CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
KATY
After the sleigh ride, Talia whisked Katy away to a pink parlor. “What is this all about?” Katy asked.
Talia grinned. “Remember when you turned a wild burro into a sleek horse?”
Katy blinked. “What do you mean?”
“That time when you helped me get ready for the ball back in Lexington,” Talia reminded her.
“Oh. Yes.” Katy smiled at the memory. “That was the funnest thing.”
“Well, I can’t make you up and dress you myself, but I can hire someone to do it.”
“That’s nice of you, Talia, but totally unneces—”
The door busted open. In walked a pint-sized dynamo, her hair coiled in a tight bun. She had black-rimmed glasses and eyes that could slay a dragon.
“Too late,” Talia told Katy. “Sorry.”
“And where is my project?” the new arrival asked, her voice gravelly.
“I suppose she means me?” Katy whispered to Talia.
“Here she is,” Talia said, urging Katy forward.
“My name is Patrice Arent,” the dragon-slayer said, clipping her syllables. She sized Katy up and down. “Well, you will take some work.”
Katy and Talia exchanged glances, trying not to laugh.
“I am so grateful for your help,” Talia said.
“Bah.” Patrice waved her hand. “It’s nothing, Princess. Of course I would come. Anything I can do to help her Royal Highness.”
“How about turning my friend from a quiet beauty to a stunning woman?” Talia said.
Katy stared at Talia. “Talia. I am perfectly fine blending in with everyone.”
Talia guided her forward gently. “That’s the thing. You’ve always blended in. I think it’’s time that the focus is on you instead of charities or other people.”
Katy shook her head. “I’m sorry. That’s not me.”
“Silence!” Patrice’s voice boomed. She walked all the way over to Katy, reached up, and poked her on the collarbone. “I agree with the princess. Why should you cover your beauty?” She peered at Katy. “I can already see the possibilities.”
Katy’s apprehension increased. “If you have a white dress, or cream…”
“No.” Patrice stepped back and stroked her chin. “Those blah colors will not do. Maybe an orange…or a red…”
“You have a red cloak that will go so good with that,” Talia pointed out. “You’ll look so pretty being taken to the castle gates in the sleigh with your cloak on.”
Katy stared at her friend. “And where will I be coming from?”
“From the back.” Talia plotted. “You will have a grand entrance. That way Marcus, er, the audience, will get a chance to admire you and your dress.”
Katy fanned herself. “Oh dear.”
“Enough talking.” Patrice’s eyes gleamed. “Let’’s get to work.”
First, Patrice measured Katy, giving continuous commentary throughout. “Flat chest, pale skin, stick-thin arms. Thin lips, long hair. Humph.”
A mortified Katy stood there, enduring the fitting.
Talia interjected. “Patrice, surely Katy’s not as much work as you’re describing her.”
“I am not describing her. I am being honest while assessing her weaknesses.”
“What about her strengths?” Talia insisted.
“Strengths?” Patrice gave her a blank look. Then she grinned. “I am just fooling, Your Highness.”
“Noble profile,” Patrice said, studying Katy as though she were a specimen. “Long, healthy hair. Beautiful eyes. Amazing lashes. Her soul shines through her eyes.”
“That’s better.” Talia patted Katy on the back and winked.
“I brought a few dresses,” Patrice said. “We’ll take in what we need to.” She seemed to be looking right at Katy’s chest area.
Katy felt small and insignificant.
A stream of women came into the sitting room, bringing dresses on hangers: a purple chiffon, yellow so bright as to blind the eyes. A colorful collage of art. One by one, she tried each dress. Most looked okay.
Patrice held up a red one. By then, Katy’s nerves were shot. She wondered if the red dress with wide straps and all that shimmer would be too much.
“Go and change,” Patrice instructed her.
Behind a screen, Katy slipped the dress on. When she was done, she turned this way and that, admiring her reflection. Then she stepped out, to gasps from the other ladies.
“What do you think?” Patrice asked Talia.
“I love it, as I suspected I would. What does Katy think?”
Katy couldn’t speak for a long time. “I like it a lot, but the color…”
“It looks fabulous on you.” Patrice waved at her. “As Princess Talia said, the color is a wonderful pick. A lot of times, it comes down to how you carry yourself, your attitude.”
When Katy moved, beads on the dress sparkled. She knew she wouldn’t be able to blend in like she used to.
A tuck here, a tightening there, and Patrice declared Katy done.
Patrice told Talia, “I wish to respectfully remind her Highness that I also offer tuxedo services, if any of your male guests need to be measured.”
Talia’s eyes shone. “That is a great idea.” She summoned for a servant to take a message to Marcus.
The servant returned shortly. “He says he already has a tux, Princess.”
For some reason, the mere thought of Marcus shrugging on a tux made Katy’s heart thrum with excitement.
“I bet he looks good in it too,” Talia told Katy, winking.
For the second time that afternoon, Katy fanned herself.