Page 47 of The Lost Heiress
“I always get up at six a.m.,” Ransom said.
“I know, but that doesn’t make it okay,” Jacqueline said. She spotted Ana then and waved limply. “Ana, hello,” Jacqueline said. “It may not sound like it, but I’m very happy to see you. I’m just incapable of showing enthusiasm for anything before nine a.m. Do you prefer the front or back?” Jacqueline asked, motioning to the car.
“Back,” Ana said quickly. Something about spending the whole drive sequestered in the front seat next to Ransom sent a wave of panic through her.
“Great, I’ll ride up front, then,” Jacqueline said. “I’d ask Saoirse what her preference is, but you know what they say: early bird gets shotgun, late riser rides bitch.”
“Speaking of Saoirse, did you see her on your way down?” Ransom asked, checking his watch. “Is she close to being ready, or should I send someone up after her?”
“Ransom, for the love of God, please, just sit down and be still,” Jacqueline said, pinching the bridge of her nose, as if she had a headache. “Your avid punctuality is giving me a migraine.”
They all got in. Ransom put his elbow on the driver’s side door and leaned his head against his hand, restless. Ana could see his leg bouncing anxiously up and down through the gap in the seats.
“I’ve been rooting for you, you know,” Jacqueline said to Ana, half turning to face her. “I love Saoirse to death, but she’s a handful. And that Mrs. Talbot!”
“Yes, she’s ...,” Ana said, trailing off, searching for the right word.Awful, the worst, so mean.She wasn’t sure whether it was okay to criticize Mrs. Talbot in front of Ransom. From what she could tell, Ransom and Mrs. Talbot had a particular regard for one another.
“She’s terrifying—I know!” Jacqueline said, finishing her sentence for her. “I want to be her when I grow up. I mentioned to her onetime—just once—that I’m allergic to peanuts, and to this day, she remembers. At a charity auction Ransom hosted here, this awful man, Mr. Brookes, had a Snickers bar in his pocket, and Mrs. Talbot told him if he wanted to eat it, he’d have to do it outside. You should have seen his face! That woman doesn’t take shit from anyone.”
“I wish she hadn’t done that,” Ransom said, sounding displeased. “Mr. Brookes donates a lot of money to our campaign.”
“That’s the only redeeming thing about him,” Jacqueline said. “He cheats on his wife and abuses his staff.”
“How do you know that?”
“I talk to people, and they tell me things,” Jacqueline said.
“For the love of God,” Ransom said, looking in his rearview mirror.
Ana turned to see the butler setting two large suitcases down near the rear of the car.
“She must be joking,” Ransom said under his breath. He opened his door and got out. “Robert, hang on a moment, please.”
“Oh, good, we caught the early show,” Jacqueline said, giving Ana a wink. Jacqueline flipped her visor down so she could see it all play out in the mirror without having to turn around in her seat.
“What’s the matter?” Saoirse asked, emerging from the house with yet another bag.
“We’re only going for one night!” Ransom said.
By the time they actually got on the road, they were an hour behind schedule, and they had to skip lunch to make their appointment at the Giorgio Beverly Hills on Rodeo Drive. A woman greeted them personally at the front of the store, dressed sharply in a chic black dress, a kerchief tied around her neck, and offered them champagne. It was nothing like the beige-carpeted stores Ana normally shopped at, with their dim fluorescent lighting and racks packed tightly with dozens of copies of the same uninspired garment. Here, the mahogany floors gleamed in the brightly lit room, and the racks were sparsely populated with singular garments—floor-length evening gowns;tailored, high-waisted pants; and sleek jumpsuits. Designer handbags were arranged just so on the shelves, like pieces of art in a gallery.
“I have your room ready,” the woman said. “Come, right this way.”
“Elizabeth Taylor shops here, you know,” Jacqueline whispered to Ana as they were escorted to the back of the store. “And Princess Grace of Monaco.”
In the dressing rooms, there were pedestals with three-paneled mirrors and a buttery leather sofa to lounge on.
“Miss Towers, I pulled a few things already that I thought might be to your taste,” the woman said.
Saoirse handed her glass of champagne to Ana so she could survey the selections that hung on the rack next to her dressing room.
“My taste, or my brother’s?” Saoirse asked skeptically. “You pre-vetted these, didn’t you?” she asked Ransom, but Ransom didn’t respond. Saoirse flipped dismissively through the first three dresses and paused on the fourth, pursing her lips. “This one isn’t awful, I guess,” she said, running her hands down the silk fabric.
Ana took a seat on the sofa next to Ransom, setting both glasses of champagne on the sleek oak coffee table in front of them. Ransom was thumbing through a discarded magazine, already bored and impatient to leave.
“So are you looking forward to the party?” Ana asked, trying to make conversation.
“I’m looking forward to it being over,” Ransom said, not glancing up from his magazine.
