“Oh, Jane. Why would you think that?”
Jane bit her lower lip and allowed herself a moment to dive into the memories she had avoided for so long. “When I was young, she used to dress me in clothes that matched hers, but as I got older she stopped. She marveled at how different I looked from her. Not that she said that was a bad thing, exactly, but I could tell.”
“Come on, you’re jumping pretty far to reach those conclusions.”
Jane gave a quick shake of her head. “It wasn’t just that. After my dad died and Mom went to work, she became quite blunt about how I should emphasize my education and not my looks. She said my intelligence was my greatest asset and not to worry about my appearance.” She turned back to the mirror and looked at the tall, pale woman she saw there. “I know that’s not horrendous, but hearing that from someone who looks like a Hollywood star makes the point pretty obvious.”
Peatie clicked her tongue against her teeth. “Well, if you ask me, your mom didn’t do you any great favors by making you feel so unfeminine and plain. Especially since it’s not true.”
Jane sighed. It was awkward to defend either side of this argument. Fortunately, Peatie didn’t wait for her to.
“But I can help you with that now,” she went on. “Tonight, Cinderella, you’re going to the ball. Best of all, your prince is guaranteed.”
“This may be the biggest mistake of my life.”
Peatie patted Jane’s shoulder. “Believe me, this is a golden opportunity for you. And in that dress,” she gave a broad wink, “I bet I won’t be seeing you back here again until tomorrow morning.”
“Now you’re making fun of me.”
“I am not!” Peatie looked very serious. “Janie, I would never, ever encourage you to do this if I thought you’d get hurt.”
Jane bit down on her lip and glanced at her watch. It was quarter to six. “Okay, I’ll try it.” She picked the dress up and went down the hallway to her room. Her heart pounded at the idea of actually giving this a try. Maybe—just maybe—it could work. Maybe Trey would finally see her in a romantic light. She began to work up some enthusiasm but a tiny dread nagged in her chest. She stopped and turned back. “Peatie, what if I make a fool of myself?”
Peatie shrugged. “What of it? Will you feel worse if you make a fool of yourself trying to get this guy or if you never even try at all?”
“I don’t know.” Her palms were cold and wet. “I honestly don’t know the answer to that question.”
“Yes, you do.” Peatie smiled in a knowing way. Then her voice became crisp and businesslike as she cracked an imaginary whip. “Now try on that dress.”
As she walked through the doors of the Zebra Room, Jane clutched her serviceable black, wool coat closed around her and tried hard to keep believing.
It wasn’t always easy.
But she tried. Peatie and Ella’s enthusiasm had been infectious and she’d left the house in the fire-engine red dress, which, as it turned out, hugged her figure in all the right places, and made her look more lithe and elegant than she’d ever dreamed she could.
“You can’t tell what something’s going to look like until you take it off the rack and try it on,” Ella had said. “The dress doesn’t make you stunning, it’s the other way around.”
“I don’t know,” Jane had answered, still breathless from the dramatic enhancement she’d seen in the mirror. “I still think this is some sort of miracle dress.”
“It’s a few yards of fabric,” Peatie had said, and Ella nodded. “What you’re looking at is you.”
Jane had smiled at that. Perhaps it was true. Somehow she felt more like herself than she ever had before, even though she had thought it would be the opposite. She felt proud and confident, or at least as close to confident as she could come, given that she was still Jane. Anyway, she’d left the house—that was progress.
Now every step she took added a spark to her emotionally charged anticipation. It was like wearing tap shoes on a subway line. What would Trey think? Would he see her as the same old plain Jane she’d always been or would he finally see her as the woman she thought maybe—just maybe—she truly was?
Her long auburn hair was curled into Pre-Raphaelite ringlets that tumbled across her shoulders in an unfamiliar way. She’d talked Peatie and Ella out of the red-red lipstick they’d suggested, but the dusty-rose she wore instead felt just as conspicuous. Plus it made her mouth look huge and pouty. Her lashes, thick and long with black mascara, seemed to stick together for an instant every time she blinked.
And she blinked a lot, because Peatie had insisted she take off her “sex-prevention glasses”, so everything in the distance had a tendency to blur. Her one small concession to herself was that she’d snuck the glasses into the small clutch bag Ella had thrust upon her.
But in her secret heart, she felt great.
She stopped at the coat check. With one final steadying breath, she took off the coat. A cool breeze drifted through the front door. Her legs, covered in the sheerest silk stockings, felt nude. She congratulated herself for having had the good sense to override Peatie’s suggestion that she wear high heels, and instead wore good, solid pumps.
“You can do this,” she told herself under her breath. “You can do it.”
“I beg your pardon, madame?” the maître d’ asked, coming away from his station. The older couple in front of her looked miffed at his abandonment. “Is there some way I can be of service to you?”
It was one of the first times in recent history she hadn’t felt invisible in public.
Panic filled her. She wasn’t sure what to do with herself. “I’m just looking for my party. Thank you.” With the maître d’s gaze still burning on her skin, she turned to rush from the restaurant. This was a bad idea. A very bad idea. There was no way in the world she could pull this off. She’d leave a message for Trey, apologizing. Maybe even resigning.
The door was within reach. She could feel the chilly night air on her skin. All she had to do was get her coat and—
Wham! She slammed into something, or rather someone, at full force and dropped her purse, spilling the contents across the red, carpeted floor.
Jane dropped to the floor in a frantic scramble to pick the contents up, lest someone should see some embarrassing personal item.
“Pardon me,” a familiar voice offered, bending down before her to help pick up the purse’s contents. She saw a head of dark, shining hair before they stood and he handed her glasses back to her. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” With sudden realization, she gave a self-conscious laugh. It was Trey, dressed to the nines in his most flattering dark, navy-blue suit. She’d seen him in it a thousand times, but the sight always took her breath away. The fit was perfection over his broad shoulders and tapered wonderfully to his slim hips without looking like it was trying too hard.
When he looked at her, his gray eyes took on an unusual light. “Have we met?” His voice was smooth and confident, but the thing that struck her was that it held no recognition whatsoever.
Was he joking? “Almost every day for five years.”
His smile froze. His questioning eyes searched hers. “Jane? My God, is that you?”
She nodded and tried not to yank the scooped neckline of her dress up higher.
“Are you sure?”
She frowned. “What?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. It’s just—nothing at all.”
“Am