Scarlett Fever (12 page)

She took Scarlett’s hand and squeezed it. “Do you hate me?” she asked.

“What? No. I…No.”

Scarlett’s eyes were welling up, and so were Lola’s.

“I’ll always remember you did this for me,” Lola said. “Always.”

And there was such a moment of sisterly bonding, such genuine gladness that she was there with Lola and they clearly loved each other, that Scarlett decided not to think about the fact that this was probably true. Lola would never forget, and Scarlett had absolutely no idea what she had just done.

OUTRAGEOUS FORTUNE

When Scarlett got home the next afternoon, the lobby was full of bags—shopping bags, garment bags. She hadn’t seen so much stuff since the day Mrs. Amberson moved in. There was no one at the front desk, but the door to the dining room was partway open and there were voices coming from inside. Scarlett slid it open the rest of the way, revealing a small gathering—her parents and Lola.

“We’re having a kind of family meeting,” Lola said chirpily. “To talk about the party.”

“Party?” Scarlett repeated.

The party, Scarlett quickly gathered, was going to be a pretty epic affair. It was going to be held at a place called Point Manhattan, a private club on the roof of a building in midtown. The view, Lola assured them, was stunning, and the Sutcliffes pulled a few strings. A fabulous swing band had been hired. Menus were going to be finalized in the morning. The florists were already hard at work getting in the orders from all the flower markets. Scarlett watched her parents valiantly making efforts to argue that the party should be at the Hopewell, but clearly a massive engine had been set in motion, an engine that could be stopped by no one. Lola was hyper, chattering like a monkey.

“Come on,” Lola said, pulling Scarlett a little too roughly from her chair, “I have things to show you!”

In the lobby, Lola started grabbing bags. When she could carry no more, she shoved one of the shopping bags along the parqueted floor with her foot. Scarlett picked up what was left.

“What
is
this?” Scarlett asked, looking around.

“Just a few things for the wedding party.”

“Does this mean…”

“Wait until we get upstairs,” Lola said under her breath.

They managed to get it all in the elevator by propping open the gate and piling the bags around them. Once the elevator had creaked and moaned them up to the fifth floor, they pushed out the bags and got everything down the hall to the Orchid Suite. Within five minutes, there was an explosion of pastel tissue paper, box lids, ribbons, and wrappers. Five garment bags weighed down the closet doors. Lola gave them each a quick squeeze, seemingly able to divine their contents by the way they scrunched.

“You signed it,” Scarlett said.

She pushed aside some of the packages to make enough room to sit down. All of these lovely things looked so strange in the Orchid Suite—strange and right. At some point in history, people who wore lovely things were here all the time. That’s why the hotel was filled with dressing tables with many secret drawers and large carved wardrobes and silk-cushioned chairs to sit on while you applied your makeup.

These were the things that came from the Sutcliffes—small tokens of their much vaster wealth. And all Lola had had to do to earn them was sign a piece of paper saying that she wasn’t really equal to them. Yesterday, Scarlett didn’t see what the big deal was, and if Lola wanted to sign, she should sign. But now, seeing this, she started to change her mind. Maybe…
Chip
was right. Maybe she should have held out, just ignored the Sutcliffes entirely.

Of course, she couldn’t say this to Lola now.

“But how did all of that party stuff get planned
today
?” Scarlett said, looking around at the mass of things piled around them.

“It didn’t,” Lola said. “I think they knew I was going to sign, so Mrs. Sutcliffe—Anna—hired someone earlier in the week to start setting things up on the sly. She has friends everywhere, and she does a lot of society and charity events, so she has the number of every good florist, caterer, bakery in town. She picked out the
cake.
” The word
cake
came out with the kind of inflection used for words like
taxes
or
dumped.

“What’s wrong with the cake?”

“The cake,” Lola said slowly, “is shaped like an enormous boat. Specifically, their boat. I
hate boats.
”

“So why…”

“Because,” Lola said, waving her arms helplessly, “they love their boat. And they seem convinced that the boat is what brought us back together. Chip must have told her we went for a ride on it, you know, the night of the show. And she knows we took a ride on the boat before he left for school. They went out to the slip yesterday to take photos. This bakery’s claim to fame is that they can make anything—and it’s all edible. No posts or supports or plastic bits. It’s one big…”

“Boat cake.”

“Right,” Lola said.

“Just like every girl dreams of,” Scarlett said.

“It’s awful. And it’s going to cost about ten thousand dollars.”

On hearing that figure, Scarlett was struck silent. Lola went through the bags, trying to calm herself down.

