The Glass Slipper Project (3 page)

So many memories filled his head, followed by feelings he didn’t want to address. Feelings he hadn’t allowed himself to experience in years. He didn’t like her ability to bring them — so easily — back to the surface. A quiet anger made him withdraw abruptly.

She staggered back surprised then embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I thought we had parted as friends.”

He cleared his throat feeling foolish and angry at himself for hurting her feelings. It was similar to crushing the wings of a moth. “We had. I’m — I just wanted to look at you.”

He ignored Tony’s odd glance. He already knew how empty his words sounded. She looked so plain and yet there were moments…

She laughed, but instead of putting him at ease, tension grew inside him. “I’m afraid there’s not much to see,” she said holding out her arms. “But look away.” She playfully spun around for inspection then turned and faced him, her eyes bright with amusement. “Have I changed much?”

“No.”

She patted his arm then rested her hand on his shoulder. “Carlton.” She gazed at him amazed. “I never would have guessed. What have my sisters said?”

He kept his hands at his side, wishing she would remove hers from his shoulder. He wore a thick jacket and sweater, yet he felt as though the heat from her fingers penetrated both shields. “They don’t recognize me.”

She frowned. “That’s odd. How can that be?” She cupped his chin and moved his head to the side until his profile faced her. “I could recognize you anywhere. Especially from that scar near your ear. It’s faint, but it’s still there. I remember when you got it. If only my parents could see what you’ve become…” Her voice trailed off, her dark eyes filling with tears.

Alex touched her shoulder, again amazed by how thin it felt under the cardigan. “I’m sorry about your loss,” he said with such tenderness, his friend sent him another curious glance. Alex ignored him.

She blinked back the tears and forced a smile. “A part of me is relieved. Mom suffered for so long.” The brief sadness left her gaze and Alex found himself smiling back. “Oh, but this is not a time for tears.” Her words became a whisper. “I can’t believe it’s you.”

“Yes. It’s me.” For a moment they stared at each other.

Tony coughed.

Alex jumped and remembered his companion. He gestured to him. “Oh, yes this is my friend Tony.”

She shook his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Alex has told me wonderful things about this house.”

“I’m glad he had happy memories.” An odd expression crossed her face, but was quickly hidden. She turned to Alex. “Where is your mother?”

“Mariella took her into the kitchen.”

“Good, I’ll go and see her.”

“She’s in the kitchen.”

“Yes, you said that.”

Tony gave him a strange look; he ignored it. “Right.”

She raced past him then stopped and turned. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even introduce myself. I made a terrible assumption. I doubt you remember me. There are four of us and I just assumed you knew who I was.”

“I know who you are, Isabella,” Alex said softly, his gaze piercing hers. “I remember you very well. You’re not like your sisters.”

Tony winced and Alex mentally kicked himself, but Isabella didn’t take any offense. “Yes, that’s true. It makes me unforgettable, right?”

Alex shook his head. “I didn’t mean —”

“I’m surprised you remember me at all. I was a lot older than you.”

“Five years.”

“Really? You’re the same age as Gabby? It felt like a lot more back then.” She shrugged. “But now you’re all grown up.” She turned. “Come on. Let’s go into the kitchen. My sisters will be thrilled once they know who you are.” She raced down the stairs.

Alex watched her go.

Tony picked up a picture then bent the curling corners back to get a full view. It was a photograph taken years ago of the four sisters in front of the house. “What was that all about? It’s not like you to lose your cool.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just didn’t expect anyone up here. That’s all.”

“So what’s so special about this room?”

Alex shoved a hand in his pocket and glanced around at the worn desk and chair, the area rug unraveling at the seams and a large collection of boxes crowded in one corner. “I used to escape up here when Mom was working.” He pointed. “From that window I could see people come and go. They used to have a lot of guests and I’d make faces at them without them noticing.” He turned and ran his hand along the wall. “And I had a secret panel.” He knocked on the wall until he heard something hollow, then slid the panel to the side. “Amazing it’s still here.”

Tony came up behind him. “What is it?”

“A little hole in the wall I found. I used to hide things inside it. I left behind things such as playing cards, candy, rocks, string, keys.”

“Keys?”

“I liked the thought of owning something that could unlock something else. I was always impressed with people who had a lot of keys. To me it meant they owned a lot of stuff and I wanted to own a lot of stuff one day, too.”

“Now you do.”

