by Jen Calonita
Mira and her mom looked at each other in the rearview mirror. Mira actually felt bad for her mom. In her own way, she was trying to relate to Izzie. Her mother spoke two languages: politician’s wife, which included her charity work, and professional shopper. Izzie spoke neither.
“Once you get to Christoff’s and see how incredible the clothes are, you won’t be able to say no,” Mira piped up. “No one knows her Vera from her Stella better than my mom.” Her mother smiled.
“I forgot to tell you, girls,” Mira’s mom said. “Lucas called earlier and told me your father—uncle,” she added quickly, “will be able to make the regatta festivities tomorrow night, so he’ll want to pull us aside for Isabelle’s first photo op. He also wants us to appear at the race on Saturday.”
“Mom,” Mira groaned. “I have plans. I haven’t seen my friends all week!” Because of Izzie duty, she wanted to add.
Her mom sighed. “Maybe I can get away with just taking Connor, but remember, Mirabelle, when your dad wins this candidacy, we are going to have to do a lot more public appearances. What about you, Isabelle? Big plans Saturday?”
“I was hoping I could see my grandmother,” Izzie said.
“Oh, well, yes, I’m sure I could have a car arrange to take you there.” Mira’s mom sounded uncomfortable.
“Hayden offered to drive me,” Izzie told her. “I wanted to stop by my house while we’re out that way, pick up a few things, and show Hayden the boardwalk.”
“How about we send someone to get the stuff for you?” Mira’s mom suggested. “You can make me a list, okay?” Her chipper voice returned. “And we’ll get a car for you so you can visit your grandmother. Hayden has to go to the race, since he works for your uncle.”
“Okay.” Mira heard the disappointment in Izzie’s voice.
Her mom had never come out and said it, but Mira knew she was just as freaked out by the fact that Izzie was from Harborside as everyone else was. (She was just too much of a lady to admit it.) Izzie was still the topic du jour—as long as she wasn’t in earshot—among Mira’s friends. They wanted to know what Izzie was really like. Did she own a knife? Was she rough and rude? One even asked if Mira hid her Pandora bracelet at night. (Then she immediately took the comment back.) Mira knew they were being extreme, but this was how her friends were. They broke girls down into two categories: those who could afford Louis (Vuitton—no last name needed) and those who could not. Those whose parents had their names on building plaques and those who were on scholarship at EP. “If she thinks she’s one of us now that she is becoming a Monroe, she’s mistaken,” Savannah had hissed when no one but their core group was around to hear it. In public, Mira’s friends were nothing but sweet and welcoming to Izzie. But Mira knew what they were really thinking and she felt a twinge bad about how they’d never accept Izzie. Mira wasn’t sure if she ever could, either. She wanted to try, but how could you relate to someone so completely different from yourself?
Ten minutes later, they had arrived at Christoff’s and were on their way to the formal-wear department. Izzie looked nervous about fanning out to hunt for the perfect gown. Mira was glad she’d changed out of her uniform and into a black tank and a tiered taupe skirt. Both were easy to pull on and off. She knew they weren’t technically shopping for her, but her mom would never say no if she found something incredible. There were so many dresses that had come out since Mira was there a few weeks ago that she began piling ones she liked in her arms before she remembered they were looking for Izzie. That’s when she spotted a silk organza gown with a black sash and metal trim. If Izzie was willing to go funky, this could be to die for.
“Izzie, you have to see this!” Mira carried the dress as carefully as she would a baby. “Isn’t it incredible? Look at the way the metal trim pulls the whole look together, and the raw silk flowers with the tiny pulls at the end. Isn’t that incredible?” Mira couldn’t help sounding excited. It was like a piece of art as far as she was concerned. She eyed her cousin hopefully. One sip of high fashion and Izzie would be hooked.
“That came in this week,” said a Christoff’s attendant, appearing out of nowhere. She smiled as she gave the group the classic once-over. Mira always joked you had to get dressed before you went to buy a dress at Christoff’s. Obviously, her mom felt uncomfortable passing along that pearl of wisdom to Izzie, who was in jean cutoffs and a tank. “Isn’t it divine?” said the saleswoman, touching the sash. “The bodice has boning, and the metallic fibers completely overlap, giving the skirt a full feel.”
