Eugenia drove back to the office of Miles & Slocum, where Elle dropped off her witness books and Brooke jumped around like a hummingbird. After waiting fruitlessly for Christopher to return, Elle decided to leave. It was Thursday, the spring days were beginning to warm and lengthen, and already she was savoring the indulgence of a long weekend.
“You’ll have a summer job waiting,” Eugenia beamed.
“Heyworth’s ex-wives certainly had some potential hair salon malpractice,” Elle said.
Brooke quieted, and Elle gulped a quick apology. “I’m sorry to bring up Heyworth, Brooke.”
“That’s okay.” The widow shrugged, collecting herself.
“He’s been avenged!” Eugenia blurted, thumping her fist on Elle’s desk. “That despicable daughter of his won’t see the inside of a hair salon for a long, long time.”
“Fitting,” Brooke said, nodding with satisfaction. Elle glanced at her curiously.
“She’s got her permanent now, the wretch,” Brooke said with a smile. “A permanent prison sentence.”
Elle giggled. “Hey, Brooke,” she said, tugging on her client’s arm. “You up for partying with us tonight? I won’t promise you much in Palo Alto, but I think it’s time for you to get back on the scene. In search of…”
“Single white male,” Brooke finished, smiling. “Definitely. Do you know any cute law students?”
“No!” Elle and Eugenia exclaimed in unison.
“We’ll see about that.” Brooke winked, trotting out the office door.
In an hour they were toasting the future around the cactus-legged table in Elle’s condo. Flushed with champagne and giggling madly, the gathering was reminiscent of “Margotitaville” days at USC. Underdog leaped toward Elle’s lap, missing her slightly, a bit dizzy from the champagne that Brooke had poured into his dog dish.
Brooke gave the first toast, encouraging them both to graduate early so she could finance the Blonde Legal Defense Fund with her Vandermark fortune.
Elle raised her glass. “To being a Ken-free Barbie!” Shouts and applause went all the way around.
“I wondered about that,” Eugenia said, nodding. “What’s up with Warner?”
“Finishing law school, then a life in Newport with Sarah, I guess.” Elle shrugged. “I’m too busy thinking about all of the things I want to do to think about him. Like getting the Barbie trademark and designing an entire jewelry line in her honor.”
“To Barbie,” Brooke announced, raising her glass. “Forever in pink.”
“To Visa,” Eugenia grinned, “living pink in the red.”
“Okay,” Elle acknowledged Brooke’s waving invitation, “my turn. To underdogs!” The drooping eyes of her faithful Chihuahua fluttered open at the sound of his name, then dropped contentedly shut. The three girls clinked glasses, drinking the remaining champagne.
Eugenia’s glass struck the table first. “Let’s hit University Avenue!” she chirped.
In a minute’s time, only one Underdog was left. He curled his head under his paws to sleep.
Brooke’s credit card flashed as gold as the microbrewed lagers they drank, as yellow as the cab, and as blonde as the heads of Brooke and Elle, who staggered back to Elle’s condo and wilted like morning glories.
Class was out of the picture on the lazy Friday when they awoke; Eugenia and Brooke headed to the city to shop, and Elle, wrapped in the warmth of her bathrobe, set to the task of cleaning her littered bedroom. She discarded piles of articles on the “Murder in Malibu,” trimming the raggedy edges of a few that were scrapbook worthy. In particular, one, which had a picture of Elle and Christopher on the courthouse steps.
She filed a few Law Review articles with her notes from Gilbreath’s Wills class, in case they would help her study for the final exam, which was approaching fast. She answered the knock at her door still swaddled in terry cloth, sure that Eugenia or Brooke had forgotten something.
When she swung the door open she froze, gasping in disbelief. Before her stood Sarah Knottingham, redolent with the fragrance of salon products; smiling, blushing, and nervously tugging at a strand of her newly styled and highlighted hair, finally free from a headband.
“Oh my God,” Elle stuttered, supporting herself with one hand against the wall. She stared without speaking, and Sarah grinned mischievously.
“Does it look that bad?” The preppie laughed anxiously and stared down at her espadrilles.
“Oh my God, Sarah. You’re…you’re…”
“Mind if I come in?” Sarah asked.
Underdog stared at Sarah suspiciously, and Elle took an unsteady hungover step backward.
“No, come in,” she managed. “Sarah, you got rid of your bob and that…that headband,” Elle said in victorious shock.
“Yeah, I pulled an Elle Woods,” Sarah laughed. “I skipped class and went to the beauty salon. It seemed to work okay for you,” she added. “Manicured and winning in court, I figured you had a secret.”
Elle regained some measure of composure when she sat down on the couch. “No secret,” she said. “Just habit, I guess. Manicures relax me.”
Sarah was still standing, and Elle stared noticeably at her visitor’s empty left hand.
“I gave the ring back.” Sarah shrugged her shoulders. “Now Warner has two ex-girlfriends making the law school curve worse for him. What do you think of that?”
Elle gulped, then smiled. “I’ve finally quit thinking about Warner,” she said, shaking her head as if waking from a dream. “Anyway, I think your hair looks so much better. I can’t believe you even got a few highlights!”
Sarah stroked her shiny coiffure. “I think it’s worth the upkeep.”
“Definitely.” Elle nodded with vigor. “Did you get a good conditioner?”
“Kiehls,” Sarah answered. “That’s what the stylist recommended.”
“Perfect.” Elle smiled.
Sarah handed Elle a bound outline from her shaky hand. “I’m finished with my Property outline,” she said. “I’m wondering if I can mine you for the answers for the Wills final? I saw some books you brought to the office one day on your desk and it looked like you could teach the class!” Sarah was highlighted, but still brunettely sensible.
“Of course,” Elle smiled, standing. “I’m almost done with my outline. Warner’s out of luck, but I’ll cut you in.” Elle couldn’t resist tugging at a strand of Sarah’s highlighted hair. “After all, you’re blonde at heart now.”
“A true blonde,” Sarah laughed, remembering Elle’s miniessay.
“Naturally,” Elle said.