Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-two

Amy sat in her robe on the faded blue vanity chair and slid open the makeup drawer. She was never one for wearing much makeup, but a Christmas party required a little bit more care. She began to rub the foundation across her face. The lady at Saks had said it would smooth her complexion, but all she saw was how the spiderweb lines around her eyes caught the beige cream in clumps of obvious age. She leaned closer to the mirror, stared into her own eyes. She flicked on the milk-glass lamp with the lacy shade, looked closer. Yes, there was another line in her forehead, and the age spot next to her eye—it looked like a melted freckle—had grown larger.

The eyelash curler stuck on her lashes, and she cursed the entire beauty routine. When she was done applying makeup, she stepped back from the mirror, satisfied she’d done all she could with her face, then walked to the bed where her dress lay. She picked it up and shook it out, slipped it over her head, then walked to the full-length mirror in the armoire in front of the bed. She pulled her hair up and let it fall. Down, she would wear it down. She shook her head, vaguely satisfied with her final appearance.

She walked into the foyer as the doorbell rang, its chime muffled by the excessive Christmas decorations. She glanced up at the grandfather clock: five after seven—someone was early. The red-and-green-plaid engraved invitation had said seven thirty, not seven. She glanced around the foyer for Phil, but didn’t see him. She wanted him to answer the door; she wasn’t yet in the mood to entertain. She just needed twenty-five more minutes.

But there was no ignoring the face that peered through the door—staring at her in cut-glass octagons of eyes and facial features. Damn.

Amy pasted on a teeth-baring smile and opened the door.

Eliza, in all her glamorous glory, stood on the front porch. Her full-length red coat fell to the ground, her hair spilling over the crimson shoulders in a platinum waterfall.

“Oh, Eliza, it’s so good to see you. You’re early.”

“I thought it would take longer by car. You live a little . . . closer than I thought. I’m sorry I’m so early. It was too cold to sit in the car.”

“Oh, that’d be crazy. Come in. Come in.” Amy stepped aside and swept her hand across the foyer in what she hoped was a welcoming motion.

Eliza stepped in and stomped her feet, as if there were snow on her pale gray pumps.

“Let me take your coat.” Amy held out her hand.

“Thank you.” Eliza attempted to unbutton her coat and her hands shook, unable to maneuver the large fastenings.