Scarlett Fever

by Maureen Johnson

  “Yeah, but…” Scarlett hated doing this to Lola, but it had to be said. “He hasn’t felt it yet. He still has lots of nice stuff. He hasn’t been kicked out of school yet. So, he can say now that he’s fine with it, but how is that really going to be for him, when he has no money?”

  “I know,” Lola said. “I thought about that. The worst part wouldn’t be the money, but his parents rejecting us. He feels rejected a lot. Like by Spencer. And, well, kind of by you. You don’t get it, Scarlett. His family is a mess. He’s always been jealous of us. We all get along, more or less. We all like each other. He’s never had that. He’d love to be a part of it, but no one will let him in. Except Marlene, and I think she just likes the boat.”

  This was all too big for Scarlett. They sat in silence for a moment, watching the squirrels run by, and the owners getting tugged along by their dogs, and the nannies pushing the strollers. It was getting cold. Scarlett shivered. She should have been wearing her coat, but she had gone out in a thin jacket. Cold and confused.

  “So what do I do?” Lola asked. “Do I do what Chip wants? If I refuse to sign, everyone’s just going to think I want money. Or do I just go and sign it? Chip will be mad, but at least everyone else will be happy, and things might actually go back to something like normal. I don’t know what to do.”

  “What’s more important?” Scarlett heard herself say. “Taking this stand that just makes you look like you’re after money, or proving that you’re not?”

  “I want to prove that I’m not,” Lola said.

  “So go and sign the paper.”

  “He’d be really upset, Scarlett.”

  “Do you have to tell him?” Scarlett asked. “You could sign and you could tell them not to tell Chip. That way, they see you don’t care about money, and Chip thinks they just changed their minds.” Lola cocked her head. Obviously, this option had not occurred to her. Lola was just too fundamentally and plainly honest. Unlike Scarlett, apparently.

  “You mean lie to him?” Lola asked.

  “No, not lie. Just don’t tell…” Scarlett stopped herself. She had been down this road before and knew better. “Yes, lie.”

  “But this is…the foundation of our marriage.”

  “No it isn’t. It’s something dumb the Sutcliffes are doing, and Chip is just mad. Tell him later, when everything has calmed down. Everyone is just freaking out right now. Someone…has to be calm.”

  She had no idea what she was saying now. Words were just coming out of her mouth. But Lola seemed interested in the words. She was nodding.

  “You’re right,” she said. “Everyone’s too upset right now. Someone has to do something sensible. Chip probably won’t even care in a few months. I could just go and sign the paper, and everyone would calm down.”

  “If you want,” Scarlett said, backtracking a little. “I mean, I have no idea about any of this. I’m an idiot.”

  The idea, now seeded, had quickly taken root in Lola’s mind.

  “I have to show them that I’m not after the money,” she said, mostly to herself. “Chip needs to go back to school. You’re right…I didn’t even think of it, but you’re right.”

  The more she was told that she was right, the more Scarlett wanted to distance herself from the idea. All she’d really said was, “People are crazy. Why don’t you lie to them?”

  “I need to prove it to everyone,” Lola said, turning to look at Scarlett straight on. “Especially you. This isn’t about money. You’re the only one who knows the specifics, but…I’m glad you know.”

  She took Scarlett’s hand and squeezed it. “Do you hate me?” she asked.

  “What? No. I…No.”

  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.

  “It’s awful. And it’s going to cost about ten thousand dollars.”

  On hearing that figure, Scarlett was struck silent. Lola went through the bags, trying to calm herself down.

  “This isn’t a party for me,” Lola said. “It’s a party for them to show off and make it all official. All I have to do is be gracious. I picked these clothes out, though. Now look at this. It’s for you.”

  She went over to one of the garment bags and unzipped it, revealing a dress. Even at a first glance, it was clear that it was perfect for Scarlett. It was midnight blue silk, with a fitted bodice and a full skirt, with a wide swath of steel-silver silk at the waist that wrapped around and tied at the front. At the very bottom, there was a fringe of silvery-gray tulle.

