YOUR FRIEND,
RENATA (DON’T CALL ME STRINGBEAN ANYMORE)
Bergdorf Bonding
On the way to John Barrett’s salon, Christy dialed the office. “Lisa, call me as soon as Katherine gets in. I want to talk to her.” Lisa promised she would.
At Bergdorf’s, she and Renata were whisked up in the stark white elevator filled with elegantly turned matrons from Connecticut, Japan, and the Middle East. Renata was not happy. Her grandmother took her to the corner barbershop instead of a fancy salon. But Christy persevered, sure she would warm up to the adventure sooner or later. Besides, Christy didn’t know any barbers.
She had been coming here for years, ever since Katherine brought her up and personally turned her over to John Barrett, the owner and a hairdresser so famous that he was introduced to Princess Diana at the Metropolitan Museum Costume Ball as the hairdresser of American royalty. John and his staff had taught Christy a lot about being a New York woman; they were almost like her own private finishing school. Maybe they could help Renata fit in with those over-groomed Colby girls.
The elevator opened on the opposite side, which Renata got a great kick out of. They entered a world of sparse elegance, with lavender walls and minimalist furnishings. It was completely quiet; everyone was speaking in their best indoor voices. The entry foyer was a wide-open expanse of marble floor, with hairdressers and their attendants, mostly young, all skinny, clad in black and white, rushing quietly from one side of the salon to the other.
Michelle greeted Christy like a long-lost sister, then introduced herself to Renata. She took their order for drinks and no-calorie salads. The walls were lined with black-and-white photos from fashion shoots, featuring beautiful young girls in candid moments behind the scenes. Renata, who was tough to intimidate, seemed cowed and said nothing.
A few minutes later, Michelle led them back to Anna, the gorgeous bronze-skinned redhead who would be cutting Renata’s hair. Christy knew it wouldn’t do to ask for John in this situation, and she didn’t think Renata needed a $400 haircut. She wasn’t convinced that she herself needed them. Anna and Renata started bonding immediately, both Queens-born and bred. Anna trimmed away at lightning speed, revealing a refined and even more lovely Renata. Looking at her, Christy realized with some pride that none of Renata’s classmates had her natural beauty.
As Anna was finishing, Gabrielle walked over. At five feet nine, with four-inch heels and spiky hair, she was an institution all her own, harder to get in to see than John himself. She liked Christy, but Christy was left to wonder if it was because she was such a nice person or because she was plastered on billboards all over the city. Of course, at this salon, she was a very minor celebrity. Christy was grateful that her marriage to Michael had ensured her place as John’s client.
As Gabrielle began plucking Renata’s eyebrows with her awful instruments of torture, the child let out a wail. All heads turned, the soft hum of name-dropping and confessing all to one’s hairdresser halted. Christy stifled a giggle, remembering her own reaction the first time. But then Renata saw the results. She looked regal, like a real Mexican princess. Anna had managed to tame her hair without sacrificing the dramatic impact of those long black curls. And Renata liked it. She smiled at herself in the mirror. Christy felt she had finally done something right.
James Bonding
Steven, can you drop me at the office, then take Renata to Stephanie’s house?” Christy asked when they hopped in the car.
“No problem,” he said.
“That was kinda fun,” Renata said. “I’m gonna get my hair cut at beauty shops from now on.”
Christy fluffed her curls. “You liked that, huh?”
Renata nodded. Steven observed the girls in his rearview mirror and chuckled.
“That’s a pretty necklace,” Christy said, admiring the gold chain and heart that Renata was wearing. “Was it your grandma’s?”
“No. Stephanie Rich gave it to me. It means we’re best friends.”
“Really?” Christy said as her cell phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID: It was Lisa. “So where’s Katherine?” Christy asked.
“Sorry I took so long to get back to you, but she just called. Said she had to go to Connecticut for a family emergency.”
Christy thought for a moment. “Lisa, do me a favor. Go to the Nextel site, the mobile locator page where you can track a phone. Do you know how to do that?”
“Oh, sure. I keep that page on my screen all day so Katherine can track Alex.”
“Can you use it to find Katherine?” Christy asked.
“Just give me a second here. I have to input her number,” Lisa said while typing. “Well, what do you know?” she exclaimed.
“What?”
“She’s not in Connecticut. She’s home. At least, her phone is.”
“Thanks,” Christy said. “Remind me to thank Katherine for telling me about the tracking feature. I’ll stop at her house. But don’t let her know.” Christy snapped her cell shut. “Steven, on second thought, take me
