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.