He picked up an old silver-colored key and turned it in his hand. “And Izzy used to find keys for me and leave them on the desk along with a snack to eat.” He began to smile as he remembered. “She’d also leave a note with no words on it and just a question mark because sometimes we would imagine what the different keys opened. She was really imaginative. She used to…” He abruptly stopped.

“She used to what?”

Alex tossed the key back into the box, it made a loud ping as it hit the sides. “I don’t remember,” he said and closed the panel, sealing any more questions about his past. “So that’s why I liked this room. It was a place to get away.”

“Nice.”

Alex headed for the door. “We’d better go before they come looking for us.”

Tony nodded, then watched his friend go. He stared at the photograph once more and flashed a sly grin. A man of much older years, Tony didn’t miss much and saw more than Alex would have wanted him to. “I think I’m beginning to see why this house means so much to you,” he said.

I
sabella didn’t go to the kitchen immediately. Instead, she darted into one of the rooms and shut the door. She sagged against it trying to recover from the shock of seeing Alex again. She knew she shouldn’t feel this way, but she couldn’t keep her hands from trembling. He looked the same, yet something was wrong. The man she’d just seen was nothing like the young boy she’d known.

She briefly closed her eyes and cringed remembering the way she’d thrown herself into his arms. It was clear the man “little Lex” had become did not appreciate such familiarity. But how could she have expected him to? They had all changed.

How many years had it been since she’d last seen him sitting on the front steps as his mother offered a tearful farewell? Little Sophia had sat beside him with her hand resting on his knee. She remembered walking down the steps and standing in front of him.

“Aren’t you going to say goodbye?” she asked.

“No,” he said.

“Very well then, I guess we aren’t as good friends as I thought.”

He mumbled something.

“What?”

He lifted a gaze filled with rage and tears. “I said I’ll miss you.” He turned away.

“I’ll miss you, too.”

“Will you miss me?” Sophia asked.

Isabella kissed her forehead. “Very much.”

Alex looked down at his shoes. “They’ll all be sorry one day.”

Isabella frowned. “Who are
they?
”

Before he could reply, Velma said, “Bye, Izzy.”

Isabella hugged her. “Please keep in touch. Even if it’s just a holiday card. We’d love to know what you’re up to.”

Velma promised she would, then Isabella watched them pile into their Volkswagen and drive away.

Isabella pushed herself from the door, trying to escape the memory. She’d missed them more than she’d expected. They’d been a big part of her life and she hadn’t wanted to lose them. She’d waited months for a letter to arrive to tell her they’d settled and what they were up to, but it never came. She never expected to see them again. Why had they come back? Had he come back to make them sorry? Based on the information the Realtor had told them, the new owner was very rich and influential. With his newfound power and wealth, which usually came with a higher social standing, he could make a lot of people very unhappy. Isabella shook her head. She was reading too much into an awkward moment. Just because he didn’t remember her well didn’t mean he was there to cause trouble.

Isabella walked into the kitchen expecting to hear the raised voices of surprise and reunion, but instead, she heard the quiet murmur of pleasant strangers. Curious, she peeked around the corner and saw Mrs. Carlton and Sophia sitting primly at the table. Alex and his friend Tony stood by the door, while Mariella profusely apologized for not recognizing him with all the pathos of a staged drama. “Again Mr. Carlton, I’m
so
sorry for the confusion. I hope you can forgive me.”

The look she sent him offered him no choice, and he graciously responded with a nod of acceptance. Isabella watched his face. Now that she had peeled away the film of memory, she saw the reality of the man who now owned their home. He had a handsome face, which was unnervingly void of any true emotion: It looked as though a painter had created a magnificent portrait without putting any feeling in each brush stroke. Much like Mariella, he knew the power of his looks and used them to his advantage. She could imagine him putting people at ease with a smile that should’ve put them on guard.

Isabella shifted her gaze to Mrs. Carlton, who she recalled with fondness. She was now dressed in an expensive tailored suit and Isabella decided that she would approach the older woman with caution. She smiled in loving remembrance when she looked at her daughter, little Sophia, who in the past was always getting scolded for getting dirty. Now she sat elegantly in a peach cashmere blouse and dark wool trousers, her hair artfully arranged in curls falling around a slender face with a pert nose and wide hazel eyes. She had her brother’s good looks, but more warmth, and provided an obvious contrast to their shabby kitchen.