  “It’s very Grace Kelly. And it will be amazing with your hair. And here are the shoes…and the purse…” Lola was already fishing around in a bag, producing silver shoes and a bag. “Now, if you don’t like this, it can go back, but I think you will…or I hope you will…and I have a seamstress who can do all alterations in twenty-four hours, and you don’t even have to go anywhere, she’ll come here, but I know your size so this should fit, but…”

  “It’s amazing,” Scarlett said.

  “And this is to go with it,” she said, handing Scarlett a small blue jewelry box from a shop on Madison Avenue that she had passed a million times but never been in. Scarlett took the box a bit warily and opened it. Inside, there was a heart-shaped platinum necklace set with a large blue stone.

  “It’s a sapphire,” Lola said. “Take it out, look at it in the light. Go on!”

  The chain of the necklace was very delicate, so Scarlett carefully removed it from the small velvet bindings that kept it in place. She held the heart up to the window, allowing the light to shine through it.

  “Isn’t it pretty?” Lola asked eagerly. “I thought you would love it. If you don’t, they have loads of others, but I thought…”

  “How much did this cost?” Scarlett asked.

  “Don’t worry about that. Do you like it?”

  “Yeah, but…I thought you just had a little allowance…”

  “This is different. Try on the dress! Try it on!”

  Lola pulled a tiny shopping bag out of a larger one, and then extracted from that a pink tissue-wrapped bundle.

  “New bra to go with it,” she said, unrolling the paper.

  Scarlett accepted the bra and changed into it, while Lola lifted the dress off its hanger. She lowered it down over Scarlett’s head, trapping her in a world of blue satin with occasional scraps of tulle. Lola tugged it down firmly, adjusting it over her hips, tugging at the back, zipping and hooking everything into place.

  Scarlett looked in the slightly dusty mirror. For a moment, she tried to fight loving the dress, but it was simply impossible. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, and she could barely believe it was hers. This is what it meant for something to fit well. This is what people meant by real artistry in clothing. This was the feeling of silk nestled against her skin, forming a shape around her that was graceful and elegant, making her into a new kind of person—a beautiful person. A more confident person. A more together person. A…

  A richer person.

  “Oh my God, Scarlett,” Lola said, putting her hand over her mouth. “I knew it would be good on you but…oh my God. You’re so beautiful.”

  Scarlett smoothed her hands over the fabric of the skirt.

  “I hope they all turn out this good!” Lola squealed. She fussed around Scarlett for a moment, tugging material this way and that, feeling around the waist, examining the hemline from the floor, checking the shoulders, and finally studying the strain of the material around the chest.

  “You’re bustier than I realized,” Lola said, checking to see if there was any material to spare. “We’re going to have to have this let out a little. But that’s an easy fix. This is the only thing we need to do for yours.”

  She got out a big notebook covered in light blue leather, flipped through a few pages of scrawled notes and swatches of fabric, and wrote something down.

  “It’s just a party,” she said, mostly to herself. “It’s just a party.”

  “You obviously don’t want the party,” Scarlett said. “So why don’t you just tell them no?”

  Lola looked up from the book and sighed.

  “Mom and Dad said the same thing, but…the Sutcliffes have to make a statement in order to be happy. They have to spend a bunch of money and have the right people see that Chip didn’t just run off with his girlfriend, that it’s all approved of and correct. It has to look right. It’s like a show, and I just have to be in it, and then we’ll have peace.”

  “What makes you think they’ll be any different after the party?”

  That, Lola was not prepared to answer. She closed the book decisively and reached for another bag.

  “Now,” she said. “Where’s Spencer? I have to see him in this suit. I’m almost positive this will be a great fit. I mean, I know his general size and his pants measurements were up on eBay anyway. Look!”

