ALL’S FAIR IN LOVE AND PAGEANTS 3 страница

“Um, thanks,” I said, trying to smile. “I… I do appreciate this, Piper.”

Piper beamed. “No problem, girlfriend. I could see you needed help.”

“You’ll have to tell me how it works, Nancy.” Deirdre smirked in my direction.

I shook the jug of “lemonade.” The murky liquid churned around, and a few red grains of pepper floated ominously to the surface. I felt a flash of pity for Piper, knowing that she would actually be drinking this.

Fallon grinned. “Tough luck about that singing thing, by the way. I’m sure you’ll… figure something out.”

I nodded. Even though she’d recommended I try singing, Cupcake had said my rendition of “On My Own” was “about as pleasing to the ears as a vacuum cleaner.” But I wasn’t worried. She’d given me a few pointers on building up my voice. Besides, as long as nobody suffered permanent ear damage, I just wanted to get through this pageant in one piece.

“So how often do I drink this?” I asked Piper.

“As much as you want!” Piper explained happily. “I can make you more, if you want it. The important thing is just not to eat any food.”

I nodded solemnly. How could anyone think a program that told you not to eat anything could be good for you? “How long do we do this?”

“Seven days,” Piper said. “By pageant day, we’ll be all slimmed down and gorgeous.” She smiled kindly. “And if you improve in every other area, you might have a shot at the crown.”

Fallon snorted.

“Yeah, maybe,” Deirdre mumbled, fluffing her hair.

Before I could say anything else, my cell phone rang. Saved by the bell, I thought, placing the jar on my table and smiling at Piper. “I’d better take this. See you tomorrow.”

Piper nodded and she, Deirdre, and Fallon took off as I held the phone to my ear and pressed Talk. “Hello?”

“You took my case, didn’t you?”

It was Portia. “Of course I did, Portia,” I replied, wondering what her sharp tone was about. I’d called her as soon as I got home from our trip to Fleur and explained that I had agreed there was something fishy about her dethroning.

“Then why haven’t you called me since?” Portia demanded. I could hear her pacing, high-heeled footsteps back and forth. “Ned told me you knew what you were doing. I expected updates — some idea of how it’s going.”

“It’s going well,” I replied. “I’m competing in the pageant, and —”

“Wait. What? You?” Portia laughed an uncharitable laugh.

I took a deep breath. “Yes, me,” I replied. “Actually, this is kind of a bad time for me. Why don’t we meet this afternoon?”

Sadly, it looked like I was going to have to part with my afternoon nap. Oh, well. I’m sure Piper would tell me I needed the exercise, anyway.

When I spotted Portia sitting tensely at a metal table in the courtyard of the university student center, drumming her fingers on the tabletop, I felt a rush of dread. Don’t let her intimidate you, Nancy, I told myself. You’re making good headway on this case.

“Hi!” I said brightly, trying to channel my inner pageant queen as I sat down across from Portia. “It’s good to see you again, Portia. It’s about time that we caught up.”

Portia looked unconvinced. “Do you have news?” she asked bluntly. “It’s been days since we last spoke.”

“I do, actually.” I leaned forward. “Like I told you, I decided to compete in the pageant this year so I can get an idea of who the players are.”

“And… how’s that going for you?” Her expression implied that she thought I must’ve been chewed up and spat out already by the whole experience — or maybe Cupcake, specifically.

“It’s going well,” I said lightly, not wanting to elaborate. “The good news is, I have some leads.”

Portia’s eyes widened. “And?” she asked eagerly.

I took a breath. “It seems to me, Portia, that the benefits of being Miss Pretty Face are pretty amazing.”

“They are,” she agreed. “And when someone takes them away, you miss them.”

I leaned in. “To me, that means that the person who had the most to gain from your dethroning is the person who was going to take your place.”

“Uh-huh.” Portia nodded impatiently.

I sighed. “Portia, I’ve done some research, and it seems to me that Kelly McMahon had the most to gain from setting you up.” A rush of guilt came over me, and I quickly added, “I’m not saying that Kelly’s behind it. It’s possible she doesn’t even know about it. But she, or her father, Kyle, seem like the most likely suspects to me.”

I leaned back, crossing my arms uncomfortably. It felt strange to be talking about Kelly like this, even though I knew she had the most to gain from Portia’s dethroning.

