I caught myself smiling at my reflection, admiring how different each dress made me look, seduced by my own sense of myself, all the while thinking, How good of me. What a good friend I am. Because wasn’t I the one, in actuality, doing her a favor? But what favor was I doing? Finally, unable to stand it anymore, I blurted out, “So you said you needed a favor. Surely this can’t be it.”

“Oh, but it is.”

“Oh, but it’s what?”

“Didn’t Tim tell you?”

Tim, who’s Tim, do I know a Tim? “Oh! No, he told me nothing.”

“Well, Philip’s out of town—Singapore or somewhere—and he won’t be back in time.”

“In time for what?”

“The Yuletide Ball. I’m going, and I want the two of you to be my dates.”

I didn’t tell Anna about my own awkward history with the Yuletide Ball. How, during our first year in the Heights, we hadn’t known it was a coveted invitation. We were among the select to receive a handwritten invitation to attend one of several pre-Yuletide Ball dinners in people’s homes. Our neighbors down the street had invited us, but Teddy had just been born, and we forgot to RSVP. The next few years we couldn’t afford it. The one year I really wanted to go, we had even less money. We both knew the problem wasn’t the Yuletide Ball, because it was a great tradition, and it benefited the Kindergarten Society, a most worthy cause. The problem was that we were perpetually broke.

Now, thanks to Bruno, we finally had the funds. But we didn’t get an invitation. Claudia called to apologize, saying there had been a mix-up, somehow we’d been left off the list. Her explanation, a lie, was that so many people had fought over us at the organizational meeting. But they hadn’t fought over us, not in the way they probably fought over Anna Brody and Philip Ashworth. Claudia had simply forgotten to put us on the list, which didn’t really bother me. For once we could afford to go, but at least now I wouldn’t have to worry about what to wear. Instead, we made plans to do what we always did—rent a movie and order in Chinese.

Anna was still trying to make sense of it. “He really didn’t tell you?”

I shook my head.

“You must’ve been wondering what this was all about.”

“Yes,” I said.

“You’d be helping me, and I thought I could help you.” She seemed terribly embarrassed. “Kate, I’m sorry, but when Tim said you wouldn’t want to come because you had nothing to wear . . .”