"There. Perfect," she says.
I look at my reflection in the wall mirror. Black suit, white lapel to match my mask perfectly. I now have the same shoe size as my dad, so I polished his old dress shoes.
"I don't look like me."
She meets my eyes in the mirror. "You look like him. Beautiful, strong, kind. Too good for me."
She looks away and then turns to me, pretending to straighten the jacket.
"I don't know how to do this, Ash. I don't know how to be the stepmother you deserve, your friend."
Victoria's eyes redden, and a lump forms in my throat because I can feel the monumental change that's about to happen.
"I left my home when I was very young and had to fend for myself. When I met your dad, I thought I was in a fairy tale. Before him, I was tired and cynical, but he changed all that. I wanted to be like him so bad. Then I moved here, and your mother's presence was everywhere. Even if there were only a few pictures on the walls, I could still feel her. I should have become a friend, should have let her guide me, but instead, I was jealous. I was jealous of her ghost, even though your dad loved me with everything he had. I know that. And I was jealous of the relationship he had with you. I thought when the twins were born that feeling would go away, but it didn't because, while the four of you became a family, even though the girls were too young to remember, I still felt like an outsider. The twins worship the ground you walk on, and just like I wanted to be good like your father, I also want to be good like you."
There are no words that can explain how it feels to hear our story from her perspective. I was a teenager when she moved in. How much trouble did I cause unintentionally? I remember not wanting my dad to remarry. Could it be that Victoria and I crashed on this road many years ago, and have been driving side by side, each unwilling to take a U-turn to pick up the stray pieces left behind from the crash?
When I had fights with my friends at school, my dad used to say even bad people were good at some point, so maybe they can be good again. I used to think it was his way of making me feel better and make up with my friends, but now I see he was also talking about me. We all have the power to be good and bad.
Without thinking too much about it, I wrap my arms around Victoria and pull her into a hug.
She tightens her arms around me, and we stand there waiting for the pain of the past to wash over us so we can step together into the future.
A car honks outside. It's nine pm. Time to get to the ball.
Victoria and I withdraw from our hug and smile at each other.
"Have fun," she says. "And good luck. If you're anything like your dad, that award is as good as yours."
I'm not sure Victoria understands how important it is that I hear those words, but there will be time for us to talk things through. We're heading in the same direction now, and that's all that matters.
A second honk gets me moving. I wave at the driver to wait while I pick up my mask and my wallet.
"Good evening," the driver says, opening the door for me. "My name is Mr. Gooseman, and I'll be your driver for this evening. I am at your orders until midnight on the dot, and not one minute longer."
I want to say I'm not going tothatkind of ball, and I'm not Cinderella, but something tells me he wouldn't appreciate the joke.
Mr. Gooseman must have some kind of magical powers because despite the recent snowfall, we pull up by the hotel in no time.
He comes out of the car to open the door for me. I'm not sure why the formality, but this was Nicki's gift, so I'm going to enjoy it and then laugh about it with her when she's back from her trip with Mia.
The flashes from photographers are almost blinding, so I run up the staircase where I almost run into a man wearing a stripy suit with his navy colored mask resting on top of his head.
"I'm so sorry," I say. "I didn't mean to run into you. All those photographers are insane."
"Only when you're not used to it," he says, and then continues walking the opposite way.
I follow the signs to the ballroom and show my invite to the woman at the door.
"Welcome, Mr. Cinder. We've been expecting you. If you can put your mask on and follow me, please."
We enter the ballroom, and it's unlike anything I've ever seen. If the twins were here, they'd be calling this place fantabulous or glittertastic, or some other made-up word. I'm not sure I'm allowed to take photos of the room, so while I follow the woman, I take my phone out and discretely take a couple of shots to show the girls. I hope they're not out of focus, but there's no way to tell until later.
We stop on the other side of the room by the tallest Christmas tree I've ever seen indoors.
"If you could wait here, Mr. Cinder. Mr. Blackwood would like to meet you to talk about your book. He's just finishing up with someone and will meet you here."
"Okay, thank you."