Portia was watching me with a slightly annoyed expression. Her lack of excitement seemed strange — especially since she was the one who had called me looking for leads.

“That would make sense, Nancy,” Portia said evenly, “if Kelly had been the runner-up.”

What? I uncrossed my arms, leaning in again. “What do you mean? You were dethroned, and she got the crown. I assumed…”

Portia shook her head, sighing. “Kelly wasn’t the runner-up,” she told me. “She was Miss Congeniality. But when the whole judge thing happened and they reconfigured everyone’s scores, she was next in line and she became the runner-up.”

Judge thing? Reconfigured everyone’s scores? “Wait a minute, wait a minute,” I said, “what judge thing? Why were the scores reconfigured?”

Portia frowned, looking at me like she couldn’t believe I didn’t know this. “Last year, right after I was dethroned, one of the judges came forward. She said she had scored us unfairly to favor one contestant — who happened to be the runner-up. I don’t remember the details, but it was something to do with the contestant’s background: She knew the family, they were struggling with money, so she wanted this girl to get the scholarship. But after my so-called ‘scandal,’ she had a crisis of conscience and came forward.”

I didn’t know what to say. I’d thought I was making headway on this case, but apparently I’d been missing some pretty important information. Who knew there was so much intrigue behind the sparkly crowns and sashes?

“Wow,” I said finally. “I guess my theory is off, then. Portia, I wish you’d told me this earlier.”

Portia shrugged, not looking one bit apologetic. “You took the case,” she said. “Ned said you were this crack detective. I thought you’d figure it out.” With that, she reached into her bag and pulled out a mirror and some lip gloss. She applied a perfect berry-colored pout and smacked her lips, releasing the scent of strawberry into the air.

“All right,” I said finally. Portia hadn’t given me the whole story, but it never pays to get mad at the people you’re helping. It just means they’ll be less comfortable giving you the information you need. “So the runner-up wasn’t Kelly; that pretty much means she had no motive. Scratch my original theory. So who was the runner-up?”

Portia shrugged again, dabbing at the edges of her lips with her finger. “Some girl named Robin Depken.”

Depken. My stomach gave a jolt. Was it possible my Master Cleanse partner could be behind Portia’s dethroning? “Do you mean Piper Depken?”

Portia shook her head, looking at me with that same “I can’t believe you don’t know this already” expression. “I mean Robin. Piper’s her sister. And if you want to talk to her, she works over at the Seaver Hall cafeteria.”

RUNNER-UP

“Well, well, well,” a girl with soft, light blond hair pinned up in a hairnet greeted me and Portia as we approached her at the taco station. “There she was, Miss America.”

“I could say the same to you,” Portia hissed.

Portia had told me on the way over to the cafeteria that she and Robin weren’t friends, that Robin wasn’t her “type.” I wasn’t sure what she meant by that, but I hoped interviewing Robin would answer that and several other questions.

Robin shrugged. “The difference is, I was innocent. I had nothing to do with that judge’s scoring issues. They disqualified me because they didn’t know what else to do.” She looked Portia in the eye, a grin spreading across her face. “You, on the other hand, decided the world owed you some free dresses. And you were dethroned for stealing.”

Portia glared. “I didn’t steal anything. I told you that before. Anyway, I’m not here just for the pleasure of your company.” She stepped back and gestured to me. Robin glanced over at me with a mildly curious expression. “This is —”

“Sarah,” I cut in, throwing Portia a meaningful glance. All I needed was to have my cover blown to the sister of another contestant!

“Whatever,” Portia said, examining her manicure. “Sarah is investigating my dethroning, and she wanted to talk to you.” She leaned closer to Robin and lowered her voice. “It seems that the runner-up had the most to gain from getting me dethroned. But you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

Robin turned to me with a horrified expression. Over the years I think I’ve gotten pretty good at reading faces, and hers, to me, had a look of total horrified surprise. It didn’t seem like the guilty look of a person who knows she’s done something and is finally being caught. But I put aside this information; I wasn’t ready to count her out as a suspect.

“Hi,” I said. “Listen, Portia, why don’t you wait for me in the dining room. I’d like to talk to Robin alone.”

Portia didn’t look happy, but she stalked off toward the dining room. Robin looked up at me warily.

“Is it true?” she asked. “You’re investigating Portia’s dethroning?”

I nodded. “She asked me to look into it, and it does seem like there are some suspicious elements to the official story.”