“This isn’t a party for me,” Lola said. “It’s a party for them to show off and make it all official. All I have to do is be gracious.
I
picked these clothes out, though. Now look at this. It’s for you.”

She went over to one of the garment bags and unzipped it, revealing a dress. Even at a first glance, it was clear that it was perfect for Scarlett. It was midnight blue silk, with a fitted bodice and a full skirt, with a wide swath of steel-silver silk at the waist that wrapped around and tied at the front. At the very bottom, there was a fringe of silvery-gray tulle.

“It’s very Grace Kelly. And it will be amazing with your hair. And here are the shoes…and the purse…” Lola was already fishing around in a bag, producing silver shoes and a bag. “Now, if you don’t like this, it can go back, but I think you will…or I hope you will…and I have a seamstress who can do all alterations in twenty-four hours, and you don’t even have to go anywhere, she’ll come here, but I know your size so this should fit, but…”

“It’s amazing,” Scarlett said.

“And this is to go with it,” she said, handing Scarlett a small blue jewelry box from a shop on Madison Avenue that she had passed a million times but never been in. Scarlett took the box a bit warily and opened it. Inside, there was a heart-shaped platinum necklace set with a large blue stone.

“It’s a sapphire,” Lola said. “Take it out, look at it in the light. Go on!”

The chain of the necklace was very delicate, so Scarlett carefully removed it from the small velvet bindings that kept it in place. She held the heart up to the window, allowing the light to shine through it.

“Isn’t it pretty?” Lola asked eagerly. “I thought you would love it. If you don’t, they have loads of others, but I thought…”

“How much did this cost?” Scarlett asked.

“Don’t worry about that. Do you like it?”

“Yeah, but…I thought you just had a little allowance…”

“This is different. Try on the dress! Try it on!”

Lola pulled a tiny shopping bag out of a larger one, and then extracted from that a pink tissue-wrapped bundle.

“New bra to go with it,” she said, unrolling the paper.

Scarlett accepted the bra and changed into it, while Lola lifted the dress off its hanger. She lowered it down over Scarlett’s head, trapping her in a world of blue satin with occasional scraps of tulle. Lola tugged it down firmly, adjusting it over her hips, tugging at the back, zipping and hooking everything into place.

Scarlett looked in the slightly dusty mirror. For a moment, she tried to fight loving the dress, but it was simply impossible. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, and she could barely believe it was hers.
This
is what it meant for something to fit well.
This
is what people meant by real artistry in clothing. This was the feeling of silk nestled against her skin, forming a shape around her that was graceful and elegant, making her into a new kind of person—a beautiful person. A more confident person. A more together person. A…

A richer person.

“Oh my God, Scarlett,” Lola said, putting her hand over her mouth. “I knew it would be good on you but…oh my God. You’re so beautiful.”

Scarlett smoothed her hands over the fabric of the skirt.

“I hope they all turn out this good!” Lola squealed. She fussed around Scarlett for a moment, tugging material this way and that, feeling around the waist, examining the hemline from the floor, checking the shoulders, and finally studying the strain of the material around the chest.

“You’re bustier than I realized,” Lola said, checking to see if there was any material to spare. “We’re going to have to have this let out a little. But that’s an easy fix. This is the only thing we need to do for yours.”

She got out a big notebook covered in light blue leather, flipped through a few pages of scrawled notes and swatches of fabric, and wrote something down.

“It’s just a party,” she said, mostly to herself. “It’s just a party.”

“You obviously don’t want the party,” Scarlett said. “So why don’t you just tell them no?”

Lola looked up from the book and sighed.

“Mom and Dad said the same thing, but…the Sutcliffes have to make a statement in order to be happy. They have to spend a bunch of money and have the right people see that Chip didn’t just run off with his girlfriend, that it’s all approved of and correct. It has to look right. It’s like a show, and I just have to be in it, and then we’ll have peace.”

“What makes you think they’ll be any different after the party?”

That, Lola was not prepared to answer. She closed the book decisively and reached for another bag.

“Now,” she said. “Where’s Spencer? I have to see him in this suit. I’m almost positive this will be a great fit. I mean, I know his general size and his pants measurements were up on eBay anyway. Look!”

She unzippered another Bergdorf bag. There was a sharp, gray pin-striped suit inside.

“And these go with it,” she said, indicating various bags. “Shirt, shoes, cuff links. It’s the perfect suit. I mean, if you were going to have one suit in your whole life, this should be that suit. And he can carry a suit so well, you know, because he’s got the height going for him. We might have to take the trousers up a half inch or so, and I had to guess on the shirt since he has long arms, so I just bought three and we’ll see which one works.”

“I don’t think he’s here,” Scarlett said.

