“Heh.” I didn’t know what else to say, so looked over the press release. The queen had announced that after a long, thorough search, they had located one of the missing royal families in America. There was a quick bit about me, my schooling, and that I was returning to Lilaria to accept my title. It was brief and to the point. I approved.
“Samantha, I think you’re going to have to leave the packing to me and Bert.” Jess crossed her legs in her chair and propped her chin on her hand.
“What? I have to get this stuff over to Dad’s today. I leave tomorrow.”
“Exactly. And you need to go shopping.”
“What on Earth for? Toiletries? Travel soaps?”
“Clothes, Sam. Clothes. You can’t meet the Queen of Lilaria in blue jeans.” She turned to look at Sarah. “Am I right? There has to be a dress code of some sort for that type of stuff.”
“Yes. The reception at the palace will be black-tie formal. Your reinstatement will be white tie. And I’m sure that there will be other things that would require dresses or skirts.” Sarah didn’t look up from her notebook.
I stared at both of them. “Black tie? White tie?”
Jess sighed. “Black tie—you can get away with a fancy cocktail dress. White tie requires a long gown, gloves, jewels.”
“Yes, for white-tie affairs you would need to wear one of your family diadems.” Sarah was still scribbling in her notebook.
“Diadems. You mean tiaras? Crowns?” I shook my head. “My family has diadems.”
“Diadems, never crowns.” Sarah looked up at me. “And yes. I believe you have several. I recall a painting of one with gorgeous emeralds.”
“Emeralds.” I shook my head. I needed to stop repeating everything that was said to me. “Okay. So, shopping. And packing.” I started to think about how much money I could spend on a dress and then realized I had three other accounts to consider. “What time are we leaving in the morning?”
“I’ll send a car for you at four.” Sarah closed her notebook. “There are several shops downtown that would have appropriate attire. When would you like to go?”
“I guess now.” I looked around the kitchen, feeling lost.
“Wear some comfortable shoes—we’re going to be busy.” Jess hopped out of her chair and scurried down the hall. I guess that meant she was going with me. Thank God for stylish roommates.
Chapter Thirteen
How to Pick a Dress for the Ball
—The Jolene Waters Show
After the third store I was ready to kill Jess and hide her body under a mountain of snow. Sarah seemed amused by Jess’s way of talking to me. Then again, it probably looked funny to everyone that saw me standing in front of a mirror in a giant monstrosity of a pink dress.
“I will not wear this.” I glared at her. “I wouldn’t bury an enemy in this dress.”
Someone sniffed beside me and I realized the store owner was watching us. Apparently she didn’t think much of my style choices, either. The fact was that I was incredibly nervous about meeting a queen, parliament, and a bunch of royals. The thought of trying to walk in this dress while meeting a queen, parliament, and a bunch of royals made me hyperventilate.
“It’s gorgeous! You look like you could be in a magazine.” Jess fluffed the skirt a little more. I stared at her until she finally sighed. “Fine. Let’s try something a little more boring.”
“Good idea.” I stepped off the little platform and gathered up the skirt in my arms. Jess followed close behind so she could help me undo the four thousand little buttons along the back.
“You know, this is a huge moment. Your chance to make a big statement.” Jess looked at me seriously. “You need to go in there, large and proud. Don’t let them treat you like the dirty cousin from America. Show ’em you’re someone to contend with.”
“You make this sound like high school.” I wiggled out of the dress and helped her put it back on the hanger, which promptly bowed in the middle, struggling to support the weight of the dress.
“I’m serious. You need to go in there and let them know you’re Samantha Effing Rousseau. You’re gorgeous, you’re brilliant, and you won’t take any shit.” Jess stood up and looked at me. “They need to know that right away.”
I thought about what she was saying. First impressions were important. If I would dress up to give a speech at a bird convention, there was