Robin sighed, looking at the floor. “Portia would go down fighting. She wouldn’t take hers lying down.”

“Hers what?” I asked.

Robin looked up and shrugged, like it was obvious. “We were both victims of a scandal. We both lost out on scholarship money. But I don’t really have the… resources… to hire a detective.”

I nodded. “Well, I’d be happy to tell you what I learn. What do you know about the scoring issue?”

Robin scowled. “That it was a lot of crap, just like everything else involving that pageant.”

“What do you mean?”

Robin looked concerned for a minute, like she hadn’t meant to let that slip out. Then she sighed and shook her head. “All of it,” she said. “You don’t know what it’s like. The way they push those stupid cosmetics, and all the politics, and everything.”

I didn’t like the sound of this. “Politics?”

Robin looked up at me. “That pageant is the biggest joke. The real competition has nothing to do with the contestants.”

A chill went down my spine. For some reason, the intensity of Robin’s voice was really getting to me. “Isn’t your sister competing this year?” I asked.

Robin nodded. “Yeah. But only because her friend Fallon convinced her it would be fun. I would have put a stop to it, but if by some crazy chance she won and got the scholarship…” She sighed, running a rag over the counter between the food trays. “Then she wouldn’t have to work two jobs to pay for school, like me. But I hate that pageant, and those cosmetics are — I wouldn’t even put them on my skin. I won’t let Piper, either, outside the pageant.”

I frowned. Robin had reason to be bitter, I guessed, but for some reason the strength of her bitterness surprised me. “What’s wrong with Pretty Face?”

Robin bit her lip, then seemed to regain her composure. “Isn’t it obvious? Pretty Face hasn’t been very good to me.”

“So you’re saying you didn’t even know the judge who said she skewed the vote in your favor?”

Robin shook her head. “That’s what’s so stupid. I guess she used to play cards with my mother. But I didn’t know her. I certainly didn’t put her up to it.”

I nodded. “What about Portia?”

Robin looked up at me, her eyes wide with surprise. “You seriously think I might have set her up?” she asked.

I hesitated. “I didn’t say that,” I insisted. “But you have to admit… you have a stronger motive than anyone. You needed the scholarship money. You didn’t know you would be disqualified….”

Robin opened her mouth and laughed a mirthless, stunned laugh. “And how would I do it?” she asked. “Call up my powerful business associates? Bribe them with tacos?” She gestured to the taco bar in front of her. “Look, Sarah, I guess I should be flattered that you think I’m this criminal mastermind. But the truth is, I have no money and no connections. And no, I didn’t like Portia, and when her name was called, I wished like crazy that they were calling mine instead.” She shrugged. “But I swear to you, Sarah, I had nothing to do with her dethroning.”

I sighed, looking away from Robin’s intense gaze. The truth was, I believed her. And that left me without any leads, with a week of pageant rehearsals still ahead of me, and Portia in the next room, ready to draw my blood.

“Thanks, Robin,” I said, flashing a sincere smile. “I appreciate your talking to me. I’ll let you know if I have any more questions.”

I walked out of the cafeteria and into the dining hall, feeling Robin’s eyes on me the whole way.

“So?” Portia asked, twirling a lock of hair around her finger as she leaned against the wall.

I sighed. “I don’t think she had anything to do with your dethroning.”

Portia nodded slowly. “Yeah. I’d be surprised if Robin had anything to do with it.”

“Why?” I asked.

Portia shrugged. “Her family just doesn’t have a lot of power,” she replied simply.

She turned on her heel, and I followed her out of the dining hall.

Since we’d walked from the student center all the way to Seaver Hall, I had a long, windy walk to get back to my SUV. The dinner hour was over, and darkness was falling over the campus. I said good-bye to Portia and headed off along the quiet, wooded pathway to the parking lot.

I was feeling really frustrated. I’d given so much to this case, even joining a pageant, and I still had nothing. Nothing except a jar of mysterious murky liquid and an increasingly dim view of pageants. I tried to run all the suspects through my head as my footsteps echoed off the pathway: Kelly? Kyle? Robin? Cupcake, maybe? No, that didn’t seem likely. Fallon? No, she’d dropped out of competition last year. Unless there was someone else … someone I hadn’t even come into contact with… how was I ever going to solve this case?

