Brownie as she got up and hugged her.

“Good for you, Vivian. And by the way, you look like a princess.”

Vivian ran behind the screen for one more change. Finally she emerged with her hair curled tighter, similar to Brownie’s and wore a simple but elegant silk dress with a geometric pattern in blue and white. The close fitted top had a square collar and capped sleeves while the skirt was full and flared. On her feet she wore matching blue pumps and around her neck, a short strand of pearls.

Brownie stepped back admiring her. Side by side, they glanced at each other in the mirror and smiled.

“Now let me think,” Brownie teased, “where have I seen this look before?”

They both doubled over in laugher.

The icing on the cake was that Brownie let Vivian keep everything she tried on.

•  •  •

That night Brownie paced the stage of the Pacific Hall in a tight wasted floral chiffon dress. She had praised and congratulated the attendees for all the hard work they had accomplished. And with the help of the Wish Fairy, she had also handed out an assortment of gifts, which included a complete living room set, a bedroom suite, a one-week Paris vacation, and an entire wardrobe for a family with 12 children.

“As we close this year’s Jubilee we must reflect. It is a time for gratification and it is a time for Thanksgiving. We would not be human if we were not gratified at the success we have had. We would not be very worthwhile human beings if we were not thankful for it. Thankful not for luck, in which I have very little confidence, but thankful for the strength which has been given to our hand and the ingenuity that has been given to our minds and the willingness with which our spirits have been enriched.” The audience applauded. “We have only one more wish to grant, one more magical selection. Everyone, close your eyes and concentrate on realizing your deepest desire.”

The auditorium became silent as all visualized what they needed most in their lives. A soft buzzing sound came over the PA system indicating that the Wish Fairy was in the hall. She tiptoed on point down the center aisle wearing her tutu and waving her magic wand and stopped a row past Vivian’s and lifted her wand. She took a step back and gently touched Vivian’s shoulder. She opened her eyes and screamed as the crowd went wild.

Dressed in the last outfit she had modeled for Brownie, she ran down the aisle to the stage and almost tripped running up the side stairs. Brownie beamed as she handed Vivian the piece of paper she had tacked up onto the corkboard the first day of Jubilee.

“Vivian, please read to everyone what your wish was.”

She was so excited her hands trembled, making it hard for her to read her own writing.

“My husband left me, I lost my house and I have no automobile. I’m fine on my own, a home I’ll buy someday but I really could use a car to get to my Tupperware parties.”

The audience was silent.

“Let Vivian’s wish be granted.”

Brownie gestured to the curtains behind her as Vivian turned around. The red velvet drapes opened and there, slowly spinning on a platform, was a car.

“Vivian, it’s a brand new, two-tone pink and white Chevrolet convertible. It’s motoramic!”

Vivian’s knees buckled and Brownie had to catch her from falling. Vivian whispered to her. “A 1955?”

Brownie smiled, shaking her head. “56. With a V8 engine.”

“The only V8 I’ve ever had was in a drink!”

Brownie embraced her again and walked back to the microphone as Vivian touched the beautiful car. “And if Vivian accepts this offer, we would like her to star in our next Tupperware television commercial!”

The audience went crazy as Vivian managed to walk over to Brownie. She looked at her in disbelief. “Me?”

Brownie nodded. “And your answer is?”

She looked out to the auditorium as the crowd roared and then back to Brownie.

“Yes! Yes! Of course, yes!”

Vivian was back in Abbot only a few days before Tupperware had her on a train zooming down to New York to shoot the commercial. She was allowed to bring a travel companion and of course Babs nominated herself. Meanwhile, Stew, with help from the women Vivian had recruited as dealers, took care of the parties she had already pre-booked.

Neither of them had ever been to Manhattan and Babs was determined to make the most of the trip. As the train pulled into Grand Central Station she jumped to her feet.

“An all expense paid vacation to New York City,” she squealed as she started pulling down her suitcases from the overhead rack. “Who would have thunk?”

“This is not a vacation,” Vivian corrected her as she carried her sensibly sized suitcase in one hand and make-up case and handbag in the other. “You’re my chaperone. This is a business trip.” Vivian made a frightened face. “And I have to make a television commercial.”

The doors to the train opened and Vivian gracefully stepped out onto the platform as Babs was lost behind. Caught in a stream of travelers eager to disembark, she tried to drag out not one, but two large overstuffed suitcases, two smaller cases, a make-up case, a handbag and a hatbox, as hurried male commuters pushed and prodded their way past her.

“What happened to chivalry?” Babs shouted, as she was the last to exit the train car.

She caught up to Vivian just as she was about to enter the Grand Concourse. They thought Boston’s South Station was impressive but this was simply jaw-droppingly magnificent. The expansive structure was 125 feet high, 275 feet long and 120 feet wide. The elaborately decorated astronomical ceiling was painted in gold leaf on cerulean blue oil and the celestial stars were illuminated with light bulbs.

Gold chandeliers hung from the ceilings adding another flare of opulence but it was the giant sunbeams streaming in through the 60-foot high arched windows at either end of the terminal that truly made it feel like a religious experience.

Vivian and Babs spun around drinking in the experience without speaking a word. Suddenly, a stampede of people who had discovered that their departing train had switched tracks, nearly trampled them down running to their newly announced gate. Once the coast was clear, Vivian and Babs took a deep breath and headed towards the west side exit.

Vivian took out a piece of paper from her handbag. “It says here that the hotel is only 17 blocks and one avenue away. Do you want to save some money and walk it?”

“Their money?” Babs gave her a ludicrous stare and pointed to her luggage.

“Taxi!” Vivian hollered as they exited Grand Central Station.

•  •  •