“I… I know.”
I can’t bear this.
“I have to go,” I mutter, and hurry back to the personal shopping department.
I can’t win. Whatever I do. Either way, I’m going to let down a whole load of people.
As Amy wriggles into the first dress, I stand, staring blankly at the floor, my heart thumping hard. I’ve been in trouble before. I’ve been stupid before. But never on this level. Never so large, so expensive, so important…
“I like this,” says Amy, staring at herself critically. “But is there enough cleavage?”
“Er…” I look at her. It’s a black chiffon dress, slashed practically to the navel. “I think so. But we could always have it altered…”
“Oh, I don’t have time for that!” says Amy. “I’m only in New York for one more day. We go on vacation tomorrow and then we’re moving to Atlanta. That’s why I came out shopping. They’re packing up the apartment and it’s driving me nuts.”
“I see,” I say absently.
“My boyfriend adores my body,” she says smugly as she clambers out of it. “But then, his wife never bothered with her appearance at all. Ex-wife, I should say. They’re getting a divorce.”
“Right,” I say politely, handing her a white and silver sheath dress.
“I can’t believe he put up with her for so long. She’s this completely jealous harridan. I’m having to take legal action!” Amy steps into the sheath dress. “You know, she mailed me this really offensive letter. It was like a list of completely insulting stuff about me! Our lawyer says we have an excellent case.”
That sounds familiar. I look up, my brain starting to tweak. “You’re sure it was her who sent it?”
“Oh yes! I mean, she signed it and everything. Plus it was definitely her writing. William recognized it.”
I stare at her, my skin prickling. “What… what did you say your boyfriend’s name was?”
“William.” Her lip curls scornfully. “She called him Bill.”
Oh my God.
It is. It’s the blond intern. Right here in front of me.
OK. Just… keep smiling. Don’t let her know you suspect anything.
Inside I’m hot with outrage. This is the woman Laurel was cast aside for? This stupid, tacky airhead?
“That’s why we’re moving to Atlanta,” Amy says, examining her reflection complacently. “We want to start a new life together, so William asked the firm for a transfer. You know, discreetly. We don’t want the old witch following us.” She frowns. “Now, I like this one better.”
She bends down farther and I freeze. Hang on. She’s wearing a pendant. A pendant with a… is that green stone an emerald?
“Amy, I just have to make a call,” I say casually. “Keep trying on the dresses!” And I slide out of the room.
When I eventually get through to Laurel’s office, her assistant, Gina, tells me she’s in a meeting with American Airlines and can’t be disturbed.
“Please,” I say. “Get her out. It’s important.”
“So is American Airlines,” says Gina. “You’ll have to wait.”
“But you don’t understand! It really is crucial!”
“Becky, a new skirt length from Prada is not crucial,” says Gina a little wearily. “Not in the world of airplane leasing.”
“It’s not clothes!” I say indignantly — then hesitate for a second, wondering how much Laurel confides in Gina. “It’s Amy Forrester,” I say at last in a lowered voice. “You know who I mean?”
“Yes, I know,” says Gina in a voice that makes me thinks she knows even more than I do. “What about her?”
“I have her.”
“You have her? What do you—”
“She’s in my fitting room right now!” I glance behind me to make sure no one can hear. “Gina, she’s wearing this pendant with an emerald in it! I’m sure it’s Laurel’s grandmother’s! The one the police couldn’t find.”
There’s a long pause.
“OK,” says Gina at last. “I’ll get Laurel out of the meeting. She’ll probably come right over. Just don’t let… her leave.”
“I won’t. Thanks, Gina.”
I put down the phone and stand still for a moment, thinking. Then I head back to my fitting room, trying to look as natural as possible.
“So!” I say breezily as I go in. “Let’s get back to trying on dresses! And remember, Amy, just take your time over each one. As long as you like. We can take all day, if we need to—”
“I don’t need to try on any more,” says Amy, turning round in a tight red sequined dress. “I’ll take this one.”
“What?” I say blankly.
“It’s great! Look, it fits me perfectly.” She does a little twirl, admiring herself in the mirror.
“But we haven’t even started yet!”
“So what? I’ve made my decision. I want this one.” She looks at her watch. “Besides, I’m in a bit of a hurry. Can you unzip me, please?”
“Amy…” I force a smile. “I really think you should try on some others before you make a decision.”
“I don’t need to try any others! You have a very good eye.”
“No, I don’t! It looks terrible!” I say without thinking, and she gives me a strange look. “I mean… there was a wonderful pink dress I wanted to see on you…” I grab for the hanger. “Just imagine that on you! Or… or this halter neck…”
Amy Forrester gives me an impatient look. “I’m taking this one. Please, will you help me out of it?”
What can I do? I can’t force her to stay.
I glance surreptitiously at my watch. Laurel’s office is only a block or two away. She should be here any minute.
“Please, will you help me out of it?” she repeats, her voice hardening.
“Yes!” I say flusteredly. “All right!”
I reach for the zip of the sequined red dress and start to pull it down. Then I have a sudden thought.
“Actually,” I say. “Actually, it’ll be easier to get it off if I pull it over your head—”
“OK,” says Amy Forrester impatiently. “Whatever.”
I undo the zip a tiny bit more, then tug the tight-fitting dress up over her hips and right over her head.
Ha! She’s trapped! The stiff red fabric covers her face completely, but the rest of her is clad only in underwear and high heels. She looks like a Barbie doll crossed with a Christmas cracker.
“Hey. It’s gotten stuck.” She waves one of her arms fruitlessly, but it’s pinned to her head by the dress.
“Really?” I exclaim innocently. “Oh dear. They do that sometimes.”
“Well, get me out!” She takes a couple of steps, and I back away nervously in case she grabs my arm. I feel like I’m six years old and playing blindman’s bluff at a birthday party.
“Where are you?” comes a furious muffled voice. “Get me out!”
“I’m just… trying to…” Gingerly I give a little tug at the dress. “It’s really stuck,” I say apologetically. “Maybe if you bent over and wriggled…”
Come on, Laurel. Where are you? I open my fitting room and have a quick glance out, but nothing.
“OK! I’m getting somewhere!”
I look up and feel a plunge of dismay. Amy’s hand has appeared out of nowhere and somehow she’s managed to grasp the zip with two manicured nails. “Can you help me pull the zipper down?”
“Erm… I can try…”
I take hold of the zip and start pulling it in the opposite direction from the way she’s tugging.
“It’s stuck!” she says in frustration.
