The Time-Traveling Fashionista (12 page)

She nodded mutely in greeting to the other passengers she passed. The corset made it hard for her to breathe, let alone talk.
It was strange; they all looked like they were cast as extras in a period film. Men were handsomely dressed in dark dinner
jackets with top hats. Women had their hair in elaborate up-dos, and some wore floor-length skirts that looked like brightly
colored lampshades and were gathered so tightly at the ankle they were forced to waddle down the hall like a flock of ducks.
To her, it was a very peculiar style.

“Isn’t it simply divine?” she overheard one woman gush. “Have you ever seen a ship so luxurious?” Everyone seemed to be in
the best of spirits.

After two lefts and a right, Louise arrived.

Standing at the top of the grandest staircase she had ever seen, Louise basked in the natural moonlight that shone through
the wrought-iron-and-glass dome above her head. She looked up in awe and saw a black night sky flecked with twinkling stars,
flashing down on her like a celestial paparazzi. The staircase was constructed of polished oak and embellished with gilded
bronze decorations. Ornately framed oil landscape paintings decorated the walls of the landing. A bronze cherub mounted on
the center railing held up a lamp that illuminated the way. Walking down the wide sweeping stairs in Miss Baxter’s evening
gown made her feel truly beautiful and special, like maybe she could actually be Miss Baxter for real.

“Ahh, Miss Baxter!” Mr. Baxter shouted from the foot of the staircase. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

Louise blushed as all eyes looked up at her. She heard a low whistle from a man in a black tailcoat passing by her on the
stairs.
Awesome, I’m a movie star!
She wasn’t used to being noticed by men—or rather boys—for her beauty. She carefully made her way down the staircase, convinced
she was going to wipe out in Miss Baxter’s unfamiliar high-heeled shoes and be totally humiliated. With a little patience,
and some help from the smooth wooden handrail, she made it safely down to the ground level.

Louise looked down at her hand on the banister and gasped. She was wearing a stunning diamond-and-sapphire ring on her right
ring finger. She held the ring up to the natural light in awe of the stone’s glimmering beauty. Had she been wearing it all
along? For some reason, she was a little freaked out that she hadn’t noticed it before, and now that she did, her hand felt
heavy and weighted down. The ring was spectacular, but it wasn’t hers. She had the sudden realization that this wasn’t her
life. But she quickly pushed those thoughts aside and instead took Mr. Baxter’s outstretched hand. He was all gussied up for
dinner, wearing a formal tux with a white bow tie and black-and-white wing tip shoes. It looked as though he had greased his
handlebar mustache for the occasion, which now turned up in two perfect points.

“Is something wrong with your hip?” he asked, concerned as she held on to his arm for support and hobbled into the dining
room through two open French double doors.

“Oh no, my hip is fine,” Louise said quickly, embarrassed. “I’m just not used to these shoes or something.”

How long would she be able to get away with pretending to be Miss Baxter before she was exposed for who she really was?

The first-class dining room was crowded with hundreds of passengers, all dressed in their evening best. Dinner was clearly
the most important social event of the day on this cruise. The ladies were wearing a rainbow of evening gowns, and the men
were dressed in tuxedos or formal dark suits with vests, the kind they would put pocket watches into. The room sparkled as
the elaborate crystal chandelier in the center of the ceiling cast a soft light that reflected off the women’s jewelry. Louise
had never seen so many diamonds in her life. The enormous cream-colored room, which seemed to span the width of the entire
ship, was strangely familiar. She felt like she had been there before.

Mr. Baxter led her past the other tables, all covered in crisp, white linen tablecloths and set with fine white china with
cobalt blue and gold borders. Big porcelain vases filled with beautiful yellow daffodils served as the centerpieces of the
tables, as fresh as if they had just been picked. A string orchestra of violins and cellos playing in the corner serenaded
the guests. The musicians were dressed in matching white dinner jackets and bow ties.

“Lucy! Cosmo!” Mr. Baxter called across the dining room as he navigated his way through the crowd.

“So nice to see you again, my dear,” Lucile exclaimed. “And Henry, you are looking quite well.”

