The Cinderella Moment (6 page)

Lily groaned.

“What’s the matter?”

“Margot’s waving at Jacqueline.
Please
don’t let her see,” whispered Lily urgently to whatever deity might be listening.

But it was too late and Angel felt Lily stiffen as they watched Jacqueline move towards Margot’s table. Angel busied herself polishing the milk jug and pretended not to see Margot light up as Jacqueline paused by her chair.

“Jacqui!” The word was an embrace, but Angel saw the flash of annoyance in Jacqueline’s eyes at Margot’s use of the more intimate form of her name. Lily had told her that only Jacqueline Montague’s closest friends and family ever called her “Jacqui.”

Margot rose. “How are you? But I needn’t ask—you look marvellous. What a divine dress. Valentino, isn’t it?”

Jacqueline nodded.

Undeterred by her silence, Margot said, “I’ve been meaning to call you ever since the Plaza fundraiser, but what with Philip away, and asking me to look after Lily and run the house and all.” Margot gave her tinkling laugh. “Well, you know how it is with teenagers.” She waved her hand towards Lily.

Jacqueline’s eyes followed the perfectly manicured fingers, saw Lily and smiled. Lily nodded and Angel sensed that it was taking all of her self-control to keep from saying something she’d regret.

“Lily is
such
an adolescent and so headstrong,” said Margot.

“Oh?” replied Jacqueline. “I have always found her charming.”

“Oh, yes.” A faint tinge of color rose in Margot’s ivory cheeks. “Yes. She’s delightful—though a teensy bit wilful sometimes. Fortunately, living at the house means I can offer constant guidance. And my Clarissa is a wonderful influence.” She gestured to her daughter, who smiled modestly.

Angel suppressed an urge to make vomiting noises and instead began polishing the teaspoons. She saw Jacqueline flick Clarissa a glance before turning to Margot with a smile. Angel caught her breath. Maybe she’d imagined it, but for a split second Jacqueline Montague had looked positively
dangerous
.

“So you’re staying at Philip’s?” she heard Jacqueline ask Margot.

“Yes. He practically begged me to move in while he’s overseas. Naturally, in the circumstances, I could hardly say no.”

Jacqueline’s brows rose. “The circumstances?”

Margot leaned closer. “Of course, nothing’s been announced yet.” She glanced at Lily, who pretended not to see. Margot lowered her voice, “When Philip returns from Paris, he and I
…
we
… ”
She laid a conspiratorial hand on Jacqueline’s arm. “I really mustn’t say too much.”

Appalled, Angel tried to see Lily’s reaction, but she’d turned her head away and Angel could only see a rigid profile. Jacqueline, however, seemed delighted and she patted Margot’s hand.

“I quite understand.” She smiled. “Darling Philip. So he’s in Paris?”

“He will be,” replied Margot. “Next month—after South America.”

Jacqueline’s smile widened. “How wonderful that Philip is going back to Paris at last. He’ll be able to visit his mother. How is the dear Comtesse?”

Margot hesitated for a moment then said brightly, “Fine. She’s fine. Such a marvellous woman.”

“So she and Philip have finally reconciled?”

“Yes. No. That is
…
we hope
…
I—”

Jacqueline cut in smoothly, “Such a pity Lily has grown up without her grandmother’s influence. The Comtesse de Tourney is an icon in Paris. Everyone adores her. If only she and Philip were on speaking terms, she could have Lily to stay.” She tapped Margot’s hand with an elegant finger. “And you know an invitation from the Comtesse opens so many doors.”

“Yes. Yes, I had heard that.” Margot fiddled with the rose at her breast. “Do you know the Comtesse well?”

“Quite well, we took Elizabeth to Paris for the Versailles Ball last year and saw Elena several times.”

“The Versailles Ball.” Angel was surprised at the wistful note in Margot’s voice.

