Page 53 of On Thin Ice

Marco, however, was all business. “Please turn around.” As I did, he asked, “How does it feel?”

“Okay.”

He continued standing back, evaluating the dress on me. “If you like it, we’ll find you some strappy open-toe heels to go with it.” Then he turned to Edna. “Are we choosing jewelry as well today?”

“No.” Yet another reminder that Edna was Sinclair’s right-hand woman. She knew exactly what his wishes were.

Marco waved me toward him and this time he evaluated the dress up close. “Is it tight or pinching anywhere?”

“No.” Snug, but I believed that was the point of the dress—to show off my curves without blatantly doing so. After all, it was black, and I imagined, in the darkness of an auditorium, it wouldn’t stand out.

I was okay with that.

But this dress—the feel of the fine fabric against my skin, the way it almost seemed to have been made for me—was amazing and beautiful.

Marco asked, “Do you like it?”

“I do. I love it.”

“Let’s have you look in the mirror.” Just behind Marco was a large full-length mirror that I’d seen somewhere in the mansion before…I just couldn’t remember where.

At least now I didn’t have to try to picture myself in it. Although the dress didn’t look like something I’d ever have picked out for myself—I couldn’t deny it made me look beautiful. All I could do was smile.

“Well, let’s see what you think about these others.”

This time, he handed me a chiffon satin dress that felt sumptuous against my hands. It was a soft pink with a top that was like a corset with spaghetti straps, meaning I’d have to continue going braless. The skirt was layered with ruffles, and I wondered how it would look on me.

This dress was a little more complicated to get on. I stepped into the skirt but had to zip it up the back from my waist to the top. It, too, fit well, although it was a little loose.

It revealed my cleavage, something the other dress hadn’t done. Regardless, I’d have to find a way to feel comfortable in whatever dress we settled on.

Like before, I stepped out from behind the screen. Edna smiled widely, no doubt enjoying the break from her routine, and Marco asked me the same questions as before. But when I saw myself in the mirror, much as I loved the dress and the slit at the front where I could show a little leg, I felt like this was a dress that would look best at a high school prom. A few years earlier, I might not have minded the chance, but I didn’t want anything reminding me of my high-school days in Winchester to sully what I hoped would be an unforgettable event.

Although I didn’t say it out loud, I decided that one was not the dress I’d wear. Maybe had it been in a different color, but I’d never know for certain.

I wound up trying on more than ten dresses. One was a gown with a light green skirt embroidered with metallic threads so it sparkled. If I chose it, the skirt would have to be shortened so I wouldn’t trip on it. Although it was snug, it had a slit at the back. The top was plain light green with sleeves that ended at my elbows with a big lapel and plunging neckline, but what made this gown fun was a cape-like effect in the same plain fabric surrounding the skirt. But when I saw myself in the mirror, I didn’t care for how it looked.

I tried on a couple of little black dresses too, but I knew I didn’t want something that barely covered anything—and one of those fit that particular bill. I tried on a teal gown that was plain but pretty, a ruffled burgundy dress, and then the dress I knew I wanted.

I didn’t think so at first until I put it on. It was red and fitted as well—and exposing more skin than I thought I’d be comfortable showing off…but something about it spoke to me, and I thought Sinclair would love it. It had short sleeves that didn’t go up to my shoulders, instead only hugging my arms, and the neckline showed off just a hint of cleavage. But the back wasn’t exposed—just my shoulders—and the skirt flowed to the floor in a few layers.

When I saw myself in the mirror, I knew this was the one—but I wanted to hear what the others thought.

Marco, of course, simply asked the same old questions. Edna, however, said, “You are stunning, Lise. I’m afraid you’ll put all the other women at the ballet to shame.”

I smiled, looking at my reflection. For probably the first time in my life, I truly felt beautiful…almost like Cinderella going to the ball.

Was I an imposter?

Before I could ponder it further, Marco said, “What do you think?” When I didn’t answer right away, he added, “If you don’t like any of these, I can come back with more.”

“No. I think I can pick one.”

“Do you want my opinion?” I didn’t know if I did, but I nodded anyway—and he didn’t hesitate. “Your eyes look like they’re on fire in this dress. It’s something about the way the green in your eyes reacts to the red. The green dress also reacted with your eyes, but it was subtle. You’ll make a statement in this one.”

Was that good or bad? Did I want to make a statement?

He must have seen the doubt on my face. “You look stunning in red. My recommendation is this dress.”

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