“Okay, well…let’s show Marlene her dress!”

The clothes seemed to make Lola manic—giving her focus, something she could understand. Something she could share. She plucked up Marlene’s garment bag and hurried down the hall, forgetting that Marlene still wasn’t very happy with her.

Marlene was on her bed, yet another biography of Princess Diana open in front of her, but it didn’t seem like she was reading.

“You really like Princess Diana,” Scarlett said.

Marlene gave Scarlett a look that suggested that another pointless conversational remark about Princess Diana might result in a Princess Diana biography making contact with her face. At least she was acting kind of normal.

“I got you a dress,” Lola said.

“I don’t care.”

Lola ignored this and hung the bag on the closet door. She unzipped it, revealing what looked like a rose-colored ballerina outfit. Marlene stared at it, then turned right back to her book.

“Well?” Lola said hopefully.

“Looks expensive,” she said. “I guess you’re rich now.”

They left her alone. Lola insisted on waiting for Spencer to get home, and got a similar reaction—he stared at the suit on his bed, asked who died, and shut his door. Lola never once stopped smiling.

“Tomorrow,” Lola said as she prepared to go. “I scheduled your fitting with the seamstress at four. And get Spencer to try on his suit, please? You’re the only one on my side.”

She reached out and grabbed Scarlett’s hand for support.

“Sure,” Scarlett said. “I’ll try.”

Demo version limitation

PARTY AT POINT MANHATTAN

Scarlett lay on her bed, staring at the yellowing spot on the ceiling that seemed like it was more over her bed than it ever was Lola’s. She could move to Lola’s bed now, if she wanted. Get out from under the spot.

No. It would always be Lola’s bed. Her spot was here, by the window. That was the way the world was, and how it should remain.

Next door, someone was taking a long shower. Lola would be here soon to dress. She was out at a salon getting her hair, nails, and makeup done. Scarlett had been offered an invitation—a whole morning at one of the nicest spas in town, eating mini brownies and having people apply things to her. She had turned it down to wallow in her bed and stare at the spot on the ceiling.

It occurred to her that she should probably go down the hall and make sure Marlene was dressed. She knew her mom would have already done this, but it seemed big sisterly, and now she was kind of the big sister of the house. That was an unwelcome promotion, a fancy new title with no benefits, just more work.

Marlene was sitting on her bed. She had already stuffed herself into her dress, even though they had about two hours before they had to go. She was stabbing at her hair with a brush.

“It’s pretty,” Scarlett said.

It was very pretty. It also made Marlene look very demure, which she probably hated. Ideally, Marlene probably wanted an outfit that had a special holder for a gun.

“It itches” was all she said.

“Do you need help?”

“Does it
look
it?”

“With your
hair
?” Scarlett countered.

“No.”

Scarlett returned to the Orchid Suite, noticing that the bathroom was now free. Spencer must have been getting ready. Now it was her turn. Mercifully, there was some hot water left for her, and she used it all, until it ran to freezing, probably a half hour. When she returned to her room wrapped in a huge towel, Lola was there. Even on the worst of days, Lola looked better than 90 percent of the population. Today, her hair was exquisite, but her makeup was too heavy, and it made her look much older than she was. She was removing it with a cloth. Lola had been one of the best makeup artists at Henri Bendel. Scarlett was surprised she’d let anyone else touch her face.

“I should have known better,” she said. “I’m just going to take it all off and improvise. Can I use your makeup? I don’t have mine with me.”

Scarlett silently passed the bag over from her dresser.

“How are you?” Lola asked, working at her cheek in slow, careful circles.

Scarlett shrugged.

“Your phone was ringing while you were in the shower.”

Scarlett picked it up and read the display. One new call. She had removed Eric’s name from her contact list, but she still knew the number as soon as she saw it. One voice mail. She turned away from Lola as she listened.

“Hey…” Eric began. “It’s me. I was just wondering if we could talk, so if you get this, could you give me a call back?”

Scarlett almost laughed. So this was when he had chosen to call and tell her the news about Chelsea. The timing was impeccable. She shoved the phone under her covers and watched Lola get into her dress. For herself, Lola had chosen a cream-colored gown with a deep V-neck, with very fine light blue detailing. It draped her frame and brushed the floor in a kind of Greek-goddess way. It looked like a wedding dress. Now Scarlett had seen it. Now the truth was in front of her.

“Come on,” Lola said. “Let me help you.”

Scarlett allowed herself to be dressed, allowed Lola to fuss with her hair and makeup.

“Look,” Lola said, her eyes glistening. “Just look at yourself.”

