by Karen Booth
“Is that your dress for tonight?” Mindy asked, pointing to the garment bag Emma was still toting.
“Oh. Uh. Yes.”
“Sophie and I would like to see it, please. No more keeping it a secret.”
Emma walked over to Sophie’s coat tree and hung up the dress, unzipping it from its bag. She pressed her lips together tightly, preparing herself for what these two might say. Anything was fair game. They worked in an industry built on first impressions and style, and she wasn’t doing great on either front. But, and this was a big but, Sophie and Mindy had grown up in a household where money was never an issue, where they were encouraged to dress in any way they saw fit. Emma, however, had grown up buying her clothes at discount stores, and had been preached the value of blending in.
“Well?” Emma stood a little straighter, holding the dress up and steeling herself for the onslaught.
“No way,” Mindy said. “It’s terrible.”
Sophie shot Mindy a look and got up from her desk again, rushing over to where Emma was standing. “Oh, I don’t know. Gray is a hot color this season.” She took the hem of the dress in her hand. “I think the problem is that this isn’t really an evening dress. And it’s not very fun. This is a fun night. It’s a night for standing out.”
Emma had been afraid of that. “It’s not my fault that I’m not up to speed on the fashion world. Up until three months ago, I was working in an accountant’s office and had no money.”
“You know you can’t tell anyone about that,” Sophie said, holding her finger to her lips.
Oh, right. The family fable. Soon after Emma’s inheritance was announced, Mindy and Sophie had concocted a story to explain Emma’s absence from the public lives of the Eden family. They owned up to the poor behavior of their father, but not the fact that the truth had been hidden from Emma for her entire life and she’d lived with very little money. They felt it might reflect badly on their grandmother, and in turn, the store. Emma was to tell everyone that she’d spent her formative years with a private tutor in France, then moved back to the States to quietly pursue her education in finance. It wasn’t that far from the truth, except that she’d lived in New Jersey and been home-schooled. Emma would have fought the lie, but it made it easier to exist in this world of money and power. It was a shred of a pedigree, and she’d take what she could get.
“Don’t worry. I won’t say anything.”
“Anyway, that dress is a snooze fest. You need to find something else.” Mindy crossed her legs and bobbed her foot impatiently.
“I’ll go down to jewelry and find a necklace to brighten it up,” Emma said.
Sophie scrunched up her face. “I’m not sure that will be enough.”
Emma wasn’t going to stand here and endure their criticism. She did not want to appear weak or foolish in front of her half sisters. She still wasn’t sure they had her best interests in mind. “I’ll pick out a different dress then. Surely we have something in the store that will work.” Head held high, Emma marched out into the hall, but she felt anything but confident. There was too much sheer embarrassment coursing through her veins.
She darted into the safety of her office and flipped on the light. This had been her grandmother’s office when she was still alive. Every time Emma walked into this room, she was reminded of what might have been. What if the family secret had come out when she was a little girl? She would have had a chance to know her grandmother. She might have known her father. She might have been a completely different person, the sort of woman who had no problem picking the right dress for an event like tonight. But no, all of that had slipped between Emma’s fingers and she hadn’t even known it was there.
Sophie appeared in the office doorway. “May I come in?”
“I don’t want to turn this into a big thing, okay? I’ll figure it out.” Emma sought the comfort of the chair behind her desk, putting a big piece of furniture between herself and her half sister.
“I know that. But why don’t you let me come with you?”
“I’m a grown woman. I can pick out my clothes.” Emma didn’t want to sound defensive. The truth was that she needed help. She at least needed someone to tell her she didn’t look ridiculous.
Sophie took a seat in an available chair. “You know, the first time our grandmother took me to this event, I was a wreck. I had no clue what to wear. I really needed Gram to point me in the right direction.”
“Well, she’s not around to help me, is she?” Emma hated that tone in her voice, but it came from a very deep place. She’d been robbed of the relationship with her family.
“She’s not. And I’m sorry about that. But I’d like to help. I’ve been to this event four times now. I can help you find the perfect dress.”
Emma didn’t want to admit it, but this was what she’d been waiting for—the smallest of opportunities. A door opened. Plus, the clock was ticking. “I don’t know when I’ll have time. My schedule is hell, and I hate doing things at the last minute. I’m a planner. I don’t like surprises.”
Sophie stood. “Don’t worry about that. I need to run down to the designer department this morning, anyway. I’ll find a few things and you can pick from those. Sound good?”
“Just don’t go too overboard, okay? I’m not a showy person.”
“You don’t have to be showy to be a showstopper.” Sophie looked at her phone, which she always had in hand. “Meet me in the private fitting room in two hours.”
Emma didn’t have a great feeling about this, but what choice did she have? She couldn’t go to this event looking as if she didn’t belong. She desperately wanted to stop being the proverbial fish out of water. “I’ll be there.”
Two
After a morning of crunching numbers, Emma found herself with Sophie in the private fitting room reserved for Eden’s most important customers. Emma had never tried clothes on in such a lavish setting. The room not only had a lovely sitting area with elegant upholstered slipper chairs in silvery velvet, it had especially flattering lighting, and came with a valet who took drink orders. For Eden’s wealthiest and most influential clients, this was their shopping experience—an oasis tucked away in a quiet corner of an otherwise bustling department store.
