Read Online This Is Me From Now On by Barbara Dee - Free Book Online Page B

It occurred to me that one of those rooms belonged to Francesca, but really, they were all so blank, you couldn’t even tell which one.
    Finally Francesca sighed. “She’s probably in Aunt Sam’s boudoir. Which is strictly off limits to rodents, but Topaz is kind of a free spirit. Are your feet clean?”
    â€œMy
feet
?”
    â€œSorry to ask, but Aunt Sam’s a bit compulsive about herroom.” She opened the door very slowly, and we tiptoed in.
    And I gasped. I mean, literally
gasped.
    Because it was the most amazing room I’d ever seen, like a contest in one of Lily’s magazines: “Enter Our Sweepstakes and Win the Bedroom of Your Dreams!”
    Samantha Pattison had a gigantic canopy bed. With an actual canopy. Not some dorky Hello Kitty canopy, either—this one was deep purple and gauzy, with matching deep purple sheets and, like, a million rose silk pillows. She had a cream-colored vanity with a chair—a throne, really—covered in that same gorgeous rose color, and a curvy-legged writing desk facing rose-curtained windows. And hanging from the ceiling was an enormous crystal chandelier, which was going
plinka plinka plinka
from a light perfumy breeze.
    â€œOh. My. God,” I said, stepping carefully on the velvety cream-colored carpeting. “Whoa, Francesca.”
    â€œStaggering, huh?” She yanked me inside. “Look at this.”
    She led me through Samantha’s private bathroom, which had floor-to-ceiling mirrors and a circular whirlpool bath and perfectly folded rose-colored towels all monogrammed . And then before I realized we’d even left thebathroom, we were in another room—which wasn’t even a room.
    It was a closet. I swear: a giant room-size
closet.
With racks and racks of clothes—dresses, gowns, nightgowns, you name it, some of them in colors I’d never seen except in Lily’s magazines. Also fabrics: satin, velvet, lamé. Against one wall was a tower—sort of a bookcase, actually—full of shoes. (A lot of them were super-fancy, so it was obvious where Francesca got her stilettos.) Stacked up against the other wall were, like, twenty huge wicker baskets with handwritten labels: gloves. wraps. clutches. sarongs.
Sarongs?
I tried to remember if I’d come across any
sarongs
in Lily’s magazines, but I was too gaga to even think straight.
    â€œWhy does she have so much stuff?” I managed to ask.
    â€œOh, you know,” said Francesca vaguely. She lifted a coppery gown from the rack and held it against herself. But it only came up to her shins, and didn’t make it all the way across her waist. “She’s been in lots of plays. And soaps, of course. And she knows a lot of costume people, obviously.”
    She started dancing around in big loopy circles. “Evie, can you imagine genius Espee wearing something like
this
?”
    â€œNo, I can’t,” I said quickly. “Of course not.”
    â€œMe neither. Alas.” She re-hung-up the dress, not noticing that one shoulder slid right off the hanger. “Wouldn’t it be so epic if she did, though? Wonder what Theo Rafferty would say. Oh, wait a sec, look at this.”
    She pulled down a wicker basket labeled VINTAGE . Inside was one giant tangle of silver chains and stretchy bracelets and earrings.
    â€œOh, help,” said Francesca, looking embarrassed. “What a disaster.”
    â€œWhat happened? It looks like a hurricane hit it.”
    â€œProbably the rabbits.”
    â€˜The
rabbits
? You mean they come in here and play dress-up?”
    She sighed. “Okay, it was me. I was looking for something, and I lost track. So help me fix it, okay?”
    We sat on the floor untangling what we could. Francesca’s nails were longer than mine, so she was better at it, and the way she was able to free the snarls by rolling the chains in her fingertips made me think she had done this before. Finally