The Favoured, The Fair and Ms. Vérité Claire

1 Dignity Always (part 2)

It turned out both Vérité and Julia suited each other very well. Vérité wanted always to be surrounded by persons or things of beauty, uniqueness, and potential. She found Julia's calm and lack of pretentions utterly refreshing; her remoteness something of an intriguing mystery. For the most social of butterflies was there any nectar as sweet as being the chosen company of someone who kept so little?

Julia was fascinated by Vérité's vivacity and generosity of spirit. She was prepared, of course, for the case that she might only be a hobby her employer would tire of and discard, but for once Julia could not pick up the scent of ulterior motive. Life in the spotlight which seemed to follow Vérité was not her raison d'être, rather her prime ambition seemed to be self betterment through graciousness towards others. Why not, Julia thought, be taken under wing by someone who lived her life so fully if she might peer from behind the safety of such magnificent plumage to see how it was done?

Advice was as often sensible - "If you thrust your neck out and dip your chin slightly, you will never have a mugshot for a passport photo," - as impractical, "When the Queen stops eating, so do you."

A recurring lesson was this: "Always cultivate and reward loyalty in those who keep you looking like you belong in the lifestyle to which you've grown accustomed."

For all the good it did.

"What do mean you can't fit me in?!" Vérité gaped at her salon's manager, Roger, who looked equally distraught. He wrung his hands to plead mercy.

"I couldn't get you in if you were a wet anorexic. The entire Westin family descended on us this morning."

"Bloody Westins! What, pray tell, am I to do with these then?"

She fanned her fingernails out for him and Julia could see nothing amiss. Roger's lips slid apart in revulsion.

"Please put them away."

"I know I will forgive you for this someday, Roger, only right now I don't know how."

It was all the manager could do to keep nausea from overtaking him as he watched his prized hen take her gravel scratchers someplace better able to accommodate them. He could only pray that they were improperly ventilated.

Vérité's driver, Umberto, started the car. Vérité was still problem solving as they climbed in.

"I've just got to get my nails done. I look like an old washer woman."

"There's a nail place across the street."

Julia pointed out Ming Soo's Nice Nail Place without a hint of jest.

"Do you think it's safe?"

"Says right there, 'Businessing since 1993'." This time she did laugh. "Can't hurt to take a look."

"Across the street then, Ms. Claire?" Umberto asked.

"Don't be silly," Vérité said. "We'll walk."

"But I'll have to pull up anyway."

Vérité shrugged and remained grandly patient as Umberto inched the town car out of its parking spot, making a hard won right to cross the street.

Ming Soo's was bright and spacious, had been given a recent inspection pass, and could not only take Vérité's manicure but a pedicure for Julia as well.

Julia happily settled into a squishy massage chair as her feet were placed in a bubbly soak-tub. Vérité sat in another room having her cuticles massaged. She tried to exchange pleasantries with her manicurist while the woman diligently ignored her. Vérité was far too pleased with her own resourcefulness to be bothered by it. She perused her colour choices of polish, selected a loud shade of orange and chuckled at its label. "'Seville Unrest'. That's clever. I think I'll have this one."