Free Hostile Makeover by Ellen Byerrum Page A

conquests are married or not.”
    And we’ve made a turn into new territory, Lacey observed.
    “I told you, Yvette, it was just a fling with your darling Brad. It didn’t mean anything. Not to me. And certainly not to him. Just look at him. Does Brad care about anyone but Brad?”
    Amanda’s gaze passed over their heads, and Lacey followed her eyes. Brad Powers was standing at the door, well within hearing distance. He looked like a man made of polished stone and gave no hint of what he might be thinking. This chic Georgetown boutique crowd is really tough, Lacey thought, taking mental notes. Powers turned and left without a word.
    “It means something to me, old friend.” Yvette spat the last two words at Amanda and stormed out of the room, followed by Zoe, who always seemed to want to smooth things over. Yvette stopped her cold. “Leave me alone, Zoe. And after tonight I want her out of here.”
    Zoe said nothing, but padded back morosely. She picked up a mug of tea and avoided the sweets. Amanda turned her attention back to Lacey.
    “It’s Greg; I know it is. He called me the biggest mistake he ever made.” Amanda’s eyes began to fill with tears. “He said he wished he’d never met me and that I would be better off ugly. Better off if he’d never made the first incision. Better off if I never met him.” The tears began to slip down Amanda’s cheeks.
    “This wasn’t the first time you were engaged, though, was it?” Lacey asked quietly. Everyone turned to look at her. Zoe rattled her mug on the table, narrowly missing a spill. “There was Caleb Collingwood.”
    Penfield clicked off a couple of close-ups with a Nikon, and Amanda waved him away.
    Amanda sat down and looked at the floor. “That is ancient history, and we were talking about Greg Spaulding,” she sniffed.
    “But surely you’re not in danger here in Washington. Spaulding’s a well-known plastic surgeon. In Beverly Hills.” At least, that was what Lacey remembered about Dr. Greg Spaulding.
    “He’s not in Beverly Hills. He’s here in D.C. for a conference on plastic surgery. He’s one of the speakers and organizers; he’s been here for a week.”
    “What is his speech about? His work on The Chrysalis Factor ? ”
    Amanda rolled her eyes. “How he miraculously saved poor woebegone little Mandy Manville. How he deserves all the credit. He tells the world I’m his masterpiece. But he tells me I’m a monster.”
    “Oh, no, Dr. Greg has totally changed his focus,” Zoe cut in, and absentmindedly took a chocolate off the tray. “Greg is delivering a talk about physicians who donate their services to help children with disfigured faces in third-world countries. He’s raising money for them.”
    “He’s no Mother Teresa, Zoe. He’s a phony.”
    “He’s not a phony, Mandy, he’s not. And he’s not the scourge of Beverly Hills either.” Zoe faced Lacey. “He donates a couple of months every year to perform surgery on these children at no cost. Greg’s actually a very decent and nice man.” Zoe licked chocolate off her fingers, daring her sister to say something.
    “A nice man who wants to see me die.” Amanda leaped to her feet and paced the stage. She never gave up the floor for very long. “That’s why he’s here!”
    “These surgeons change lives dramatically,” Zoe told Lacey.
    “He changed my life, and then he left me,” Amanda screeched.
    Lacey was beginning to think that Greg Spaulding had good reason to flee his creation. “If he’s so busy, how could he find time to come after you and leave little notes?”
    “He’s hired somebody to do his dirty work. He’s good at that.”
    “Amanda,” Lacey asked, “did you arrange to be here while Greg Spaulding was in town?”
    “No! Premiering Chrysalis at Snazzy Jane’s has been on the calendar for at least six months. It was part of my plan all along,” Amanda protested. “It’s been my driving desire to premiere my clothes in my hometown. Next week