  She unzippered another Bergdorf bag. There was a sharp, gray pin-striped suit inside.

  “And these go with it,” she said, indicating various bags. “Shirt, shoes, cuff links. It’s the perfect suit. I mean, if you were going to have one suit in your whole life, this should be that suit. And he can carry a suit so well, you know, because he’s got the height going for him. We might have to take the trousers up a half inch or so, and I had to guess on the shirt since he has long arms, so I just bought three and we’ll see which one works.”

  “I don’t think he’s here,” Scarlett said.

  “Okay, well…let’s show Marlene her dress!”

  The clothes seemed to make Lola manic—giving her focus, something she could understand. Something she could share. She plucked up Marlene’s garment bag and hurried down the hall, forgetting that Marlene still wasn’t very happy with her.

  Marlene was on her bed, yet another biography of Princess Diana open in front of her, but it didn’t seem like she was reading.

  “You really like Princess Diana,” Scarlett said.

  Marlene gave Scarlett a look that suggested that another pointless conversational remark about Princess Diana might result in a Princess Diana biography making contact with her face. At least she was acting kind of normal.

  “I got you a dress,” Lola said.

  “I don’t care.”

  Lola ignored this and hung the bag on the closet door. She unzipped it, revealing what looked like a rose-colored ballerina outfit. Marlene stared at it, then turned right back to her book.

  “Well?” Lola said hopefully.

  “Looks expensive,” she said. “I guess you’re rich now.”

  They left her alone. Lola insisted on waiting for Spencer to get home, and got a similar reaction—he stared at the suit on his bed, asked who died, and shut his door. Lola never once stopped smiling.

  “Tomorrow,” Lola said as she prepared to go. “I scheduled your fitting with the seamstress at four. And get Spencer to try on his suit, please? You’re the only one on my side.”

  She reached out and grabbed Scarlett’s hand for support.

  “Sure,” Scarlett said. “I’ll try.”

  Demo version limitation

  PARTY AT POINT MANHATTAN

  Scarlett lay on her bed, staring at the yellowing spot on the ceiling that seemed like it was m
ore over her bed than it ever was Lola’s. She could move to Lola’s bed now, if she wanted. Get out from under the spot.

  No. It would always be Lola’s bed. Her spot was here, by the window. That was the way the world was, and how it should remain.

  Next door, someone was taking a long shower. Lola would be here soon to dress. She was out at a salon getting her hair, nails, and makeup done. Scarlett had been offered an invitation—a whole morning at one of the nicest spas in town, eating mini brownies and having people apply things to her. She had turned it down to wallow in her bed and stare at the spot on the ceiling.

  It occurred to her that she should probably go down the hall and make sure Marlene was dressed. She knew her mom would have already done this, but it seemed big sisterly, and now she was kind of the big sister of the house. That was an unwelcome promotion, a fancy new title with no benefits, just more work.

  Marlene was sitting on her bed. She had already stuffed herself into her dress, even though they had about two hours before they had to go. She was stabbing at her hair with a brush.

  “It’s pretty,” Scarlett said.

  It was very pretty. It also made Marlene look very demure, which she probably hated. Ideally, Marlene probably wanted an outfit that had a special holder for a gun.

  “It itches” was all she said.

  “Do you need help?”

  “Does it look it?”

  “With your hair?” Scarlett countered.

  “No.”

  Scarlett returned to the Orchid Suite, noticing that the bathroom was now free. Spencer must have been getting ready. Now it was her turn. Mercifully, there was some hot water left for her, and she used it all, until it ran to freezing, probably a half hour. When she returned to her room wrapped in a huge towel, Lola was there. Even on the worst of days, Lola looked better than 90 percent of the population. Today, her hair was exquisite, but her makeup was too heavy, and it made her look much older than she was. She was removing it with a cloth. Lola had been one of the best makeup artists at Henri Bendel. Scarlett was surprised she’d let anyone else touch her face.