The Cinderella Moment (8 page)

“I can’t,” said Angel firmly.

“But why?” cried Lily. “I thought you’d love to go to Paris.”

“Well, duh, of course I would. Just not like this.”

“But I’ve told you why I can’t go to Paris, and I
need
to go to London.”

“Well, maybe you can’t always have what you want.”

“But
why
?” demanded Lily. “Why won’t you do it? It would mean so much to me—to both of us.”

“It’s too big a risk.”

“There
is
no risk. I told you—no one will even know!”

“And what happens at the end of the two weeks?” demanded Angel. “Sooner or later, you’ll have to see your grandmother and then what? I’m pretty certain she’ll notice that you’re not me and then we’ll be in real trouble.”

“Not if I go to Paris at the end of the two weeks and explain. Even if the Comtesse
is
mad—she’ll be mad at
me
, not you. And by then you’ll be safely back in New York.”

Angel frowned. Did Lily really not get it? Did she
truly
not understand what she was asking? “You make it sound so easy,” she said. “But I know there’d be consequences. Maman might even lose her job.”

“As if I’d ever let that happen,” cried Lily. But even as she said it, Angel saw the flash of doubt in her face and knew she was thinking of Margot.

A chill ran down her spine at the thought of what Margot might do once Lily’s ploy was discovered. From Lily’s account of the Margot behind the mask, it would be just like her to exact revenge in some sweet, insidious way.

But Lily seemed oblivious to the risks. “Trust me, Angel. I
know
my plan will work. I’ve got it all worked out.”

Angel felt an unfamiliar anger. “I’m sure you have,” she snapped. “And I’ll bet it’s a great plan for
you
because I’ll be the one taking all the risks.”

“How can you say that?”

“Because it’s true,” said Angel, and before she could stop herself she spoke the thought that had been simmering in the back of her mind for weeks: “You’re spoiled, Lily, and so used to getting everything you want that sometimes you don’t think about others.”

Lily looked hurt, but Angel didn’t care. “I won’t do it, Lily. For once in your life, you can’t have what you want.”

Lily stood in silence, as a tear slid down her cheek. Angel knew she’d upset her, but she wasn’t going to apologize. Not yet, anyway.

Eventually Lily spoke. “But Angel,” she said, holding out her hand, pinky finger extended. “Friends?”

Angel shook her head as she opened the door. “Goodnight, Lily.”

Chapter Eight

It was two days before Angel saw Lily again. She missed her, but she was immersed in her sewing and happy to spend the hours alone in her room working on her ball gown. Sundays were when she missed Papa most. Those were the days she and Simone had always visited him and Angel often yearned for their quiet conversations and his way of making her feel like she could do anything. She'd always take her latest sketches to show him and he would carefully examine each one and listen to her ideas and encourage her to pursue her dreams.

Now, when Angel sewed she thought of Papa and those quiet afternoons and each stitch would feel like a tiny reminder of his belief in her.

***

Late on Sunday night there was a knock on Angel’s door.

She opened it to find Lily kneeling in the doorway.

“Peace offerings,” said Lily, holding up a fat paper bag.

“Get up,” said Angel, trying to look stern.

“Not until you've forgiven me.”

Angel put down her needle. “Forgiven you for what?”

Lily hung her head. “I was hateful and I’m sorry.” She peeked up at Angel through her lashes.

“Do you mean it?” demanded Angel.

Lily smiled. “Definitely. You were right, I am a bit spoiled sometimes and not
all
my plans work out.”

“I'm sorry, too. I didn’t mean all those things I said.”

“I know. That’s why I brought you these.” Lily stood up and held out the paper bag.

“You know my weakness,” said Angel, taking a chocolate.

“Well, I had to do something to make up. You
are
my best friend.” Lily hesitated and then said, “Which is why I have to warn you that I haven’t given up on my plan.”

Angel choked on the chocolate. Lily banged her on the back. “You know, you really shouldn’t get so worked up.”

Angel glared at her with streaming eyes.

From the moment they’d met, Lily had pushed, cajoled and persuaded Angel into joining her in countless crazy schemes. Admittedly, some of them had been fun—but not this one. This was an insane idea that meant only one thing—trouble.

“Don’t look at me like that,” begged Lily. “You just need to think about two weeks in Paris seeing fashion shows and going to the Louvre.”

“Which sounds great, so long as you leave out the bit about me pretending to be you,” said Angel, picking up her needle. “You can talk all you want, but you’ll never convince me to go to Paris in your place.”

Lily just smiled.

***

For the next week she came down to Angel’s room every evening, outlined her plan and explained how awesome it would be for them both. Angel sewed and listened, but wouldn’t change her mind.

On Wednesday night she went to see
Our Town
and was awestruck by Lily’s performance. She lit up the stage and Angel almost felt guilty for denying her the chance to go to the London Drama Academy.

Almost.

The school year finished and Angel retreated to her room to sew. She sewed all day and into the night and only went to bed when her eyes grew too tired. She wouldn’t risk a single stitch being anything less than her best.

Ten days later her ball gown was almost complete. She’d finished tambour beading the delicate stylized angel on the bodice and all she had left to sew were the last bits of silver gauze.

***

Angel glanced at her watch and walked faster. She’d run out of silver thread and been forced to rush downtown to buy more. She did a quick mental calculation. Another few hours sewing ought to do it. The courier was coming in the morning and he’d guaranteed to get her entry to Vidal’s before the Friday deadline.

Angel gave a little skip of excitement.

Tomorrow her designs would be winging their way to Paris. She tried to imagine them hanging on a rack at Vidal’s and wondered whether Clarissa’s entry would be there too. If they both made the finals she’d get to see the black-and-silver cocktail dress as well as Clarissa’s ball gown. Angel’s heart beat faster at the thought and she quickened her step.