“That’s right,” Jacqueline answered. “Of course, you’ll have heard of it. It’s the climax of the Comtesse de Tourney’s famous summer season and where Antoine Vidal announces the winner of the Teen Couture.” She touched the diamonds at her throat, “Anyone who’s anyone sends their daughter to Paris for at least one Versailles Ball. Elena de Tourney has been running them for years.”

“Oh, yes, I—” Margot began, but Jacqueline interrupted.

“Such a pity Philip is estranged from his mother. She created the Versailles Ball, you know. I sometimes think she did it with Lily in mind.” The mayor came into view and Jacqueline waved. “I must go. Antoine will be appearing at any moment. Enjoy the collection, won’t you?” She nodded to Margot, smiled at Lily and turned away.

Angel knew she needed to hurry. The fashion parade was about to begin and she still had half a dozen dessert plates to clear before she could get off the floor. She could see the catering manager watching as the staff rapidly gathered dirty plates and silverware and headed for the kitchen.

She collected Margot’s plate and the congressman’s, his wife’s, the pompous author’s and Lily’s. As she picked up Clarissa’s plate a passing guest bumped her elbow and Angel watched helplessly as the mess of uneaten profiterole flew through the air and dropped with a chocolatey splat onto Clarissa’s pale-blue Marchesa-clad lap.

There was a suppressed yelp as Clarissa stared down at the chocolate staining her dress. Angel saw her furious face and heard the incensed whisper, “You did that on purpose.”

“No!” gasped Angel. “I am
so
sorry, I—” The lights had come up on the catwalk and beyond it she could see the catering manager frantically motioning for her to get off the floor. Grabbing a napkin from the table, she dropped it on Clarissa’s lap just as a burst of thunderous applause filled the room and Antoine Vidal strode down the catwalk towards her. Angel quickly turned away, but as she moved, something caught her ankle. She felt herself pitching forward and tried desperately to regain her balance.

It was impossible.

At the precise moment that Antoine Vidal, fashion icon and world-famous couturier, reached the microphone, Angel Moncoeur, waitress and aspiring fashion designer, crashed to the floor in front of him.
 

Chapter Six

Plates and silverware hit the floor with a resounding crash. As she lay among the debris, it seemed to Angel as though the noise would never end, but the deafening silence that followed was worse.

She lifted her head and found herself staring straight up into a pair of sympathetic grey eyes. Antoine Vidal smiled gently and nodded to her right. Someone touched Angel’s elbow and helped her to her feet.

The microphone squeaked, the lights dimmed and, as she limped from the ballroom, Angel was relieved to see all eyes turn towards Vidal.

“Ladies and gentlemen, tonight your generosity has raised over half a million dollars for America’s homeless youth.” Vidal held up his hand to still the applause. “I believe in today’s youth. I believe in their energy, creativity and ability to succeed—that is why, six years ago, I created the Teen Couture.”

He looked around the room. “I wished to create a competition that would test not only design excellence, but also each entrant’s dedication, determination and enthusiasm. This is why every Teen Couture garment must be made with the designer’s own hands.”

Angel stopped outside the Staff Only door. She longed to stay and hear the rest of Vidal’s speech. It was against the rules but she was certain she’d already lost her job so it hardly mattered. She looked back at the stage and was startled to find Vidal’s eyes on her. It was only for an instant, but long enough for his next words to burn themselves into her brain.

“Young people need to be both challenged and supported. It takes time to develop skill and years to master a craft. There will always be obstacles, but those who overcome them can achieve extraordinary things.”

Angel stepped through the door and heard no more.

***

In the days that followed, Angel decided she was totally sick of obstacles.

As expected, she’d been fired on the spot. She’d tried to explain about being tripped, but her manager wouldn’t listen. He was so sure it was her own clumsiness that had caused the catastrophe that by the time she got home Angel had begun to think she’d imagined that brief tug on her ankle.

It wasn’t until the next morning she learned the truth.

“It was Clarissa.” Lily had come downstairs early, still seething. “You should’ve seen her, looking all innocent and pretending to be sympathetic.”

