it a swell of love. It was quite jarring.”
“Oh,” I say. I don’t feel any swelling. I just feel scared. “That sounds … nice.”
When she’s finally done, she makes me sit on the bed and drags the full-length mirror over. “Okay, stand up,” she says, all giddy, the mirror turned away. I do as she says. She turns the mirror. “Ta-da!”
My mouth falls open for a moment. I don’t even recognize myself. “This is a magic mirror, right?” I say in awe, cheeks getting flushed. “You’re showing me somebody else?”
The dress is the color of fire, tightly bound around my waist, falling just above my knee where a snow-white hem lead down to glistening golden heels the same shade as the honeycomb hairclips. The white and gold and red complement each other like firelight, different flickers at different angles. My eyes seem brighter for the dark liner. My lashes must be at least an inch long. Yet somehow it’s all—
“Jesus,” Carlo growls from behind me. “Jesus, Hazel, you look like something out of a dream. I feel underdressed.”
I turn to find him standing there in a steel-gray suit, diamond cufflinks winking at his wrists as he runs a hand through his slicked-back hair. His blue-green eyes won’t stop moving over me. He looks stunned, the same way I did in the mirror.
“All the credit goes to Alda,” I whisper, blushing like crazy now. I wish he’d stop looking at me like that. We’ll be late for dinner. “I’m a little embarrassed you caught me ogling myself, though.”
Alda tuts. “Appreciation is not ogling, dear. And the credit doesn’t go entirely to me. I merely emphasized what was already there, like all good artists.”
“I’m scared to touch my hair,” I confess as Carlo approaches.
“Good. Hands off. And don’t you get your paws on it, either!” Alda snaps, walking over to her son.
Carlo grins as he offers me his arm. “Shall we?”
We walk through the mansion, across the driveway toward the limo. Ubert is leaning against it, but he stands up as we approach. I see Carlo watching him. I wonder if he’s waiting to see if Ubert will look at me inappropriately or something. It sort of annoys me, like, don’t put Ubert on trial just because I’m dressed up. But Ubert just climbs into the driver’s side with a nod to Carlo.
“Aren’t I going to be overdressed?” I whisper in the back seat. “This is just at their hotel suite, right? What are they going to think when I rock up looking like—”
“Cinderella? Princess Diana? The Queen of England?”
“Great, so we’ve got the girl who needed magic to overcome all her problems, somebody who met with a horrible end, and an old lady. A trio of role models to be sure. Thanks a bunch, Carlo.”
Carlo laughs, kissing my neck softly. His cologne is musky. His breath smells of mint. “What I mean to say is, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on. And I don’t give a damn if they think you’re overdressed. If it makes you feel any better, I’ll tell them we’re heading to a ball after dinner.”
It turns out I don’t need to worry, though. As soon as Nario’s wife, Sicily, opens the door, I wonder if I actually might be underdressed. She’s wearing a flowing green gown that matches her giant emerald earrings and glittering heels. She walks around in the stilettos so deftly she makes me feel like it’s my first day at clown school and we’re learning the stilts.
“Sicily, like the island,” she says as she leads us to the dining room. “But everybody calls me Sil. You must do the same. I will not answer to anything else, will I, dear?”
Nario smiles at his wife. “No, dear, you won’t.”
“He simply detests when I call him ‘dear,’” she says with a slight Italian accent. “Would you like to say good night to the children before they go to bed?”
“Of course,” I say. “I would love to.”
I tell myself I’m just being polite as I follow curvy, vivacious Sil down the hallway toward the room at the end. This place is ten times the size of my old apartment.
“You will have to forgive the mess,” Sil says, nodding at a single toy truck on the otherwise clean and tidy floor. She knocks on the door and two young boys come running out, about five or six, dressed in matching race car pajamas. “This is my friend Hazel. What do you