Thunk. A sudden noise came from behind me, and my whole body stiffened. I hadn’t heard anyone back there. Was someone trying to sneak up on me?

I whirled around, searching the woods and trying to hide the fact that I was shaking like a leaf. There was no one there. But all of my senses were on alert. Still trembling, I turned back around and walked quickly toward the parking lot.

A few minutes later, I heard a snap, like a branch breaking underneath someone’s foot. I turned again, searching the murky darkness of the woods. Could someone be sneaking behind me on the path, then darting into the woods? Adrenaline rushed through me, and I could feel my hands shaking. Why would anyone follow me? Maybe there was a culprit behind Portia’s dethroning who I hadn’t discovered yet — a dangerous culprit, who wanted to keep me from finding out the truth.

Even as shaken as I was, I had to admit that there didn’t seem to be anyone behind me. Maybe the sounds I heard were squirrels, or other animals just going about their routine business in the woods. Still, I quickened my pace again. Just as I was about to reach the parking lot, I heard another sound. It was hard to describe, like a whisper, or the sound of a winter parka brushing up against itself. It was a very human sound, and made me feel like ice was running through my veins.

Thinking fast, I reached into my bag and grabbed my cell phone. I punched in a random series of digits, sweeping the woods again with my eyes. “Hi there,” I said loudly, trying to sound casual as the dial tone echoed in my ear. “I just wanted to let you know I’m running a little late. In fact, right now I’m still on the university campus. Yeah, you know that path from Seaver Hall to the visitor parking lot? I’m right near the lot. I shouldn’t be too much longer.”

The echo of my voice faded into the night and there was no sound except crickets and the faint sound of cars driving by on the nearby highway. I took a breath, my mind reeling. Maybe my little show had all been for nothing; maybe no one was following me at all. After all, it was dark, and I’d been keyed up ever since I’d heard that thunk. Was it possible that I was imagining this whole thing?

“Hey!” The sound startled me so much that I jumped, not realizing until a few seconds later that the voice was familiar. “I think I know that beautiful hair and that blue sweater! Now just turn around, and I’ll know for sure when I see your blue eyes…”

“Ned!” I cried, cramming my cell phone back into my purse as he walked toward me from an adjoining path. I ran toward him, flushed with relief. “I’m so glad it’s you!”

“I’m glad to see you too, Nancy,” Ned replied, leaning in to give me a quick hug. “Portia said she had a meeting with you. I hope she’s not turning into too much trouble.”

I laughed, then shook my head. “She’s definitely a handful, but for some crazy reason, I’m enjoying the case.” I swallowed. “Even though I have no leads. And I’m beginning to hate beauty pageants.”

Ned just grinned. “Nance, you’ll always be Miss Pretty Face to me.”

I chuckled. “Good. Remind me of that after the pageant, when I’ve come in last place.”

We chatted some more as Ned took my hand and escorted me back to my car. He told me about a history paper he was writing about the Vietnam War, and I told him what I’d learned about the Miss Pretty Face pageant.

“Wow,” Ned said. “I had no idea all these scandals were going on. I thought pageants were just about pretty girls wearing evening gowns.”

“I guess nothing’s that simple, Ned.” Unlocking the driver’s side door and climbing in, I suddenly remembered the source of my panic just a few minutes before. “Anyway, I’m so glad you spotted me at Seaver Hall. Walking that path back to the car, I got so nervous — I thought you were some bad guy following me!” I laughed lightly, but noticed Ned’s expression of concern. “What is it?” I asked.

He looked uncomfortable. “I didn’t see you at Seaver Hall, Nance.”

I shivered. “You didn’t? But — you were following me on the path!” I searched Ned’s face for any sign of recognition. “Right?”

Ned shook his head slowly. “I saw you from the parking lot, which is right next to my night class,” he said. His eyebrows furrowed. “You thought someone was following you?”

My heart was pounding. But I was determined not to make a big deal out of nothing. I hadn’t seen anyone, and the dark woods were probably playing tricks with my mind. “I thought maybe,” I said carefully. “But I’m sure it was nothing. I didn’t see anyone. I’m sure it was just a squirrel or something.” A squirrel wearing a parka, I thought. But I bit my lip to keep from saying it.

“Are you sure?” Ned asked, squeezing my hand as I sat in my car. “You’re being safe, Nancy, aren’t you?”

