The Cinderella Moment (10 page)

The door closed and Angel was left alone in the dark.
 

Chapter Ten

Angel didn’t know how long she sat there, her mind seething with images of her mother in the hospital, of Papa—so frail and gentle and loving—and of Margot smiling triumphantly.

Those that have the power make the rules.
Her mother's words echoed in her head. Papa had never believed it, but now Angel knew it must be true. In a few hours Clarissa’s forged sketches and the Harrington’s-made copies of Angel’s designs would arrive at Vidal’s and there was nothing she could do about it.

If she contacted Vidal’s, Margot would know and Maman’s recovery would be jeopardized. She wouldn’t let that happen.

Angel felt the tears gathering and bit her lip hard; this was no time for self-pity.

A sudden tap on the car window made her jump.

Roberts opened the door. “Sorry, Angel, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“That’s okay, I’m holding you up.”

Roberts walked her to the door. “Sorry to hear about Simone—will she be okay?”

“I think so,” replied Angel, slipping inside.

It felt strange to be all alone downstairs and when she turned on the kitchen light, the sight of her mother’s apron on the bench was too much.

She gathered it up, went into Simone’s bedroom and burst into tears.

Eventually Angel stopped crying and sat up. On her mother’s bedside table were the two pictures Lily had taken last Thanksgiving when Simone had taught them how to make chocolate soufflé. Maman had been triumphant when Angel’s had emerged from the oven perfectly risen, and Lily had snapped them grinning at each other.

She’d also captured the look on their faces a moment later when the soufflé had collapsed.

Angel carried the photos to her room.

Her ball gown was where she’d left it, with the needle still waiting for its silver thread. She stood there for a moment looking at it, then squared her shoulders and turned resolutely away.

Putting the photo frame on the desk, she picked up her Teen Couture entry form. She was about to rip it in two when the photo caught her eye. She gazed at her mother smiling so proudly, considered her ball gown, and then slowly put down the entry form.

***

It was after three a.m. when Angel quietly opened Lily’s door. Groping through the darkness, her foot hit something hard.

“Ow!”

Lily turned on the light. “What
are
you doing?”

Angel glared at the four large Louis Vuitton suitcases in the middle of the room.

“I stubbed my toe on what I can only imagine is your entire wardrobe. I thought you were going to Paris for two weeks, not forever.”

Lily scowled. “Margot insisted the maid pack everything in plenty of time. Left to me, I’d just shove a few clothes in my duffel bag tomorrow morning.” She patted the bed. “Come here.”

Angel sat. Lily massaged the offended toe.

“Are you okay? How’s Simone? Clarissa told me about Florida. Not that I’m speaking to the evil diva since she stole your designs. You know the courier picked up her Teen Couture entry while we were at the hospital yesterday? Clarissa was so smug, I nearly—”

Angel interrupted. “Do you still want me to take your place in Paris?”

Lily stopped massaging.

“Well, do you?”

Lily squealed.

“Shhh! You’ll wake Margot.”

“Do you mean it?” whispered Lily.

“Margot’s told me that so long as I let Clarissa enter my designs in the Teen Couture she’ll pay for Maman’s recovery.”

“That blackmailing bitch! She’s not going to get away—”

“With it,” finished Angel. “No, she isn’t, and nor is Clarissa, which is why I need to go to Paris.”

“So you can pretend to be me and tell Vidal in person?”

Angel shook her head. “No one at Vidal’s can know Clarissa has cheated until Maman is completely well. I need Margot to pay for her to go to Florida, but if she gets even a hint that I’m in Paris she won’t do it. I can’t risk that.”

“But if you’re not going to expose Clarissa, why go to Paris?” asked Lily.

“Because there’s
no
way I’m letting Clarissa enter the Teen Couture with my designs,” declared Angel. “Papa always used to say that sometimes in life you have to roll with the punches, but sometimes you have to stand up and fight.”

“And you’re going to fight?”

Angel nodded. “If I can get into Vidal’s, then I can swap my designs for Clarissa’s. By the time anyone finds out, Maman will be better and there’ll be nothing Margot or Clarissa can do. And if I win the Teen Couture prize money, Maman will be cared for and nothing Margot can say or do will prevent it.”

“And getting into Vidal’s should be easy, because Jacqueline Montague said that Antoine Vidal is my grandmother's favorite designer,” said Lily enthusiastically.

“Just so long as the Comtesse thinks I’m you.”

“Of course she will. All you have to remember is your name is Lily.”

“My name is Lily,” repeated Angel. “I’m Lily de Tourney.”

“That’s it.” Lily grinned. “Tomorrow, you’ll go to Paris and I’ll go to London. You’ll swap your designs, I’ll earn my place at the London Academy and in two weeks you’ll fly home. Once you’re back in New York and we’re sure Simone is better, I’ll fly to Paris and tell the Comtesse the whole story.”

“And you’re sure you want to take the rap?”

“Definitely.” Lily did a jig. “It’ll totally be worth it. I'll book my flights online tonight.”

“So how do we explain my disappearance?”

 “Summer camp,” she said firmly. “You’re going next month anyway, so we’ll just tell Simone and Margot that you’re leaving early. That way, Margot won’t be suspicious and your mom won’t worry about you while she’s recovering.”