She turned Scarlett to their slightly warped, silvering mirror. The blue had been so carefully picked for her—it made her hair look golden. And she had curves in this dress that she didn’t seem to have in her other clothes. The material hugged them. In this moment, with the dust-filled light coming in through the window, on what was otherwise the strangest and emptiest of afternoons, she felt good. She wished Eric could see her now. He would be sorry.

“We should get going,” Lola said.

Scarlett reached for the silver purse. She didn’t know what to put in it. She didn’t need money or keys. She shoved in a lipstick and reached for her phone, then stopped. She left it on her bed. Its services would not be required.

A stretch limo had been sent for the six Martins.

“Tacky,” Spencer said as it pulled up. The suit Lola had chosen for him was a perfect fit. Lola really did have the eye for these things.

“Says the TV star,” his dad replied.

“Hey, I like tacky,” he replied. “I’m just surprised they sent something like this. Guess this was the only thing big enough to fit Lola’s hillbilly family.”

“They could have sent a van,” Scarlett said. “Or a little bus.”

The ride was short, less than five minutes. The building was right over by Rockefeller Center, and almost as tall and equally as imposing. In the lobby, they were greeted by a line of extremely cranky-looking people in front of a roped-off section of elevators, shaking guests down for their coats and checking them off a list. Scarlett vaguely recognized a few of the people being checked in. They were all dressed a bit like Chip…well, except for the girls. But you could practically see the price tags.

Lola stepped ahead to lead the Martin party. With a word from her, the velvet rope was moved aside and they were allowed into the private elevator bank where Chip’s friends still stood waiting. The elevator attendant ushered Lola, Scarlett, and Spencer in, but there wasn’t quite enough room for anyone else.

“We’ll take the next one,” her dad said. “You go up first.”

The doors closed, and a soothing but overly loud recorded voice welcomed them to the elevator ride up to Point Manhattan. The main light in the elevator went dim, and greenish light came on overhead. Scarlett looked up to see that the ceiling of the elevator was entirely made of glass, so they could watch as they shot up the endless, dark channel into the air, cables and floors flying past. The voice continued to tell them about all of the wonderful things they would be able to see when they reached the top. Scarlett looked into the pinstripes of Spencer’s jacket and concentrated on not being sick. This was a little too much elevator for her, even though it was probably safer than the one they had at home.

“Hey, Lola…” someone said, her voice tinged with sarcasm. “Nice
dress.
”

“Thanks, Boonz,” Lola replied coolly.

Boonz, Lola’s archenemy, was somewhere in this elevator with them. Scarlett wanted to look for her, but that would require turning away from her study of the jacket fabric.

“Can’t believe you guys actually got
married
,” Boonz went on.

“Well, believe it,” Lola replied.

One of the guys started to snicker. Why, Scarlett had no idea. She saw Spencer turn to look to see what was going on behind him. It messed up her calming view.

“Hey,” another girl said, her voice thick with sarcasm, “aren’t you the guy from…”

“Yes,” Spencer said flatly.

“Married,” Boonz said again. “I’m going to have to get you guys a really nice present.”

“Just having you here is enough,” Lola said sweetly.

“Oh, I know. And I guess you won’t need anything now, right? You’re
set
.”

It was a good thing that the elevator slowed and jerked to a soft halt at that moment, giving Scarlett the quick dizzy spell that reminded her that they were dangling from a cable hundreds and hundreds of feet above the ground. She wanted to get off as quickly as possible, but she was behind Lola, who was moving at a dignified, leisurely pace. Lola stepped off to the side to make some adjustment to her dress, and Boonz and her party drifted past, barely containing their laughter.

“I’m going to take a wild guess,” Spencer said in a low voice. “I’m going to say those are Chip’s friends.”

Scarlett was clinging to his sleeve for balance as her head caught up with her altitude.

“It could have been worse,” she managed to reply. “Lola could have married one of
them.
”

Lola finished her imaginary alterations and pasted a serene smile on her face.

“Let’s just wait for Mom, Dad, and Marlene,” she said. Scarlett could tell that she was nervous, that the encounter on the elevator had rattled her a bit, but she was doing everything she could to hide the fact.

One of the other elevator doors opened a moment later, and Marlene and Scarlett’s parents were deposited. All six Martins made their way down the hall. In front of them, there was a wall made entirely of crystal, illuminated by the rosy glow of untold numbers of candles just beyond it. The room it guarded stretched out and around the building, so its size couldn’t really be determined except to say that it was Very Large. There were dozens and dozens of tables topped with what looked like thousands of candles and creamy white flowers. The windows were floor to ceiling, with views directly out to the tops of other skyscrapers. On one side, there was a glass wall that led to a rooftop garden…but not like the one Naked Rooftop Lady had next door to their house. This was a mini Versailles-worthy affair. Next to that, there was a stage where a swing band was poised and ready to play, and a massive dance floor. An army of waiters and waitresses buzzed around with pastel-colored cocktails and ornate snacks that Scarlett couldn’t even identify. Only a handful of people had arrived.

