The Heart of a Man

“I remember you saying a bunch of stuff. I don’t remember me saying anything at all. Most particularly that I wanted to participate in such nonsense.”

“Oh, but you do, Isobel, whether you want to admit it now or not. Think of the tremendous challenge involved. I know you love the idea, deep down. Admit it!”

Isobel crossed her arms and shook her head. Vehemently.

“Don’t you see? Dustin Fairfax would be a test of your true strength as an image consultant.” Camille raised her hands to emphasize the mental marquee board. “I mean, they make gorgeous hunks into ugly bums all the time in the movies. Don’t you think you could do the opposite for one poor man who needs what only your special brand of fashion sense can bring to him? He’ll be a new man!”

Isobel admitted—in her heart, anyway—that she was intrigued, despite every bone of sense in her body screaming to the contrary. Something about the whole setup just didn’t seem right, though she wasn’t sure what was bothering her.

It sounded innocent enough on the outside, but something…

“How old is this man?” she asked after a slight but pregnant pause.

“Dustin?” Camille asked, her eyes gleaming with the victory she sensed was coming.

Isobel was quite aware Camille knew her better than anyone. They’d spent their whole lives together, been best friends forever. Camille would know that once Isobel capitulated in the least, she had her bagged and roasted for sure.

Camille certainly looked like a tiger hunter in full triumph, stripes sighted down her scope.

“Well, I know Addison is thirty-three,” her friend supplied thoughtfully. “And since Dustin is his younger brother, I would guess he’d be about thirty, give or take a year.”

“And what, exactly, is wrong with him?” she asked, feeling as if she ought to be taking notes. “I have to know the truth, here, if you want me to help.”

“Oh, nothing’s wrong with him, really,” Camille exclaimed with a high laugh. “Addison said he’s just—flighty. That’s the word he used.”

Isobel raised one eyebrow. Here, she suspected, was where the roof caved in.

“At least by Addison’s standards, Dustin doesn’t dress very well. He’s not sophisticated. That shouldn’t be a huge challenge for you.”

“He’s not a homeless man or something like that?” Isobel was still cautious. Too much about this story still didn’t mesh. Something was off just a little, though she couldn’t put her finger on just what it was.

She gave Camille a hard, serious stare. “Dustin is aware this is going to happen to him? He has agreed to work with me?”

“He happens to own a small flower store on the 16th Street Mall. Retail, you know? He’s successful, in his own way, I guess, though he’s a long way from the clientele you’re used to working with.”

Camille paused, running her tongue along her bottom lip. “And as for your other question, he hasn’t exactly been told. Yet.”

Isobel opened her mouth to argue but Camille held her hands up to cut her off.

“As soon as you agree, Addison will make sure Dustin knows to expect you. It’s all been arranged, but Addison didn’t want to speak to his brother about it until I’d finalized things with you.”

“What if Dustin says no?”

“He won’t,” Camille said with a firm nod. “He might want to, but he won’t. You see, there’s money riding on this venture. Apparently quite a lot of money.”

“He will get a lot of money if he learns to dress well?” Isobel asked, stymied. “But deep down he really wouldn’t want to do this. Is that what you’re really telling me?”

“It’s complicated,” Camille explained with a patient sigh. “Addison was left to execute his father’s will, and Izzy, the poor man is beside himself, with the situation being what it is. I feel so sorry for him. What a predicament!”

“Go on,” Isobel urged, not at all certain she wanted to hear more.

“Apparently their father was afraid Dustin would squander his inheritance away instead of doing something useful with it. Addison is terribly worried about his brother. I guess he’s kind of stubborn, and he’s definitely his own man. Marches to the beat of his own drummer, so to speak.”

She paused, clasping her hand over her heart in the melodramatic way that was uniquely Camille’s. “Can you imagine the tremendously heavy burden their father left on poor Addison?”

“How so?”

“Addison was named Dustin’s trustee in the will, even though Dustin is a full-grown man. You can imagine how Dustin felt. And Addison certainly didn’t ask for the formidable task of bringing Dustin into line. According to the terms of the will, Dustin has certain obligations to meet—delineated by his father—in order for Addison to release the funds to his brother.”

“He has to learn to dress well?” Isobel asked again, befuddled. “In order to get his hands on his rightful inheritance?”

None of this made the least bit of sense, and Isobel was beginning to feel very much as if she’d stepped into another dimension.

What kind of a man was Dustin, that his father would put such insane demands on him?

One thing she knew for certain—she would balk at such radical and unusual demands being placed upon her. If Dustin were half the independent spirit Camille had described him to be…

Camille laughed. “No, of course not, silly. He has to make a splash in society or something outrageous like that, and of course clothes make the man, right?

“It’s a good start,” Isobel said with a laugh and a shrug. I’d be looking for a little more than that in a man.

Camille giggled. “After I told Addison about you, he thought you’d be the perfect person to bring Dustin around. You, of all people, can guide him in making a true contribution to society. Those are the exact terms of the will. Can you believe it?”

“I see,” Isobel said under her breath, though she wasn’t sure she did. The idea was intriguing, of course; definitely intriguing. The thought of transforming a scalawag of a man into a prince would be a challenge, but it also sounded kind of fun.

“Okay,” she said after only a brief pause to consider the short-and long-term ramifications of her decision. She didn’t want to examine her own motives too closely. “I’ll do it.”

She didn’t ask how much money she would make. She was taking on this project for the challenge, and she trusted Camille that the time she spent would be worth her weight in gold. Literally.

And she was surprised by how excited she was at the prospect of making over the erstwhile Dustin. It had been a long time since she’d done something truly stimulating, and her heart was pounding with anticipation.

“I knew this was something you’d want to do,” Camille squealed, throwing her arms around Isobel’s neck and dancing her around in dizzying circles. “Oh, how wonderful for you!”

“Wonderful for me?” she asked, laughing at her friend’s excited antics. “I thought Dustin was the one to benefit from this deal.”

“Oh, he will,” her friend agreed immediately. “He most definitely will. But won’t it be such fun for you, as well? Admit it. You love the idea. Pygmalion at its best.”

“I suppose the idea has merit,” she agreed. “I do have one condition, however, and I refuse to take on this project unless it is met unconditionally.”

“What’s that?”

“This Dustin guy—he has to go into this experiment with his eyes wide open. If he doesn’t agree to the makeover, if he is not comfortable with the idea of working with me or if he expresses doubts or disinterest, I do not want to move forward with this.” Isobel listed items on her fingers. “The project must all be conducted on the up-and-up, with everything laid out up front for Dustin and for me. No surprises and no reluctant subjects. Do you understand what I’m getting at here?”

“I’ll speak to Addison immediately,” Camille assured her, obviously trying to rein in her high, excited tone and appear more businesslike and reserved. It didn’t fool Isobel for a moment.

Her friend continued, gulping in air to remain calm. “He said he would be the one to speak to Dustin about it and firm up the final details. After that I’ll be able to let you know when and where you two can meet and get the ball rolling toward Dustin’s new look. He’s got to agree. He just has to.” She winked. “Especially when he meets you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Isobel squawked, feigning offense and pressing her lips together to keep her smile hidden.