Izzie looked at the price tag. “Does that say seven hundred and ninety-eight dollars?”
“Yes. It’s a Tadashi Shoji dress,” the woman said by way of explanation. “It’s imported.”
“It’s stunning is what it is,” Mira’s mom said, shifting her weight to hold all the dresses in her arms. Izzie still had none. “My niece just moved in with us, and we want her to shine at her first event. We’re looking for something special. This dress could be it.”
“Mrs. Monroe, right?” The saleswoman looked at Izzie. “Yes, I think I saw that story on TV.” She extended her slender hand. “My name is Catherine. I’d be happy to help you today.”
“Izzie, you have to try this dress on,” Mira’s mom insisted, making no mention of the TV comment. It was a sore subject with her. She didn’t talk to Mira’s dad for two days after Good Morning America aired its piece.
“No,” Izzie shook her head, like she was being force-fed fashion. “It’s a lot of money.”
“Try it.” Mira’s mom nudged Izzie. “Mira’s right. It would look perfect on you.”
“I’m sure I have your size. You’re a six, right?” Catherine asked.
“I guess.” Izzie pressed her hands to her legs, leaving white marks on her knees. “Sometimes I can do a four, or I can wear an eight if I take it in,” she added. The Harborside Army/Navy Store was limited on sizes and Izzie usually took what she could get.
Catherine looked a little flustered. “Let’s start with a six, then.”
“Thank you,” Mira’s mom said, and put her arm around Izzie. “Let’s get you in a fitting room!” As they reached the dressing area, they heard a gasp.
“Maureen, is that you?” Vivian Ingram, Savannah’s mom, was sitting on a round ottoman near one of the mirrors. She had one hand on her cell and the other holding her latte. Mira felt the color drain from her face. Savannah must be with her, and Mira hadn’t said where she was going.
Mrs. Ingram stood and kissed Mira’s mom on the cheek. “How are you? I just got back from Hilton Head last night, which is why I missed our meeting on Monday, but I heard all about your new houseguest!” She gave Mira’s mom a look of pity. “How are you holding up, honey?”
“I want you to meet our niece, Isabelle,” Mira’s mom said, pulling Izzie toward her. “We’re buying her a dress for the regatta cocktail party. It’s her first event in Emerald Cove.”
“Isabelle, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Savannah’s mom extended her hand as she gave her a once-over. “I’m Vivian Ingram, Savannah’s mother. I’ve heard so much about you from my daughter.” Mira knew what that meant. Mrs. Ingram shook Izzie’s hand limply before turning her attention to Mira. “And you! Congratulations are in order, I hear. Savannah told me you two are cochairing the Butterflies this year. They need these two, don’t they, Maureen?”
“Absolutely,” Mira’s mom agreed. “They run things so differently from when we were Social Butterflies. The same events over and over! The Butterflies have always been known for reinventing things….”
To Mira’s horror, instead of waiting patiently for the conversation to end, Izzie started walking around. While Mrs. Ingram and her mom talked about the country club’s proposal for a new playground and Main Street’s new traffic pattern, Mira watched Izzie sort through a rack of gowns. She pulled out the same navy gown twice before putting it back on the rack. Then she wandered over to the long jewelry case they kept in the fitting room area. The best
part about shopping at Christoff’s was that the salespeople would bring over pricey shoes and jewelry to try on with your evening wear. But before Mira could stop her, Izzie pulled open the drawer herself and pulled out a long strand of pink pearls, holding them up in the bright fitting room light.
“Miss!” Catherine rushed over, and Mira’s mom and Mrs. Ingram’s conversation ground to a halt. “Excuse me, miss!” she said anxiously, but Izzie didn’t know Catherine was talking to her till she gently took the pearls out of her hands. “You can’t just open the jewelry cabinet on your own. These pearls are worth two thousand dollars!”
“Whoa, you should have a security tag on that!” Izzie said. No one laughed. “Sorry. I didn’t realize that cabinet was off-limits.”
“Where is my key?” the saleswoman asked, looking at the glass cabinet before feeling her own suit pockets. “I thought this cabinet was locked.”
Without meaning to, Mira noticed all eyes turned to Izzie, including her own.
