“Pretty Girl theatrical foundation will cover anything from a bad bruise to a zit.” Luanne sounded proud of her products. “But you don’t need it, Hannah. Your skin is perfect. You must use just the right combination of moisturizer and night cream. If I were you, I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Hannah stifled a grin. She wasn’t planning to change anything, especially since she’d never used a moisturizer or a night cream in her life. She washed her face with whatever soap was on sale at the Red Owl and never thought twice about it.

“Just lean back and relax, Hannah,” Luanne said in a professional voice. “By the time I get through with you, you’ll look better than you’ve ever looked before in your life.”

Chapter Six

When Hannah walked into the community center, the first person she saw was her mother. Delores Swensen was holding court at the far end of the room, surrounded by a circle of her friends. As Hannah watched, her mother reached up to pat her sleek dark hair and her tasteful diamond earrings glittered in the overhead lights. She was wearing the soft blue dress that had been in the window of Beau Monde Fashions and her purse and shoes matched perfectly. Hannah’s mother was still a beautiful woman and she knew it. At fifty-three, Delores was winning the battle against time and only Hannah, who’d helped her mother with her finances for several months following her father’s death, knew exactly how expensive that battle was. Fortunately, Delores had the money to spend. Hannah’s father had left Delores in very good financial shape and she’d also inherited from her parents. There was no way that Delores could run out of money, even if she resorted to costly tummy tucks and face-lifts.

Hannah sighed as made her way through the crowd. With the exception of her hair color, Andrea resembled Delores. And Michelle was another petite beauty. Both of her younger sisters had inherited their mother’s beauty genes. Hannah was the only one in the family to take after her father. She was cursed with his curly, unmanageable red hair and she was at least four inches taller than her sisters. When strangers saw Delores with her daughters, they assumed that Hannah was adopted.

Delores was laughing at something that one of her friends had said. Hannah waited until the group of ladies had disbanded and then she walked over to tap Delores on the shoulder. “Hi, Mother.”

“Hannah?” Delores turned to face her. Her eyes widened, her mouth opened in a round O of shock, and she dropped her purse to grab Hannah’s hand.

“What is it?” Hannah began to frown.

“I don’t believe it, Hannah! You’re actually wearing makeup!”

Hannah was puzzled by her mother’s reaction. She’d decided to wear the results of Luanne’s makeover to the fundraiser, but if she’d known that Delores would react with such gaping-mouthed astonishment, she would have stopped at The Cookie Jar and washed her face. “You don’t like it?”