“Of course,” I replied, quickly leaning in to kiss Ned on the cheek. “You know me. You know I’m always careful. Now go back to your dorm and finish up that paper.”

Ned gave me a quick peck and we said our good nights. I locked my doors and started the car, pausing to watch him walk confidently back to the main campus.

I was pretty sure I had heard someone.

Either I was wrong, or this case was a lot more dangerous than I thought.

MISJUDGED

The next morning, after a quick call to George, I mixed up a small jug of instant lemonade and dug in the pantry to find a small jar of red food coloring. Carefully, I added a drop, then two, shaking the jug so the color blended through all of the liquid. “That’s just about right,” I murmured to myself. “But it’s still not murky enough….” I looked around the pantry, quickly spotting the answer. “Confectioners’ sugar!” I dumped in two heaping spoonfuls, shaking the jug just enough to evenly disperse it. “Bingo!” The liquid looked just like the “lemonade” Piper had given me, but I could drink it freely without worrying about being “cleansed” of something I really needed. I took a sip: It was a little sweet, but otherwise drinkable.

I turned and saw Dad standing behind me, holding his travel mug full of coffee. “Getting some snacks for your big day of rehearsals?” he asked with a grin. Last night, after I got home, I’d told him about the case I was working — and about the pageant.

“Something like that,” I agreed. No need to tell Dad about the Master Cleanse — he already thought pageants were wonky enough. “Are you looking for your creamer?” I could hear Hannah Gruen, our housekeeper, who was really more like family, washing pots and pans in the sink, cleaning up from the amazing pancake breakfast she’d made us. No matter how grueling today’s rehearsal was going to be, I knew I’d have plenty of fuel to run on.

Dad reached around me to pick up his favorite almond-flavored coffee creamer. “How’s it going?” he asked, tipping some creamer into his mug. “Finding any intrigue behind the sparkles?”

I groaned. “More intrigue than I wanted. It’s a crazy world behind the tiaras, Dad. But you can check me out at the pageant itself next week.” I patted his shoulder. “Just don’t be offended if I don’t win.”

Dad smiled. “You don’t need a crown to impress me, Nancy. Good luck with the case.”

I hugged him before stepping out of the pantry. “Thanks.”

At the pageant rehearsal, Piper seemed totally fooled by my fake “lemonade.” Score one for Nancy Drew. Unfortunately, that was the only thing to go my way all morning. I’d brought the dress I’d worn to a formal dance for the evening gown competition; it was simple and strapless, a satin robin’s egg blue. I’d had plenty of happy memories in that dress, dancing the night away with Ned. But Cupcake seemed to think it was a monstrosity.

“Nancy,” she called out, for what seemed like the hundredth time. “That is the dress you’re planning to wear? That seems like an appropriate choice to you?”

I looked around. It was our first dress rehearsal for the evening gown segment, and everyone else was dressed in flashy, spangled, bead-and-sequin numbers. Fallon wore a glittering black dress with roses beaded up the leg, and smirked at my stunned expression. Even Deirdre was dressed in a sparkly pink sheath. I wasn’t sure what to say. Where had they found these crazy dresses?

“I thought this dress was flattering on me,” I replied honestly.

“It would be,” sniffed Cupcake, “if you were a nun. I urge you to reconsider.” And with that, she started the rehearsal.

Humph.

“Nancy,” Kelly said gently when we were back in the dressing room to change, “don’t take it too hard.”

“Oh, I’m not,” I said honestly, then figured that was the wrong approach, since Kelly thought I was in this pageant to win it. “I mean, it was a little surprising, I guess. Your dress was really something else. Where did you get it?”

Kelly had worn an intricate purple, teal, and green dress that had made her look like a perfectly groomed peacock. The beadwork was beautiful.

Kelly blushed. “Oh, I didn’t buy it, Nancy. I think you’ll find that very few of these girls actually own their evening gowns.” She leaned in. “It’s kind of customary to borrow your evening gown from a local store, in exchange for mentioning them at the pageant. You get the dress you need, and they get free publicity. Everybody wins!”

Hmmm. It would never have occurred to me to try to borrow such a sparkly, fancy dress, but actually I could use some face time with the local boutiques. That gave me an idea. “Thanks for the tip, Kelly.”

“Anytime.” Kelly smiled, then turned back to her dressing station to put on her makeup. “By the way,” she called, “I thought your dress was really flattering, Nancy.”