“I felt something grab my ankle.”

“Yes. Her foot—only no one else saw her.”

“I don’t suppose it would’ve made any difference if they had.”

“Margot made sure of that,” agreed Lily. “She was all charm and sympathy, pretending to be so sorry for the poor little waitress.”

“That sucks.”

“Sure does. I wish my dad had never met her.”

“We need to stay out of her way.”

“That’s the plan.” Lily clenched her jaw. “And with any luck, in a few weeks I’ll be in London and by the time I get home, Margot and Clarissa will be gone—hopefully for good!”

***

The next week was a struggle. School was manic with end-of-year activities and Angel was unusually distracted. Taylor even went so far as to ask if she was smoking something, which made Angel laugh so much that she felt better than she had in days.

She desperately wanted to be at home working on her ball gown, but she’d promised Taylor and Katie she’d help them pick out their dresses for the dance. They’d spent two afternoons downtown trying on dresses and Angel had eventually managed to talk Taylor out of the strapless apricot number she’d set her heart on and instead found her a gorgeous flame-colored fifties-style dress guaranteed to dazzle her date.

All the distractions meant staying up later than usual to sew, but by Friday the calico practice dress was finished—and a disaster. When she looked at it on the dummy it seemed so far removed from her vision that Angel wondered how she’d ever thought she had a flair for fashion design.

She forced herself to continue and each hour brought her a step closer to her dream dress. If she could just make the last part work, maybe she’d have a gown worth sending to Paris.

Angel smoothed a hand over the calico skirt and sighed.
If
she could make it work
…
but time was running out. In two weeks she had to send her Teen Couture entry to Paris; the ball gown was its centerpiece and she still hadn’t cut the velvet.

Picking up the dark-blue cloth, she rubbed it against her cheek and then threw her arms wide, flinging the fabric out across her bed. It was gorgeous.
Surely
she could make a dress worthy of it.

“And I will—starting now.”

She picked up her pattern pieces just as rapid footsteps sounded in the hall. Moments later Lily burst through the door.

“I got it, Angel, I got it!” Lily seized Angel’s hands and danced her around the room.

“Not London?”

“Yes!” Lily thrust a letter into Angel’s hand. “See for yourself. The London Drama Academy wants me in London on June twentieth.” She did a pirouette. “I’ve dreamed of this for so long, I can hardly believe it’s real.”

“Some dreams do come true!” said Angel.

Lily stopped dancing. “Yours will, too, Angel, I know it.”

“I hope so.” She hesitated and then said carefully, “What are you going to tell Philip? And Margot?”

Lily jumped up on the bed. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it all worked out.”

“Uh-oh.”

“Skeptic.” Lily bounced. “Listen, Dad’s overseas until the middle of next month so I don’t need to tell him anything. We’re only in touch via cell phone and even that’s mega-unreliable because of where he is, but the point is he won’t know if I’m in New York or London. As for Margot
… ”
Lily grinned. “She’s meant to be taking me and Clarissa to our place at the Hamptons for the summer, but,” she bounced again, “I’ve told Margot that Elizabeth Montague has invited me to stay with her at Martha’s Vineyard for those two weeks. Naturally, Margot said yes.”

Angel tried not to look impressed at this masterly plan. “It might work
… ”

“Of course it’ll work. It’s perfect.” Lily jumped down. “You know my plans always work.”

Angel grimaced. “Maybe
… ”

“Oh, you’re just thinking of that time your mother found out we’d—”

“Done something dreadful,” said a teasing voice. They turned to find Simone standing in the doorway.

“Maman.” Angel got up. “Are you okay?” She cast a worried glance at Simone’s pale face and the deep shadows under her eyes. Only that morning she’d found her mother holding her side. She’d tried to persuade her to go to the doctor, but Simone had refused.

“I’m fine,
chérie
—just my indigestion again.” She turned to Lily. “Margot wishes to see you.”