“You’d look amazing,” I assure him. “Everyone looks stunning in a tuxedo.”
The limo glides to a stop on the curb, and Jones is opening the door for me, his hand extended to help me out.
“Here you are,” he says politely, motioning toward the door of a glitzy shop. “I’ll be waiting for you.”
I nod, and I’m greeted at the door by women in black uniform dresses and perfect red lipstick.
“Welcome, Miss Price,” they tell me. “We’ve been expecting you.”
It’s a bit overwhelming as they usher us in and press warm drinks into our hands. One of them pulls me over to a tufted velvet sofa and settles me onto it.
“My name is Ginger,” she tells me. “I’ll bring out the gown Mrs. Savage ordered for you.”
She turns on her high heel and disappears into a room, and I’m astounded. Eleanor ordered me a custom dress? When the heck had she done that? When we arrived?
Ginger returns after a mere moment with a demure pink silk gown draped in her hands.
She holds it up and I eye it.
It’s long, with a sweetheart neckline and delicate hem, the palest of pinks.
I shrug. “Can I try it on?”
I’m not overly impressed and Ginger seems surprised.
“Of course, miss,” she tells me, and leads me into a dressing room. She begins to undress me and I freeze.
“I can do this myself,” I dismiss her.
“Are you sure?”
“I’ve been doing it all my life,” I assure her. Do rich people really let people dress and undress them? Holy cow. This isn’t what I thought I was signing up for.
I pull the whisper-soft fabric on, and it drapes against me, fitting like only something expensive can. It’s an innocent dress and it’s beautiful, but to me, it washes my coloring out.
“I… um.”
“Can I help?” Ginger calls over the door. I turn the handle and step out.
She eyes me.
“It fits you perfectly.”
I can’t argue with that. But it also does nothing for me. It’s a dress for a twelve-year old, and it doesn’t complement my coloring.
As I’m turning in the mirror, trying to like it, a swatch of crimson red catches my eye, and I gravitate it like the earth toward the sun.
Ginger trails behind, and I run the red satin beneath my fingers.
“This one,” I say uncertainly. “It’s beautiful. May I try it on?”
Ginger’s hesitant. “This gown… it was made for someone else,” she says slowly, but when I’m so obviously disappointed, she quickly adds, “But of course you can try it. We can always create another for Miss Aimes. I don’t want to upset Mrs. Savage.”
I don’t correct her… I don’t tell her that I would never say something bad about her to Eleanor, because she’s so quick to try and keep me happy and I don’t want to make her uncomfortable. It’s clear that she’s very intimidated by my grandmother.
She helps me out of the pale pink gown, and hangs it up while I put on the red.
As I turn around, she sucks in her breath. “Miss Price, you look stunning.”
And I do. I examine myself in the mirror in surprise, because there is a stranger looking back. A woman with perfect curves and flushed cheeks, sparkling eyes and a stunning gown. The gown is strapless and although the top is just a smidgeon big, everywhere else hugs me just exactly right.
I am a woman in this dress.
If Dare could see me in this dress….
He has to see me in this dress.
“I wouldn’t have thought the color would work with your hair,” Ginger tells me. “But it’s perfect.”
“Can I have this one?” I ask hopefully, and Ginger nods.
“Of course. We’ll create something new for Miss Aimes. This gown was clearly meant for you. We’ll take in the bust about a half-inch, and it will fit you like a glove.”
We pick out shoes and jewelry, and Finn is waiting for me in the car.
“I like being fancy,” he decides, and he says it in a British accent. I giggle and start to reply, but I see something that gives me pause, a little café on a corner.
A dark-haired man sits in the café window.