"Sorry," Lisbeth said around a mouthful of metal spikes. "Almost done." She tacked in a few more bobby pins and then shellacked everything in place with a cloud of hair spray.
When the stinging chemical spray had finally settled, Claire opened her eyes and looked in the mirror. With her hair up and the subtle-but-glamorous makeup she'd put on earlier sharpening her cheekbones and darkening her eyes, she looked older. More sophisticated. And very much like her mother. Claire's heart fluttered in her chest.
"Just look at you. You're all grown up," Lisbeth's lip quivered.
That was all it took to break the spell. Claire groaned and stood up from the vanity. "Okay, thanks for the primping and all, but there's no crying allowed. It's just a dance, Lisbeth."
"Yeah, but it's your first one, and—"
"That's it! Out!"
Lisbeth looked hurt.
"Oh, c'mon." Claire sighed. "At least let me get my dress on before you get all weepy, okay?"
"Deal." Lisbeth sniffed, heading for the door.
Alone in her room at last, Claire closed her eyes and took a long, slow breath. So far, so good.
I can do this. It's one night. With one lie at the end of it. I. Can. Do. This.
She really didn't have that much time before the guys were due to arrive. She hurried over to her closet and slipped on her dress before stepping into the heels that looked so cute but pinched her toes like hell.
After a last, satisfied glance in the mirror, Claire picked up her duffel bag and headed down the hall. Emily opened the door to the guest room before Claire was even halfway there, and came tearing out into the hall, all shrieking smiles and sparkling dress.
"Oh my freaking God, Claire, you look amazing!"
"Thanks." Claire felt her cheeks getting warm. "You look great too. Very punk-rock glam."
Amy stepped out behind Emily, and Claire's joy evaporated. Amy looked innocent and sexy and approachable all at once. She looked like the perfect human girl who was going to the perfect human dance and who was worrying about exactly nothing more than that. She reeked of anticipation, and jealousy snaked through Claire. She'd spent a whole day plotting and scheming just to go to the dance, and she was still going to disappoint Emily terribly before the night was over.
"Oooh—is that what you're wearing to my house?" Emily stared at the bag, practically rubbing her hands together with anticipation.
Claire resisted the urge to slip the duffel behind her back, out of Emily's reach. "Yep," she said. "I can't wear these heels all night," she added, hating herself for stretching her lies an extra inch. The doorbell rang, and Amy's face broke into a wide grin. "They're here."
The three of them flounced downstairs, their high heels clicking onto the marble floor of the front hall just as Lisbeth opened the door.
Chapter Sixteen
MATTHEW STOOD ON the porch, glancing over his shoulder at Randy and Julio, who were just climbing out of Randy's Suburban. Underneath a charcoal gray overcoat, Matthew had on a crisp white shirt and onyx black tuxedo. He looked amazing. Claire watched him as he stepped into the house and took in her hair, her dress, her overall way-more-glamorous-thanthe-usual-Claire ensemble. A muscle in his jaw tightened and he swallowed hard.
"Claire. You look absolutely gorgeous. No—stunning. That's the word I want. I'm stunned," Matthew said, as the other guys crept in behind him, muttering compliments to Emily and Amy.
Claire grinned at Matthew, the glow of his attention throwing everything else into shadow. "You look pretty fabulous yourself."
"Thanks," he said, a little stiffly. "It's pretty different from my usual outfits, I guess."
Lisbeth cleared her throat. "Okay, you guys. Go over in front of the fireplace. I'm no Marie Benoit, but I'm still capable of taking a pre-dance photo, I think."
Lisbeth arranged them in front of the mantle like living statues, rearranged them, then struggled with the lens and the flash. Claire's throat tightened as Lisbeth fought with the camera. It should have been her mother who was there. Taking the photos. Joking with everyone. Pretending she wasn't getting choked up.
On top of the sadness coiling around her, Claire noticed that Matthew had moved over by the couch, joking with Amy about something while Lisbeth took a "look at my corsage" photo of Claire.
The corsage was gorgeous—a wristlet that curved around her arm with clusters of tiny white and pale green orchids. It set off Claire's dress and the creamy skin of her hands.