The valet appeared with two flutes of champagne.
“Really?” Emma asked, when Sophie offered her a glass. “It’s the middle of the day.”
“I’m hoping we’ll have a reason to toast and celebrate. I wanted to ask if you’ll be one of my bridesmaids.”
Emma could hardly believe what she was hearing. “Really?” As soon as she’d said it, she realized how inappropriate and knee-jerk her response was. If she didn’t want to feel like an outsider in this family, she had to stop assuming that role. “I mean, yes. Of course. I would love it. Such an honor.”
Sophie grinned and held out her glass. Emma clinked it with hers. “Perfect. I still need to figure out who’s designing the dresses, but I’ll let you know.”
Emma was in a state of delight and shock. Custom designed bridesmaids’ dresses? “Sounds wonderful.”
Sophie sank down onto one of the chairs, her skirt billowing in a poof. “It’s funny, but I think of Gram every time I drink champagne.”
“What was she like?” Emma sat in the chair opposite and took a small sip. It was so delicious. The bubbles tickled her nose.
“Gram was amazing. My idol, really. I loved her to pieces. But she rubbed some people the wrong way. She could be a ruthless businesswoman.”
Emma pushed back any sadness over not having known her grandmother. “All women have to be ruthless at some point, don’t they?”
Sophie eagerly nodded. “If they want to be a success, yes.”
“Speaking of which, I happened to notice that our exclusive arrangement with Nora Bradford still hasn’t been renewed.”
Sophie frowned. “I know.
They’re dragging their feet. You know, we lost two of our exclusive designers in late December, right before you started. If we lose Nora, it would be devastating.”
“Why do you think this is happening?”
“People aren’t treating us the way they did when Gram was in charge.”
Emma took another sip. “Sounds like we need to get a few things in line.”
“I’m working on it. I’ll need your help at some point. For now, I’m hoping the dress I picked for tonight might help. It’s in the fitting room.”
“Dress? Singular?”
“I know I said I’d give you some choices, but this one is perfect. It just came in this morning. It’s one of our Nora Bradford exclusives.” Sophie shooed her into the fitting room. “Go on. Go look.”
Emma ducked inside the dressing area. On the hook was a dress she wouldn’t have dared to choose. Ice blue, strapless and sparkly and daring. It was so far outside her comfort zone it was in a different zip code. And maybe that was exactly what she needed.
Wasting no time, she shed her work clothes and slipped into the garment. “Can you help with the zipper?” she called.
Sophie poked her head inside and her face lit up. “That’s it. That’s the dress. It’s even better than I imagined. Now suck in your breath.”
With a quick zip, Emma was squeezed in. She looked down at herself. “I don’t know. I’ve never worn a strapless dress before and there’s all this fabric.” She fussed with the strips of pale blue organza that made up the skirt. If she stood still, her legs were hidden, but the second she moved, the strips swished open like streamers in the breeze. “What if I trip? And I can barely breathe.” The bodice was holding her tight, all the way down to her hips.
“Oh, there is no breathing in a strapless dress. Not if you want it to stay up all night. And really, you look incredible. It’s perfect for your body. You look sexy and glamorous.”
“I do?” If it wasn’t for the freckles on her cheeks and the earrings she wore every day, Emma wouldn’t have even known it was her.
“Yes. And the best part is I’ve instructed the department manager to keep the rest of the inventory off the showroom floor until tomorrow morning. You’ll be the only one at Empire State wearing this.”
Emma studied herself in the mirror, dropping her head to the side and swishing the skirt. The dress looked like magic. Maybe this really was the right choice. “Okay. This is the one.”
Sophie grinned with pride and clapped her hands on Emma’s shoulders. “I don’t want you to be nervous about tonight. You’ll be amazing. And I’ll be there the whole time, okay?”
Emma felt so much better than she had that morning. “Thank you for helping me. And thank you for asking me to be a bridesmaid. That means a lot to me.”
“Of course. You’re my sister. It only seems right that you’d be a part of my wedding.”
Emma had never felt so optimistic. Sophie was making such an effort to include her. Emma was starting to feel like a real part of the Eden clan, less like a person who was unwittingly plopped down in the middle of it. She would get what she’d missed out on during her twenty-seven years in the world—a close relationship with siblings, the camaraderie of an extended family. She felt sure of it now.
From the bench in the corner, Emma’s phone buzzed. “Oh, shoot. I have a call.” Back to reality.
“I’ll help you out of the dress. Then I need to get Lizzie to order me some lunch.”
Emma changed and raced upstairs. One of Eden’s personal shoppers steamed the gown and delivered it to her office, along with a pair of strappy silver Blahniks Sophie had picked out. The dress was the only thing Emma looked at as she finished up her call. The fabric, the style, the price tag—it all seemed unreal, as if it wasn’t meant for her.
Mindy appeared in Emma’s office doorway around three. “The hair and makeup people are here, but we have a problem. Sophie’s sick.”
“Is she okay?”