“Angel! Wait up.”

Angel turned to see Lily dodge a large white delivery van as she ran across the road to join her.

“Look, Lily, it’s Harrington’s again,” said Angel, nodding towards the van. “Do you think Margot’s ordered more clothes?”

Lily didn’t reply.

“You okay?” asked Angel.

“Oh, Angel.” Lily’s mouth quivered. “It’s not too late. I leave for Paris on Saturday so you can still take my place,
please
, Angel!”

Angel’s heart sank. She’d thought Lily had accepted her decision not to embark on her mad plan. Obviously she was wrong. Struggling to know what to say, Angel was momentarily diverted by the sight of the Harrington’s man carrying several large boxes into the house.

At last she said, “I’m sorry, Lily. I know it’s hard to give up the London Academy, but I can’t do it.” Lily’s shoulders slumped and Angel’s heart went out to her. “I can’t go to Paris for you, but maybe there’s something we haven’t thought of—some other way to beat Margot. Let’s talk about it at home.”

As they entered the foyer, they found Simone carrying two of several large white boxes towards the stairs.

“I’ll do that, Maman,” said Angel.

“Let me take those, Simone,” said Lily.

“Thank you,” panted Simone.

Angel frowned. “Are you feeling all right?”

Simone smiled tiredly. “Just my wretched indigestion again.”

“Oh, Maman—” began Angel, but Simone interrupted.

“It is all right,
chérie
. I have a cup of peppermint tea waiting for me in the kitchen.”

“Go have your tea,” said Lily. “We’ll put these in Margot’s room.”

“Clarissa’s room,” corrected Simone. “These are for Clarissa.”

“Okay.”

Picking up the remaining boxes, they ran upstairs to Clarissa’s room and dropped the boxes on her bed. Angel ran her fingers lightly across the
Handmade by Harrington’s
logo on the lid and wished she could look inside.

“I wonder what the evil diva has ordered from Harrington’s this time,” said Lily, as Angel headed for the door.

Angel considered the boxes, “Maybe she’s had some of her designs made up for Miki Merua. Didn’t you say she’d shown him some of her sketches and he’d asked her to bring in some samples?”

“Yes, but I didn’t believe her.”

“Well, maybe she was telling the truth for once.”

“Let’s find out,” said Lily mischievously, grabbing the nearest box.

“I don’t think you should do that,” began Angel, but Lily had already pulled off the lid and was parting the swathes of pink tissue paper.

A moment later she held up a green-and-white silk dress. “Gorgeous—” Lily stopped as Angel uttered a strangled cry and leapt forward. She grabbed the dress, flipped it around and sank onto the bed.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“It’s
mine
!” croaked Angel. “
My
design, in a Harrington’s box.”

“No way! How can that be?” demanded Lily. “You’ve never
… ”

Suddenly Angel grabbed the nearest box and tore off the lid. Lily stared as tissue paper flew through the air. Moments later Angel held up a striking red cocktail sheath.

Before Lily could speak, Angel was ripping a third box apart. She pulled a navy-blue suit with fine white trim from its nest of paper, threw it on the bed, and wrenched the lid off the next box. Thrusting both hands into the papery depths, she lifted up a hot-pink frilled bathing suit.

White and trembling, Angel turned to the last box.

It was by far the largest of the five and the lid was tight. Angel tugged at it, her nails raking the edges, until it gave way. She parted the tissue paper and lifted out the contents.

Lily gasped. Angel was holding up a stunning midnight-blue velvet ball gown with filigreed silver straps and a small silver angel delicately embroidered on the bodice. Tenderly caressing the velvet was a layered half-skirt of sparkling silver gauze pieces which floated to the floor.

Angel clasped the gown to her breast and sank slowly onto the bed amidst a sea of pink tissue paper.

“My designs,” she whispered. “They’re all my designs.”

Lily stared helplessly at the agony on Angel’s face. “I don’t understand,” she faltered. “Are you saying that Clarissa has had Harrington’s make your designs?”

Angel nodded.

“How dare she!” cried Lily. “I knew she was bad, but I didn’t know she was a thief.”

“She’s worse than that,” said Angel, and the color rose in her cheeks. “Think about it. Why would Clarissa have Harrington’s make my designs?”

“Because they’re the best?”

“Because they make everything by
hand
.”

Lily stared as the light slowly dawned. “She couldn’t—She wouldn’t—”

“Enter my designs in the Teen Couture?” finished Angel angrily. “It’s exactly what Clarissa would do if she’d messed up her own entry. That Japanese silk wouldn’t take resewing.”

“But she’d never get away with it,” declared Lily.

Angel considered. Surely that was true. After all, her own entry was within hours of being ready and if two identical entries arrived in Paris, Clarissa would be found out. Unless she could sabotage Angel’s entry somehow. It sounded ridiculous, but suppose
…

“Suppose Clarissa could delay my Teen Couture entry so that only hers got to Paris before the competition closed—the House of Vidal would only ever see
her
entry.”

“But you’d know.”

Angel shook her head. “Any entry received after five o’clock this Friday isn’t even opened and nothing’s sent back unless you’ve paid the shipping cost. Clarissa could’ve guessed I wouldn’t do that.”

“She’s evil!” whispered Lily.

Angel glowered. “And a thief and a cheat! But she’s also clever, because if I heard nothing I’d just assume I hadn’t made the cut.”

“But didn’t Clarissa have to send original sketches with her entry? I thought your designs were still in your portfolio?”

Angel nodded slowly and said, “Clarissa must have sneaked downstairs, photographed my final sketches and put them back. Once she had copies she could easily draw what looked like original drawings.”

“Could she?” asked Lily incredulously.