The saleswoman’s eyes focused on something near Izzie’s right foot. She reached down and grabbed a silver key. “There it is! I wonder how that got there.”
It was official. Mira was never going to be able to show her face at Christoff’s again.
“Isabelle? Why don’t you try on your dresses now.” Mira’s mom pushed her toward the fitting rooms. “Catherine? What room are they in again?”
Who opens jewelry cabinets without asking? Mira thought. She knew Izzie wasn’t trying to steal the pearls, but Mrs. Ingram didn’t know that. Her eyes were practically shooting lasers into the back of Izzie’s head. By tomorrow morning, everyone at school would have heard this story. Mira was so mortified she didn’t even want to try on dresses anymore.
“Maureen,” Mira heard Mrs. Ingram start to say, “I can’t believe—”
“How was the rest of your summer, Vivian?” Mira’s mom bypassed the faux pas and slipped back into the old conversation comfortably. “I’m glad our charity season is starting up again, aren’t you? I have so many thoughts for Emerald Cove Greeters.”
“I heard Bill is taking a hard look at the state restoration project,” Mrs. Ingram said, forgetting the pearls for the moment, too. “Holden can’t wait to get that off the ground and…”
The fitting room door in front of Mira opened, and Savannah emerged, holding up the bottom of a slightly long gown. With her blond hair and tan skin, the two-toned cream-and-tan dress looked incredible on her. “Hi, girls,” Savannah said pleasantly, even as she gave Izzie a sharp look. “Doing some shopping? Mira, why didn’t you tell me you were hanging out with Izzie?”
Mira’s face burned. “It was last minute. My mom wanted me to help Izzie find a dress for the regatta cocktail party.”
“Your first designer dress!” Savannah said, her voice almost mocking. “So exciting!”
Izzie smiled thinly. “I’m going to go try these on.”
“Have fun!” Savannah said as Izzie shut the fitting room door behind her. Savannah rolled her eyes at Mira. “I hope she knows to leave her underwear on when she tries on those dresses. Otherwise they’ll have to burn the ones she doesn’t buy.” Mira clutched her dresses tighter. Sometimes Savannah could be downright cruel. Savannah linked arms with her. “I forgive you for ditching me now that you’re here anyway. So, shopping guru, tell me: What do you think? Isn’t this dress divine? Brayden is going to die when he sees me.” Mira noticed half a dozen designer gowns in every color and style peeking out from the fitting room, waiting for their turn to shine on Savannah’s slender frame.
Mira watched her give a little spin in front of a small mirror. “Vanna, it’s gorgeous.”
Savannah admired her own reflection. “Then it’s settled. I’m taking it. The others, too. One of these might make the perfect sweet-sixteen dress.”
“I thought you already had one of those,” Mira reminded her. Actually, Savannah already had several.
“I’m not a hundred percent decided.” She spun around again. “This could be a winner, and if it’s not, who cares? It will like life in my closet. I can’t let Daddy’s credit card go to waste.”
Mira’s parents were cool about letting her get whatever she wanted, too, but she never took total advantage. After trying on several dresses herself, she decided to take the gray chiffon one that made her feel like she belonged on a red carpet. She could wear it to the cocktail party tomorrow night.
“What’s the verdict, ladies?” Mira’s mom strode toward her and Savannah with Mrs. Ingram. “Vivian and I were thinking we could have dinner together before heading home.”
Savannah clutched her nonexistent stomach. “Nothing for me. I need to fit into this dress tomorrow night.”
“I’m sure they have salad,” Mrs. Ingram said. “Do you want to change so we can go?”
“Where’s Isabelle?” Mira’s mom asked. “She’s been so quiet I forgot she was here.”
“I didn’t,” Savannah casually whispered to Mira.
“I didn’t see her leave,” Mira said, feeling bad for completely abandoning her cousin. She had been so immersed in her and Savannah’s dresses that she hadn’t checked on her once.
“Isabelle?” Mira’s mom tried again.
A door at the end of the row creaked open, and Izzie emerged in the floor-length navy dress Mira had seen her admiring earlier. The silk strapless gown fit her perfectly, falling to the floor in a cascade of layers. Mira felt her jaw go slack. Who knew Izzie had those curves? She was a knockout.