“Lola!”

A couple approached them. Even though she had never met the Sutcliffes before, Scarlett could have easily picked them out of a lineup. Mrs. Sutcliffe had smoky-brown hair cut into a severe midlength bob and a surprisingly friendly face, even though her skin didn’t look like it quite fit her skull. It was like a too-small piece was stretched over her features and maybe attached by a piece of elastic in the back. She wore a beautifully cut, very simple black dress and a large necklace of white beads, each one the size of a gum ball. Mr. Sutcliffe was a bit of a silver fox in a gray suit with deeply tan skin that looked as hard as shoe leather. Neither of them actually looked at all like Chip.

“My goodness, you are
stunning
!” Mrs. Sutcliffe said, examining her new daughter-in-law like she was looking over a horse she was considering buying. If you were just looking for good genes and someone to take to parties, you could do far worse than Lola, and her expression reflected that. Also, her voice was
deep.
If Scarlett had heard her over the phone, she would have mistaken her for a man. A man with a
beard.

“Chip is in the smoking lounge waiting for you so you can make your entrance,” Mr. Sutcliffe said. He also sounded manly. And a little drunk. Not a lot drunk, but a slow, easy, expensive whiskey or two drunk. He probably wasn’t. He was just so rich that Scarlett expected he
always
sounded like that. He offered Lola an arm, and she was taken away.

“Come see the
cake
,” Mrs. Sutcliffe said in her manly way.

In the middle of the room, right on the edge of the dance floor, was what appeared to be a large model boat. It was long and black, perfect in every detail, right down to the life preservers. And it was deeply, repulsively ugly.

Spencer ran his tongue over his teeth, but made no comment.

“It’s a boat,” Scarlett’s mom said. “How unique.”

“Yes. It’s our boat. We know how much it means to them.”

Scarlett’s parents no doubt recognized the boat. They quickly clasped their hands together for support. They were always doing lovey-dovey things like that. It was usually gross, but today it spoke of frustration.

“Your table is right over here,” Mrs. Sutcliffe added, guiding them to a table that couldn’t really be defined as central. It was sort of off in the corner, near the sushi station. They were deposited there and left alone. They watched as more suited and stiffly dressed people drifted in and right over to the Sutcliffes.

“Everyone here is old,” Marlene said.

A few minutes later, Mrs. Amberson appeared in a stunning floor-length gold dress and sashayed over to them. Scarlett’s mom made a polite, approving remark about it. It was nice to have another member of their tiny team.

“Do you like it?” she said, smoothing her hands over her hips. “I wasn’t sure if it made me look like an Oscar, but Billy said it was divine, and he doesn’t offer compliments lightly. It’s important to have a few truly honest friends, not just ones who tell you what you want to hear. Oh, speaking of friends…O’Hara, I found one of your friends downstairs being hassled by the staff about an invitation. I brought him up with me.”

“One of my…?”

He was walking across the room with the same expression he wore every day in Bio. He hadn’t attempted to tame his wavy curls, and they floated around his head with a kind of rock-star-halo effect. Max. In a suit and poorly tied tie and sneakers. He strode right up to the Martin table.

“Here I am,” he said, stating the obvious.

Scarlett couldn’t blurt out “Why are you here?” in front of everyone, so she just attempted to smile. Max, however, was prepared to do the explaining.

“She invited me after detention yesterday,” he added.

What?
What?
She’d done no such thing. She’d sort of made a friendly joke as she was leaving. A
sort of
friendly joke is not an
actual
invitation to an
actual
wedding party.

On the word
detention
, all the other Martins gave her a look. But since Lola had trumped them all for surprises, the matter was let go, to be discussed at some future point.

“Are you going to introduce us?” Scarlett’s mom asked.

“This is Max,” she said. “Max Biggs.”

“That girl’s brother?” Spencer asked. “The other client…”

“Chelsea.” Mrs. Amberson stepped in. “Yes, indeed.”

“Marlene,” her dad said, “move over so Max can sit next to Scarlett.”

Normally, Marlene would have balked at a request like that, but Max fascinated her, showing up out of nowhere with tales of Scarlett in detention. Sensing a kindred spirit, she quickly shuffled over and fixed an unblinking gaze on him. A quick round of introductions was made.