Page 41 of The Incredible Kindness of Paper

Chloe

Before Chloe knew it, it was already Saturday evening.

The past two days had been packed with working at Giovanni’s and the garage, folding paper roses, and a phone interview for a possible guidance counselor position (although she was pretty sure she wouldn’t get it, since she only had two years of experience in the job, and with the citywide budget cuts, there were plenty of others vying for the position).

Now, though, she was seated in a chair in her own bedroom, with Thelma the Terrier Lady circling with a blow dryer and Jocelyn—a new volunteer at their Central Park tables—hovering off to the side with a huge silver box full of makeup and brushes.

For most of Thelma’s life, she had been a hairstylist for the wealthy women of the Upper West Side.

It explained why her silver hair was always elegantly coiffed or blown out, as well as the imperious way Thelma carried herself.

She herself might not have had a lot of money, but she’d worked in a slice of New York where her clientele did, and in making herself a chameleon to fit in their world, some of that world had rubbed off on her.

As soon as Thelma heard that Chloe had a fancy gala to attend, she insisted on doing Chloe’s hair. She might not be able to be on her feet all day anymore with her bad hip, but she could spend a couple hours on Chloe’s hair. And Jocelyn turned out to be a wiz at makeup.

“It’s the least we can do to thank you for the paper roses,” they’d said.

“Your hair is so beautiful,” Thelma said now, pausing to run her fingers through it. “It’s thick and has great shine. I can really do anything with it. What would you like?”

“I’m not sure,” Chloe said. “Nothing too staid. Maybe a bohemian updo?”

Thelma glanced over at the wispy blue gown in the closet. “I do like the bohemian energy, but maybe only half of your hair up? I can do a mix of loose braids and waves, which will complement the length and airiness of that dress.”

“And I can do something smoky but magical with your eye shadow,” Jocelyn said. “A subtle blend of lavender, blue, and charcoal.”

“It sounds perfect,” Chloe said.

While Thelma and Jocelyn worked, they chatted about dogs.

In the half hour since they’d met, the two had already come up with an idea to match cancer patients with dogs for companionship visits.

As Thelma pointed out, you couldn’t help feeling joy when Rufus or his other friends were snuggling up to you, looking at you with their big eyes full of nothing but affection.

Chloe was so proud that it was because of her that this was happening. She knew that there were many things in life much bigger than pieces of yellow paper, but still, it was incredible how one small intention of kindness could set off others. People could be so wonderful.

Once chatter about the dogs wound down, though, the talk, of course, turned back to the gala.

“So, is that young man of yours coming to pick you up?” Thelma asked as she pinned a braid with several bobby pins.

“No, unfortunately he’s not—”

Chloe had been about to say he’s not invited , but she caught herself before she finished the sentence. She’d been thinking about Tolly-maybe-Oliver. Her heartbeat skittered at the mistake.

But of course, Thelma had meant Zac. The man Chloe was actually dating.

“Um, my date is flying in from a business trip,” Chloe said, still a little flummoxed by the unexpected appearance of Oliver in her thoughts. “Zac and I are going to meet at the gala.”

“Hmm,” Jocelyn said.

In the mirror, Chloe could see that Thelma’s face was also pinched.

“What are you two thinking but not saying?” Chloe said.

“Oh, nothing,” Thelma said, finishing a second braid.

“It’s just that, in my day, if a gentleman and a lady were attending a party together, he would never make her show up alone.

He would come to her home and escort her properly.

My Tyrell always had daisies—my favorite—when he knocked on my door.

But I know I’m old-fashioned. I suppose the young are liberated and you don’t need bouquets of flowers anymore. ”

Chloe sighed wistfully, though, and Jocelyn echoed it.

The slow, organic way of getting to know a person had become an endangered species.

Dating nowadays started with apps and text conversations where you were expected to spill your life story out onto a screen before you even met face-to-face.

(Or, at least, the parts of your life story you wanted to share).

It was all primed for efficiency, not romance.

Sure, Zac spoiled her with Tiffany’s jewelry and a shopping spree at Bergdorf Goodman, but that wasn’t the same thing as the take-your-time, old-fashioned kind of courtship Thelma was talking about.

“To be honest,” Chloe said, “I wouldn’t mind a little romance.”

Thelma met her eyes in the mirror and smiled gently. “I know, sweet pea. And you deserve it.”