The tables had turned and Isabella knew the Carltons may not look on the Duvalls with kindness. Although Isabella had loved her mother, Caroline Duvall had been known for her grace and elegance, not for her kindness. Mrs. Carlton would see a faded image of the daughters she’d once dressed for fine high-society parties and events; daughters of a woman who had been stingy with pay but generous with work. They were not grand ladies now, and they were at their mercy. They had six months before they would be out of their lives again.

No wonder Alex had looked at her with distant pity. Like others, he must have been surprised to have to admit she had not developed
any
of the Duvall beauty. Isabella nodded. Now that she had assessed the situation, she was ready to proceed. For some unknown reason, she feared that Alex might not make her sisters aware of their former acquaintance. She would.

Isabella pushed opened the kitchen door and walked up to Mrs. Carlton with her hand outstretched. “Mrs. Carlton, it’s a pleasure to see you again.” The older woman only stared at her stunned, leaving Isabella’s hand hanging in the air with nothing to grasp. She patted her shoulder instead. “You haven’t changed.” She turned to Sophia. “And little Sophia. You’re beautiful. Of course, good looks run in the family.”

Mariella stared at her sister, appalled. “Isabella, what is wrong with you? What are you talking about?”

Velma blinked, wringing her hands in her lap. “You remember us?”

“Yes,” Isabella said, wondering why she felt on the verge of tears. “I’ve never forgotten you. I can see why you were too busy to write.”

Velma jumped up from her seat and pulled Isabella into her arms. “Oh my darling girl. How I’ve missed you.”

Isabella met Velma’s fierce hug with the same emotion, blinking back tears as her fears ebbed. Mrs. Carlton hadn’t changed. She was still the kind, generous spirit she’d loved years ago. The one who had soothed her ego when her mother’s harsh words had hurt her, the one who had added a “special touch” — whether it be a layer of silk, or an embroidered hem — to any dress she made for her. “I can’t believe it’s you.” Isabella turned to Sophia. “You probably don’t remember me, but give me a hug anyway.”

Sophia shyly hugged her, then said, “I do remember you a little bit.”

“You used to follow your brother around everywhere.” Isabella glanced up at Alex, his intense dark eyes sent a cold chill through her. It was clear that he was
not
in the mood for memories. She swallowed and stepped away. “Well…” she said lamely.

Mariella rested her hands on her hips. “What is going on?”

Isabella maintained a light tone to combat her sister’s sharp one. “Mariella. You remember Mrs. Carlton, right?”

She sent the older woman a cursory glance. “Am I supposed to?”

Her tone wavered. “Yes. Mrs. Carlton used to work for Mom as a seamstress, remember?” She nodded at Alex not wanting to meet his eyes again. “And Alex used to run errands and sometimes Sophia would stay with Daniella.” She turned to her youngest sister. “You two would play together. Of course you were too young to remember.” In an attempt to fill the sudden silence, Isabella said, “And this is Alex’s friend, Tony.”

Tony smiled. The sisters nodded then dismissed him.

“I don’t believe it,” Gabby said. “It
is
them.” She pointed a finger at Alex. “You stole my bicycle.”

Alex rested against the wall looking bored. “I borrowed it.”

“You’re supposed to return things you borrow.”

A faint smile touched his mouth. “I could buy you a new one.”

“Good.”

Mariella looked at them stunned. “But it can’t be. They were poor.”

Isabella hit her sister’s arm hard.

She coughed and smiled. “It’s a delight to see you again. Once more, I apologize about the back door. I thought you were the movers.”

“We didn’t want too many things in the house just yet,” Velma said. “Not until…” Her voice faded away.

“Yes,” Isabella said, smoothing over the awkward silence. “Thank you. That was very considerate.” When Mariella sniffed, Isabella pinched her. “Don’t worry, we’ll be out of your way soon enough.”

“No need to rush,” Alex said. He said the words, but Isabella didn’t believe him. She turned and looked directly into his eyes.

“Where will you be staying?” she asked.

“I’m renting a room in town. I’ll be busy over the next couple of weeks.”

“Doing what?” Daniella asked.

“In two weeks I’m holding a fundraiser for the local nursing home. It will be an upscale event.” His gaze fell on each of them then stopped at Isabella. “I hope to see you all there.”

“What do you mean we can’t go?” Mariella asked the next day as the three sisters looked over the invitation. “He gave us four tickets.”

“Will you please be sensible?” Isabella said with a tired sigh.

“I haven’t attended a party like this in years. It’s over two hundred dollars a plate and being held at the Montpelier Mansion. It’s my chance to be discovered.”