Fallon, whose dressing station was near mine, rolled her eyes.

I grabbed my cell phone and dialed Bess’s number. “Hey,” I said, when she answered. “Are you up for a little more shopping this afternoon?”

Bess groaned as we pulled into the parking lot for Glamore — “for the woman who believes more is more!”

“Of all the boutiques in all the mini-malls in all of River Heights, why this one?” she asked. She’d brought her usual stash of fashion magazines with her, but when she saw where we were going, she threw them back under her seat, as though they would do her no good here.

I parked the car and unclipped my seat belt. “What’s wrong with this one?” I asked.

“Nancy, look at this stuff.” Bess gestured to the window, where an array of big-haired mannequins were posing in an assortment of jewel-encrusted gowns. “Don’t you think it’s kind of… overstated?”

I shrugged. “In the pageant world they call it glamorous.”

Bess laughed. “Come on. You can see these dresses from space. Why won’t they let you wear your blue dress?”

I sighed. “Apparently, it’s a little too plain,” I replied. “For a pageant, at least. And I’m trying to do the whole pageant thing and take it seriously. I thought you’d be proud.” I looked at Bess with just the hint of a grin.

“You’re here to find out more about Portia’s case,” she guessed without a hitch.

“Oh, Bess,” I said, opening my door and climbing out. “You know me too well.”

Sabrina Balint-Duncan, the owner of Glamore, was the judge who had come forward to confess to throwing her scores of last year’s contestants. George had figured this out for me that morning, via a quick Internet news search. By coming into her store as a contestant, and asking her advice on gowns and pageants in general, I was hoping to get her into a comfortable place where she might tell me more about why she’d fixed Robin’s scores.

George had adamantly refused to accompany me and Bess on this particular mission. “Froofy women shopping for sparkly gowns?” she had said. “Nancy, you know I would do anything to help you solve a mystery, but…”

“But you’d rather be doing anything else?” I asked.

George had laughed. “But I happen to know the perfect girl for the job.”

Bess and I approached Glamore’s front door. I could already see tons of sparkling, flashing evening gowns. To the left of the store, a bustling salon was filled with older women, all having their hair cut or colored or permed.

“Good morning, darling,” a middle-aged woman with teased auburn hair and sunset-hued eyelids greeted Bess and me as we walked in.

“Good morning,” I replied. “I hope you can help me. I’m competing in this year’s Miss Pretty Face pageant —”

“Ah!” cried the woman, running out from behind the sales counter. “Oh, you must tell me everything! I am Sabrina, I own Glamore! You’re here for a dress, yes?”

I nodded. “An evening gown,” I said. “I was told by a fellow contestant that you loan them out.”

“Oh, yes, yes.” Sabrina ran to my side, reaching out to grab the waistband of my jeans, looking me up and down, hemming and hawing. “Your arms, you want to hide them. They are not toned.” Ignoring Bess, she grabbed my arm and pulled me over to a rack of long, short-sleeved sequined gowns. “This cut, it is called the pageant dress. It is perfect. For you, I think, pink.” She reached into the spangles and pulled out a floor-length pink-sequined dress with a sunset beach scene and — oddly — a flamingo beaded down the left leg.

“What do you think?” asked Sabrina.

“Wow,” I said honestly. “Just, wow.”

Sabrina nodded, pursing her lips in satisfaction. “It is right, I think. You try it on.” She gestured to a small dressing area toward the rear of the store. Nodding, I took the dress from her — it weighed at least twenty pounds — and lugged it over to the dressing area. Bess, still standing near the entrance, gave me an enjoying-this-way-too-much thumbs-up.

Once in the dress, I looked down at myself. The sequins seemed to sparkle with the brightness of a thousand diamonds. The dress was so heavy, it made my shoulders slump, and so long that it drooped on the floor when I was in bare feet. When I wore heels, though, I knew it would fall just at the right length.

I stepped out of the dressing room.

“Ah!” cried Sabrina in delight.

“Ahhhh!” cried Bess, bringing her hands to her mouth. I could see she was trying to keep herself from laughing. And failing. I could see her shoulders heaving with giggles.

If that was Bess’s reaction, I couldn’t wait till George saw this dress.

As Sabrina came over to me, adjusting the dress and suggesting accessories, Bess turned away and started looking around the store. I decided to take the opportunity to try to get some information from Sabrina.