Scarlett Fever

Scarlett’s eyes were welling up, and so were Lola’s.

 

“I’ll always remember you did this for me,” Lola said. “Always.”

 

And there was such a moment of sisterly bonding, such genuine gladness that she was there with Lola and they clearly loved each other, that Scarlett decided not to think about the fact that this was probably true. Lola would never forget, and Scarlett had absolutely no idea what she had just done.

 

 

 

 

 

OUTRAGEOUS FORTUNE

 

When Scarlett got home the next afternoon, the lobby was full of bags—shopping bags, garment bags. She hadn’t seen so much stuff since the day Mrs. Amberson moved in. There was no one at the front desk, but the door to the dining room was partway open and there were voices coming from inside. Scarlett slid it open the rest of the way, revealing a small gathering—her parents and Lola.

 

“We’re having a kind of family meeting,” Lola said chirpily. “To talk about the party.”

 

“Party?” Scarlett repeated.

 

The party, Scarlett quickly gathered, was going to be a pretty epic affair. It was going to be held at a place called Point Manhattan, a private club on the roof of a building in midtown. The view, Lola assured them, was stunning, and the Sutcliffes pulled a few strings. A fabulous swing band had been hired. Menus were going to be finalized in the morning. The florists were already hard at work getting in the orders from all the flower markets. Scarlett watched her parents valiantly making efforts to argue that the party should be at the Hopewell, but clearly a massive engine had been set in motion, an engine that could be stopped by no one. Lola was hyper, chattering like a monkey.

 

“Come on,” Lola said, pulling Scarlett a little too roughly from her chair, “I have things to show you!”

 

In the lobby, Lola started grabbing bags. When she could carry no more, she shoved one of the shopping bags along the parqueted floor with her foot. Scarlett picked up what was left.

 

“What is this?” Scarlett asked, looking around.

 

“Just a few things for the wedding party.”

 

“Does this mean…”

 

“Wait until we get upstairs,” Lola said under her breath.

 

They managed to get it all in the elevator by propping open the gate and piling the bags around them. Once the elevator had creaked and moaned them up to the fifth floor, they pushed out the bags and got everything down the hall to the Orchid Suite. Within five minutes, there was an explosion of pastel tissue paper, box lids, ribbons, and wrappers. Five garment bags weighed down the closet doors. Lola gave them each a quick squeeze, seemingly able to divine their contents by the way they scrunched.

 

“You signed it,” Scarlett said.

 

She pushed aside some of the packages to make enough room to sit down. All of these lovely things looked so strange in the Orchid Suite—strange and right. At some point in history, people who wore lovely things were here all the time. That’s why the hotel was filled with dressing tables with many secret drawers and large carved wardrobes and silk-cushioned chairs to sit on while you applied your makeup.

 

These were the things that came from the Sutcliffes—small tokens of their much vaster wealth. And all Lola had had to do to earn them was sign a piece of paper saying that she wasn’t really equal to them. Yesterday, Scarlett didn’t see what the big deal was, and if Lola wanted to sign, she should sign. But now, seeing this, she started to change her mind. Maybe…Chip was right. Maybe she should have held out, just ignored the Sutcliffes entirely.

 

Of course, she couldn’t say this to Lola now.

 

“But how did all of that party stuff get planned today?” Scarlett said, looking around at the mass of things piled around them.

 

“It didn’t,” Lola said. “I think they knew I was going to sign, so Mrs. Sutcliffe—Anna—hired someone earlier in the week to start setting things up on the sly. She has friends everywhere, and she does a lot of society and charity events, so she has the number of every good florist, caterer, bakery in town. She picked out the cake.” The word cake came out with the kind of inflection used for words like taxes or dumped.

 

“What’s wrong with the cake?”

 

“The cake,” Lola said slowly, “is shaped like an enormous boat. Specifically, their boat. I hate boats.”

 

“So why…”

 

“Because,” Lola said, waving her arms helplessly, “they love their boat. And they seem convinced that the boat is what brought us back together. Chip must have told her we went for a ride on it, you know, the night of the show. And she knows we took a ride on the boat before he left for school. They went out to the slip yesterday to take photos. This bakery’s claim to fame is that they can make anything—and it’s all edible. No posts or supports or plastic bits. It’s one big…”

 

“Boat cake.”

 

“Right,” Lola said.

 

“Just like every girl dreams of,” Scarlett said.

 

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