Mindy shook her head. “A stomach bug or something she ate. I sent her home. I don’t see any way she can come tonight. Looks like it’s just you and me.”
Great. The sister who hates me. Emma felt queasy herself. Her security blanket was gone. “Oh. Okay.”
“We need to leave right at five or we’ll get stuck in traffic forever. I’ll send in the hair and makeup people.”
Emma was now not only nervous, she was dreading tonight. Before she had time to think about it, a man and a woman invaded her office with brushes, hair clips, a curling iron, and every shade of lipstick and type of hair product you could imagine. They wheeled her across her office in her chair and parked her in front of a full-length mirror they’d brought.
The male stylist took her hair out of the ponytail and tutted. “I’m Anthony. This is going to take a while.”
The makeup artist at least offered a smile. “I’m Charity. It’s going to take me some time, too.”
“Oh. Okay. Well, I’m Emma.”
“We know,” they answered in unison.
Charity dug through a case of makeup, picking up tubes and examining the colors. “I’m going to cover your freckles, if that’s okay.” She pointed to Emma’s cheeks.
“I like them.”
Charity shook her head. “I don’t think they’ll photograph well. There will be paparazzi tonight. You want to look good.”
Emma hadn’t taken the time to think about the fate of her freckles, and definitely not photographers. “Do whatever you need to do.”
The duo went to work, tugging and dabbing, prodding and pulling, spraying and spritzing. Emma kept her eyes closed whenever possible. They were doing too many things that she would never do to herself.
“Voilà,” Anthony said a good forty-five minutes later. He was like Michelangelo presenting a masterpiece.
Emma opened her eyes and blinked several times. If it wasn’t for the same clothes she’d worn to work, she never would have known it was her. Her hair was tugged back in a dramatic updo, she had long false lashes and smoky eyes. She looked fantastic, practically ready for the cover of a magazine. So this was what it was like to be glamorous.
“Wow,” was all she could say.
“Emma, you are a stunning woman if you put some work into it,” Charity said.
Perhaps that was her problem. She hadn’t been trying hard enough. “Thank you so much. Both of you.”
“Call us anytime.”
Not wanting Mindy to be angry with her, Emma closed and locked her office door and dressed. She called in Lizzie to help with the zipper.
“You are so lucky,” Lizzie said, looking at Emma with eyes full of wistful envy. It was a bizarre feeling. Emma and Lizzie were more alike than she and Sophie or Mindy.
“Maybe we can figure out a way for you to come with us next year.”
“Really?”
Emma nodded. “In fact, I promise to do whatever I can to make it happen, okay?”
Lizzie grinned from ear to ear. “Wow. Something to look forward to.”
Mindy walked in wearing a supershort magenta dress with a plunging neckline and sky-high Christian Louboutins with the signature red bottoms. She surveyed Emma’s new look. “They did wonders. You hardly look like yourself at all.”
Gee, thanks. “You look great, too.”
Lizzie rushed out of the room when the reception phone started to ring.
“Hey, so, I need a favor from you tonight,” Mindy said, digging through one of her prized Hermès clutches. “I have a friend meeting me there, so I won’t be able to spend much time with you. But I don’t want you to tell Sophie.”
“Does this friend happen to be the guy that Sophie doesn’t like?”
Mindy pursed her lips. “His name is Sam, okay? He’s in town for a few days and I really want to see him. And yes, Sophie hates him. But that’s her problem, not mine.
It has something to do with her fiancé, Jake.”
Emma was tempted to ask what was in it for her to keep the secret but decided against it. She needed to forge a connection with Mindy, somehow. “Okay. My lips are zipped.”
“Awesome. I owe you one.”
Well, that was something. “No problem.”
Mindy’s phone beeped with a text. “My driver’s here.”
Downstairs, they climbed into the back of a black stretch SUV. As they whizzed through the city, Emma tried to ignore her nerves. She tried to ignore that little voice inside her head that said that every last person at this event was going to know she didn’t belong. There was only so much refinement she could fake. What if someone asked her where she went to school and she forgot the canned story Sophie and Mindy had cooked up about private school in France? What if someone asked about her family and she accidentally blurted the truth, that until three months ago, she was the deep dark family secret? Even worse, what if no one asked her anything at all?
As the driver pulled into the line of limousines and black town cars, Emma could see the paparazzi’s camera flashes popping like crazy. The red carpet. Emma’s stomach wobbled. She wasn’t practiced in the art of posing for cameras. She didn’t know how to hold her head at the right angle or slant her leg to make herself look skinny, or even how to properly plant her hand on her hip. This could be a disaster.
“Anything I need to know about this first part?” she asked Mindy.
Her half sister eyed herself in a compact mirror, them clamped it shut. “Follow my lead. You’ll be fine.”
Mindy climbed out of the car first and Emma followed. A woman with a clipboard was checking names, but she took one glance at Mindy and knew exactly who she was. “Mindy Eden. Nice to see you. Who do you have with you tonight?” the woman asked, her tone syrupy.
“My sister Emma.”
A deep crease formed between the woman’s eyes. “I thought your sister was Sophie.”
“Long story,” was all Mindy said, patting the woman on the shoulder and waving Emma ahead.