“And I’d like to go,” Gabby added. “It’s been such a long time since we’ve gone to something like this. Oh, imagine all the food they’ll have.”

Mariella winked. “And the men.”

Daniella nodded. “It will be so much fun.”

Mariella lifted the invitation. “There is no reason why we shouldn’t go. We have the tickets.”

Isabella shook her head. “But we don’t have dresses.”

“We could charge them.”

“We have enough debt as it is.”

“You could think of something,” Gabby said. “You always think of something.”

Isabella bit her lip then slowly said, “I could make you —”

“That’s it,” Mariella cut in. “Whatever you say, I think it’s a perfect idea. You could make our dresses. You’re an excellent seamstress. I don’t know where or how you learned to sew, but you’re good at it. Simple-chic will work. It will be like getting our dresses made in the old days.”

“But I didn’t say —”

“Oh, Izzy, you’re the best.”

They all kissed her on the cheek, then left planning for the big event.

Isabella sat at the kitchen table, burying her head in her hands. Outside the leafless trees clapped their branches together in an unheard breeze. She listened to the creak of footsteps above her. It was in quiet moments such as these that the house seemed to speak. In the tranquil hours as sunlight melted into the inky black shadows of night, or when the fingers of dawn brushed the shadows away, the house groaned and moaned as if it were an old woman with a story to share.

Isabella didn’t care to listen. She knew all the stories and didn’t like any of them. The walls in the solarium reminded her of the night her father told them he had leukemia. The floorboards would gossip about his last days as he stared out the window, half the weight he used to be. The living room would recall her mother’s diagnosis given over the phone, while the master bedroom remembered her last words, spoken clearly and firmly as death slowly stole her breath away.

She could still hear the echo of her own footsteps as she paced back and forth in the corridor. She remembered Daniella calling out in the night with a bad dream, and Gabby sneaking up the stairs with food she’d stashed in her pockets because dinner wasn’t enough.

Isabella glanced around the kitchen’s peeling wallpaper and old stove. She couldn’t wait to be rid of the burden of the house. Alex could gladly take it from them. She touched the invitation and stared at it pensively. Her sisters deserved a little fun. But how could she manage to come up with three dresses in two weeks? And not just any dresses. Gowns. She slowly raised her head and looked out into the evening. They deserved to go. There had to be a way. She thought for a moment then tapped the table. She had the perfect idea.

The next day she drove two hours to a designer consignment shop she’d visited several years earlier. Her plan was to find three dresses or gowns to alter. Although it was quite a distance, Isabella knew that she couldn’t risk buying something in town that others could recognize.

The Duvall reputation was at stake. She searched through the rack of dresses with the personalities of her sisters in mind. Mariella would want something that would draw attention to her, Gabby would like something more traditional and Daniella would like something nice and pretty. After a three-hour search, Isabella had all the dresses she knew would be perfect.

Back at home, she went into the old sewing room. Because it had been several years since anyone had used it, dust and cobwebs had taken hold. With only two weeks left to alter and remake the dresses, she got to work right away. Isabella spent the night dusting, cleaning and organizing the sewing machine and three wire dress forms hidden in the closet determined to make her sisters’ dreams come true.

Mrs. Lyons lived alone in a grand house that had belonged to her dead husband no one had ever seen — and most doubted had ever existed. She had a Siberian mix cat, named Nicodemus, and a companion, Ms. Timmons. She was a formidable woman of seventy-three years who liked to complain of imaginary ailments, but became a martyr when the pain was real.

Although her hair was completely white, she continued to dye it the black it had been when she was younger. The contrasting color only made her pale white skin look almost ghostly, while sharp green eyes were deeply set in a thin, narrow face. She didn’t mind growing older or the solitude of her life and welcomed her quiet existence most days, but she enjoyed bossing people around and grew restless when she didn’t have the opportunity to do so.

After a weekend of having only Ms. Timmons and her cook to harass, Mrs. Lyons looked eagerly out her window and caught sight of Isabella. She watched with growing anticipation, as Isabella gingerly maneuvered the piles of snow on the side of the road, and patches of treacherous black ice covering the sidewalk.

Mrs. Lyons frowned. Such a dull, ordinary girl, she thought staring at the large overcoat, limp brown scarf and gloves Isabella wore. But she hadn’t expected Caroline to loan out any of her other treasures. Isabella suited her needs, she was efficient and punctual. But for a woman who enjoyed finding fault in others and provoking them, Isabella’s patient nature became vexing at times.