“Isabelle, you look stunning,” Mira’s mom said, gaping. “Doesn’t she look stunning?”
Mrs. Ingram’s and Savannah’s lips were pursed shut, but Savannah couldn’t take her eyes off her.
“You have to wear that dress to the party,” Mira said without thinking, and Savannah gave her a sharp look.
Izzie glanced in the mirror. “You really think so?” Mira could see the corners of her mouth turn upward. It was more than okay, even if she wouldn’t admit it. “It’s on sale for a hundred and fifty dollars. Is that okay?” she asked Mira’s mom as if it was out of the question. “It has a small lipstick stain, so maybe they’ll take more off.”
“It has a stain?” Savannah repeated, looking from Izzie back to Mira. “Make them bring you a new gown!”
“It’s on clearance. There aren’t any more,” Catherine said, walking up behind them. Savannah resisted the urge to smirk. “And we don’t usually do discounts.”
“I’m sure we can, uh, talk to the manager about getting a discount if this is the last dress. Right, Catherine?” Mira’s mom said slowly. Discounts were something new to her. “It really suits you, but you’re going to need more than one dress this season. Are you sure you don’t want the Tadashi Shoji as well?”
Izzie shot both girls a look. “I don’t need a thousand-dollar dress. I love this one, and if I need more, I’m sure we can find others below the two-hundred-dollar mark. It seems insane to spend more than that on one dress.”
“That’s very sensible, Isabelle,” Mira’s mom agreed, as if it were a foreign concept. She looked proudly at her niece.
“Excellent bargain hunter you have here, Maureen,” Mrs. Ingram said.
Mira’s mom nodded. “You girls change, and we’ll meet you by the registers.”
Mira’s face flamed as she stared at her own dress. It cost over a thousand dollars. Savannah’s loot was three times that. That comment was definitely meant for them. She looked at Savannah. Mira thought she was going to start hurling hangers at Izzie like swords.
Izzie didn’t say anything, but Mira caught the small smile creep onto her face before the door shut. Savannah saw it, too.
Mira turned to gauge Savannah’s reaction. Her best friend hated nothing more than being burned—especially in public. “Vanna, I…”
“Forget it. It’s not your fault.” Savannah put her arm around Mira and walked her back to her fitting room. “It’s hers. That little street urchin,” she whispered, “needs to be shown her p
lace.”
Ten
Izzie wondered if someone else’s reflection was staring back at her. How else could she explain the girl in the mirror wearing the expensive fairy-tale gown?
Isabelle Scott did not own eight-hundred-dollar dresses. She didn’t even own eight-hundred-dollar dresses marked down to a hundred and twenty-five dollars and fifty cents thanks to a lipstick stain. She loved this dress and couldn’t believe her aunt expected her to only wear it once. (Apparently, wearing the same dress twice in a season was frowned upon in EC.)
How could she wear a dress like this only one time? Look how it swayed when she moved! She’d sleep in this dress if she could. Izzie never considered herself a dress kind of girl—and certainly not a heels girl—but now that she had both on, she had to admit her aunt was right: Good clothes made a person feel different. She could almost sense her posture improving and her confidence returning. Emerald Cove was nothing like Harborside, but maybe in a dress that made a person feel like Cinderella, she could make things work.
But she couldn’t forget what had happened to Cinderella when the clock struck midnight. The gown may have made her look like a born and bred Emerald Cove kid, but inside, she still felt twisted like a pretzel. One day she felt like she was getting the hang of things, and the next she wanted to take the first bus back to Harborside. At least once a day she asked herself the same question. What am I doing here? she wondered again as she looked around her new room.
Her aunt had left catalogs on her bed earlier in the week with a note: We want you to make your room your own! Just circle whatever you like! She’d never had a room makeover before. Her furniture at Grams’s was her mom’s when she was a kid and it had definitely seen better days. But just when she started getting excited, that nagging guilt would return, especially when she flipped through the catalog and saw the prices. Seventy dollars for a lamp base? Five hundred dollars for an area rug? She didn’t have the heart to circle a thing. How could she ask her aunt and uncle to drop that kind of money on her when they’d done so much already? In one week, she had gotten a computer, a new phone, a bedroom set, and a full wardrobe. She’d never spent this much on clothes. Ever.