There was a flourish of air kisses as Lucy and Cosmo stood up to greet them. Lucy was wearing a white silk evening gown of
her own design, embroidered with gold and jeweled dragons. It was spectacular. Her chestnut brown hair was pulled back in
an intricate knot, held in place by a jeweled comb, with some curls framing her face.

“Fancy strawberries in April, and in mid ocean. The whole thing is positively uncanny. Why, you would think you were at the
Ritz,” she remarked.

That would explain Louise’s feeling of déjà vu. She had stayed at the Ritz Carlton once with her mom in London, and this dining
room was very similar to the restaurant in the hotel.

“I went to the Ritz once with my mother,” Louise said to no one in particular, wishing that her mom could see this place,
too. Somehow it seemed less special if she couldn’t share it with her. Like, how would she know if it had really happened?

“Miss Baxter, that dress looks stunning on you. I need to use you as one of my models,” Lucile enthused, turning toward her.

Louise smiled shyly.
The
Lucile was actually asking her—well, Miss Baxter, but still—to be one of her models. It was too surreal. “I love this dress.
I’m such a fan of your designs,” she gushed, brushing her fingers over the beads.

“Aren’t you a dear? You will have to pass by my new salon in New York. We’ll fit you for some new dresses.”

“Really?” Louise asked excitedly. “Awesome.”

Lucy cocked her plucked left eyebrow. “Is that a new term? I am so out of touch these days. I hardly get out of the atelier.”

“I suppose so.” Louise shut her mouth quickly, realizing her mistake; she’d have to be a little more careful with what slang
she used.

“Yes, I would be thrilled to create some more splendid dresses especially for you,” Lucile declared.

“Thank you,” Louise called over her shoulder as Mr. Baxter continued leading her through the crowded dining room toward their
table. Louise thought she might be the luckiest girl in the world at this moment. She just wished she had someone to share
it with.

“Mrs. Astor!” Mr. Baxter shouted to the woman Louise had met earlier on the deck, who was now wearing a floor-length salmon-colored
evening dress with lace sleeves and waving enthusiastically from a few tables down. He grabbed Louise’s hand and hurried her
over to their assigned dinner table.

Louise spotted the captain’s table at the far side of the room. Captain Smith was seated at a round table with a woman who
seemed to be his wife, the first officer, and some other uniformed men whom she didn’t recognize.

She caught a glimpse of Dr. Hastings sitting at a nearby table with two female companions in broad-rimmed hats that shadowed
their faces. He scowled at Louise and Mr. Baxter as they rushed by, visibly displeased to see his patient ignoring his strict
orders. The fine hairs on the back of Louise’s neck prickled; that man gave her the creeps.

“Don’t you look marvelous,” Mr. Baxter gushed to Madeleine Astor, kissing her on both cheeks.

“Oh, Henry, you are too kind. I’m as big as this ship,” Mrs. Astor replied, patting her pregnant belly, eyes sparkling. “Miss
Baxter, we’re so pleased you’ll be joining us,” she said, turning to Louise. “We were worried you wouldn’t feel up to it.”

Louise smiled mutely. She still had no idea what to say to this woman.

“Yes, she’s feeling a bit under the weather, aren’t you?” Mr. Baxter responded, giving her hand a painful squeeze.

“Yes,” Louise whispered. Mr. Baxter pulled out a dining chair for her, and she took her place at the table in between Mr.
Baxter and Mrs. Astor.

“Mrs. Straus! Jacob! Benjamin! Isidor! Wonderful to see you all on such a fine night as we have here,” Mr. Baxter exclaimed
enthusiastically.

Louise turned bright red as Benjamin Guggenheim gave her a suave, conspiratorial smile from across the table. She had been
looking forward to seeing him since this afternoon, and now she couldn’t think of a single thing to say. She gave a quiet
“hello” and then shyly glanced down at all of the forks and knives lined up next to the china plate. For the first time in
her life, she was grateful that her mother had insisted on their formal dinners in the dining room.

“Champagne, madam?” asked a waiter in a white jacket, popping open a bottle.

“No, thank you,” Louise demurred.

“She’s only seventeen,” Mr. Baxter’s voice boomed, waving away the champagne bottle.

“Caviar?” another uniformed waiter asked, holding a silver service tray piled high with a mound of black glistening fish eggs.

“No, thank you,” Louise repeated.