Enzo took the book from me and thought for a long moment. “You know, I can make anything happen. Anything at all.”
“Can you make it so I can go home?”
Enzo’s face fell. “Only the Regent can do that.” When Enzo saw I was close to crying again, he added, “ButI can make other things happen. You say you didn’t recognize your grandmother, but what if you experienced the things she did? I could follow her itinerary from her time here, and you would experience some of what she did.”
“You can do that?” I asked as I remembered events from the book. “With the people she knew and everything?”
“Not all but many,” he explained. “The balls, the operas, the special events, and charities are easy to repeat, although some adjustments will need to be made.”
I nodded. It’d been quite a while since Grandma had been here, and many of the people from the book must have passed away. One person topped my list. “Prince Lothaire; is he still alive?”
“King Lothaire is still alive, but I can’t make any promises. He takes running his country very seriously and doesn’t leave often. Why, he hasn’t been to America in over fifty years. Well, I have a lot to do today,” Enzo said, and he went to the door. “I’ll stop by later with updates.”
I nodded, kind of sad I would be alone again with all my thoughts. “What am I supposed to do today?”
“Stylists are coming to help prepare you. The Merrics are always trendsetters. Your stylists will ensure you are making the right decisions.”
I smoothed down my frizzy hair. “You know I might not be staying long enough to be an ‘anyone’ here.”
Enzo shrugged his shoulders. “Give me a little time. I think I can make your stay here, however short, a wonderful experience.”
~*~
A few hours later my stylists, two nondescript women, arrived with an arsenal of products. After showering, I slipped on a fluffy white robe and sat before a mirror in the bathroom. The stylists spoke to me as they trimmed, shellacked, and painted, but I remained quiet. Talking would only bring on the tears again. The women escorted me to the closet and helped me choose a turquoise blue summer dress and strappy pair of heels. I refused to take off Grandma’s ring- not after losing my bag. The ring meant too much, and I vowed to myself to never take it off.
The stylists were proud of their work, but the person in the mirror didn’t look a thing like me. Sure, I looked pretty but more like some airbrushed magazine cover, all curls with no frizz. Any other day, I might have enjoyed looking so nice, but not today. Not without the people I cared about.
Why bother? I thought, kicking off my shoes. I went back to bed. I skipped lunch too. And wrote another letter, this time with more details about how beautiful the place was and how I basically had a mini-pool in my bathroom and a huge closet full of clothes and stylists, sounding much more upbeat than I felt. The letter I wrote for Sasha was more self-pity than anything else. I admitted how lonely I was. I left it on my nightstand and hid under the blanket. When a woman showed up and offered to take me on a tour of the building, I pretended to be sleeping.
Doc visited to check on me and see if I had any questions. “When will Bollard would be back?” I asked. Doc said it might be awhile, even as long as a month. That bit of news was enough to make me break down all over again. Doc pulled me into a hug and let me cry for a long time. He said I could ask all my questions later and for right now I needed more time to sort through my emotions.
Enzo came in during dinner. “You look lovely.”
“Thanks.” I knew that was a lie, that I had cried off all my makeup and that I had wrinkled my dress from lying in bed.
“Well, I have great news for you. I did it.”
“Oh, okay.” I sat on the edge of my bed, an uneaten dinner roll in my hand. “Did what?”
“The Lark has agreed to perform tomorrow night. She’s performing Astor’s Port.”
I stared up at him blankly.
“It was your grandmother’s first opera.”
“Really?” I still felt crummy. I uttered, “When?”
“She’s on tour and is in Boston and is available tomorrow night.”
“What? Tomorrow? Enzo, I’m not ready to go out.”
“It will be spectacular. Besides, we’ll be staying in.” And he went on and on about the program and who would be there and all about flowers while I debated pulling the covers over my head again.
Chapter 9
Bird’s Eye View
My deep gray eyes popped like a steel girder against a white cloud, dark and hypnotizing. I turned my face from left to right, staring at my reflection- the pink of my lips and my hair softly pinned back, a few loose curls framing my face.
Dressed in a creamy white chiffon empire-waist number with a high scoop neck, I pivoted to the side and then back again. I’d never looked so beautiful, not at the prom or ever. I wished I had; there would have been double takes, triples. Mouths would have bobbed open, and I could have had dancing partners out the door, but here, it felt purposeless.
Enzo stood at the door. He wore a black tuxedo with a white scarf draped around his neck. “You are radiant, Princess. The picture of perfection.”
“Thank you; you look debonair.”
“This old thing,” Enzo said, and he took my arm and off we went.
I hadn’t left the room over the past few days, and the corridor felt too crowded and yet, too open for me to be comfortable. I wasn’t up to any of this but another night of crying in my room seemed