“Okay.”

“Which just leaves our passports,” said Lily.

“Maman got me a new one to go to Grandpère’s funeral, only we never went.”

“Where is it?”

“In my room.”

Lily pulled her passport from her bag. “Come on.”

Downstairs, Angel found her passport. She held her breath as Lily compared the photos.

“It’s okay. They were taken a year apart, but we’ve both got blue eyes and dumb expressions. My hair’s lighter than yours, but we can put some blonde highlights in yours tomorrow. We’ll need to work on our eyebrows, but, really, who’s gonna care about a couple of high school students?”

“Security,” said Angel suddenly.

“Only a problem if they’ve got biometrics at the Paris airport, but I asked Elizabeth Montague and she said not until next year.”

“Well, they’ve got ’em at JFK, so what’ll we do there?”

Lily thought for a moment. “Going out we can swap them after we’ve passed through security and coming home we can send our passports to each other before you leave Paris.”

Angel nodded. “And visas?”

“Not necessary for visits under ninety days.”

“Great,” said Angel. “So all I need now is for you to tell me everything you can remember about Paris and your grandmother.”

***

Angel spent Friday afternoon at the hospital. Simone seemed a little better but she was preoccupied and Angel suspected she was worrying about the hospital bills. For a moment she thought of telling her about Margot's generosity and then she remembered what Margot had said about keeping their “arrangement” secret. Instead, Angel took a deep breath and recited the speech she and Lily had rehearsed over lunch.

It was a convincing account of her imagined conversation with the medical insurance company. Angel hated to lie, but it was worth it to see the fear fade from her mother’s face as she explained that her policy had a new provision for rehabilitation that would cover most of the cost of her stay in Florida.

From there, it was just a short step to telling Simone about summer camp and how awesome it would be to spend two extra weeks there.

“You’ll come and see me tomorrow, before I leave?” asked Simone anxiously, as Angel kissed her goodbye.

“I’ll be here at nine, Maman, all ready for your last-minute instructions about how not to get lost in the woods at camp.”

Simone smiled faintly. “And you will be all right?”

“So long as I know you’re getting better,” said Angel, hugging her again.

“Jean-Pierre has promised to drive me up to Camp Wilderness as soon as I am back from Florida, so you can see how well I am.”

“Can’t wait,” said Angel.
 

Chapter Eleven

The international terminal at JFK was crowded. Angel scanned the hall, but couldn’t see any sign of Lily or the four Louis Vuitton suitcases she’d promised to repack with Angel’s clothes and Teen Couture outfits.

Angel smiled at the thought of Lily having to run up and down the stairs swapping their clothes while Margot and Clarissa were at the hair salon. They’d agreed that Lily would leave her clothes in the closets in the butler’s old room in case Clarissa went snooping around before she and Margot left for the Hamptons.

Angel gripped Lily’s duffel bag and wondered if she should call her. She’d meant to touch base after she’d left the hospital but all she’d been able to think about was Maman.

It had been hard saying goodbye, despite the agency nurse’s assurances that Sunnydale was exactly what Simone needed. “She’ll be feeling much better in a week and quite fit in a fortnight. You’ll be surprised. You can ring her tonight and see how she is because she’ll want to know you’re all right. After that you may ring her once a day,” she’d held up a warning finger, “but not for too long.”

Angel had made a mental note to ring Sunnydale from the airport.

She moved towards the Air France counter and saw Lily standing at the first-class check-in. Angel frowned—was Lily wearing Prada? She moved nearer. Yes, it was definitely a cream Prada two-piece—gorgeous, but totally out of character for Lily, who always wore jeans and a sweatshirt when she travelled.

Angel was about to call out when the words died in her throat. Standing next to Lily, looking superb in a burnt-orange Tommy Hilfiger shirt and black trousers, was Margot.

Angel looked around wildly for somewhere to hide. She saw Lily catch sight of her and Margot turning to see what she was looking at. She ducked down behind the crowd waiting in the economy class line and almost tripped over a honeymoon couple with confetti in their hair.

“Hey, watch it,” cried the man.

“Sorry.” Crouching low, Angel made a beeline for the bathroom. Risking a quick glance over her shoulder she saw Lily grab Margot’s arm and point to the luggage.

Angel burst into the bathroom and made for the last stall. She closed the door and waited.

It seemed like hours before she heard Lily’s piercing whisper.

“Angel.”

“Here.”

“It’s okay, she’s gone.”

Angel opened the door. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, she’s dining with friends, so she had to go.”

“Thank goodness.” Angel slumped down onto the toilet seat. “What was she doing here? I thought she was sending you with Roberts in the Rolls.”

“She was.” Lily looked embarrassed. “It was my fault. I got distracted and I’d only just started unpacking the first suitcase when she came home and saw what I was doing. She went all icy and polite in that scary way—you know—when you sit there like a total doofus and can’t think of what to say.”

Angel nodded: she knew exactly.

“She asked if I thought I could do a better job of packing than the maid.” Lily looked guiltily at Angel. “But the worst part was that I couldn’t swap any of our clothes and now the suitcases are checked in and that means—”

“I’ll have only your clothes to wear in Paris,” cried Angel. “But I’m three inches taller than you and a different size and shape!”