want to help the campaign.” She stared at them innocently.
“Yeah, that’s the reason you want to be in a magazine,” Hayden said wryly.
Izzie didn’t have time to wonder what Mira’s real reason was, because two seconds later, the front door slammed so hard, their coffee mugs shook, and Connor bounded in. He dropped a pile of mail on the table. “Cookies!”
Aunt Maureen handed him one and started sorting through the mail. When she came to an oversize, thick creamenvelope, she stopped. Before Izzie could figure out what the invite was for (an invitation for a spinning-class-for-asthma-relief fund-raiser had come the day before), Mira snatched the envelope from her mom. The two of them ran their fingers along the calligraphy that spelled out her name. Then Mira carefully broke the seal, pulled out an invitation, and shrieked.
“I’ve officially been invited to cotillion!” She let herself collapse on the island in relief.
“Was there really any doubt?” Hayden asked.
Mira didn’t answer him. Instead, she waved the invite in Izzie’s face. “Look!”
Izzie took the invitation and read it herself.
Mirabelle Monroe is cordially invited, after three years of service and hard work, to participate in this year’s cotillion class and make her debut at Emerald Cove Castle on the Cliffs on Saturday, December 13, at 7 PM. All cotillion members are expected to participate in this fall’s classes, which consist of both etiquette and dance….
Izzie stopped reading. “
This
is what you’re excited about? Another dance? Doesn’t this town get tired of parties?” It never ceased to amaze her how many bashes EC had and forsuch silly reasons. Last week, they attended a garden party to celebrate the new park playground.
“Cotillion is a big deal.” Mira took the invitation back before Izzie could get a chocolate smudge from her cookie on it. “Why does no one get that?”
Aunt Maureen hugged Mira. “I do. It feels like only yesterday I was taking you to your first precotillion dance class. I’m so excited for you, sweetie.”
“What makes this dance different from the nine trillion other black-tie events EC has? The cheesy white gloves and bridal gowns?” Izzie asked her.
“No. I mean yes,” Mira said, getting flustered. “White gloves are cool! I’m sure Kate, Prince William’s wife, wears them for official functions.”
“But why do
you
need to wear them? You’re not a princess,” Izzie reminded her.
“Shh!” Hayden put a finger to his lips. “I’m not sure anyone told her that.”
“Why did Mira get two letters?” Connor held up a second large cream envelope that had been buried in the unopened mail. Izzie could see her name from clear across the kitchen counter and she practically spit out her iced tea.
“No way,” Izzie said, backing away as if Connor were waving a ticking time bomb. “Nooooo! Send it back! I am not going to cotillion.” Her eyes looked crazy as she pleaded with Aunt Maureen. “How could I get invited? I didn’t even sign up.”
Aunt Maureen looked sheepish. “I signed you up. I submitted your name back in August, when you first got here,” she explained before Izzie could freak out. “I didn’t think you’d get in this late, but if the Junior League picked you, with no prior training, then they must accept you as a member of this community and our family.”
Izzie snorted. “The only thing they accept is that they’re stuck with me.”
“That’s not true,” Aunt Maureen said. “Everyone knows you single-handedly planned the first Social Butterflies event of the season. You’re a natural Junior Leaguer waiting to happen. They obviously realize that.”
“Me? A Junior League member? No way.” Izzie shook her head. “I’d rather eat bark than sit at a meeting with those Southern belles. I’ve heard them at parties,” Izzie told the others. “They think the town’s Founders Day is more important than the Fourth of July.”
Aunt Maureen
“Yeah, that’s the reason you want to be in a magazine,” Hayden said wryly.
Izzie didn’t have time to wonder what Mira’s real reason was, because two seconds later, the front door slammed so hard, their coffee mugs shook, and Connor bounded in. He dropped a pile of mail on the table. “Cookies!”
Aunt Maureen handed him one and started sorting through the mail. When she came to an oversize, thick creamenvelope, she stopped. Before Izzie could figure out what the invite was for (an invitation for a spinning-class-for-asthma-relief fund-raiser had come the day before), Mira snatched the envelope from her mom. The two of them ran their fingers along the calligraphy that spelled out her name. Then Mira carefully broke the seal, pulled out an invitation, and shrieked.
“I’ve officially been invited to cotillion!” She let herself collapse on the island in relief.
“Was there really any doubt?” Hayden asked.
Mira didn’t answer him. Instead, she waved the invite in Izzie’s face. “Look!”
Izzie took the invitation and read it herself.
Mirabelle Monroe is cordially invited, after three years of service and hard work, to participate in this year’s cotillion class and make her debut at Emerald Cove Castle on the Cliffs on Saturday, December 13, at 7 PM. All cotillion members are expected to participate in this fall’s classes, which consist of both etiquette and dance….
Izzie stopped reading. “
This
is what you’re excited about? Another dance? Doesn’t this town get tired of parties?” It never ceased to amaze her how many bashes EC had and forsuch silly reasons. Last week, they attended a garden party to celebrate the new park playground.
“Cotillion is a big deal.” Mira took the invitation back before Izzie could get a chocolate smudge from her cookie on it. “Why does no one get that?”
Aunt Maureen hugged Mira. “I do. It feels like only yesterday I was taking you to your first precotillion dance class. I’m so excited for you, sweetie.”
“What makes this dance different from the nine trillion other black-tie events EC has? The cheesy white gloves and bridal gowns?” Izzie asked her.
“No. I mean yes,” Mira said, getting flustered. “White gloves are cool! I’m sure Kate, Prince William’s wife, wears them for official functions.”
“But why do
you
need to wear them? You’re not a princess,” Izzie reminded her.
“Shh!” Hayden put a finger to his lips. “I’m not sure anyone told her that.”
“Why did Mira get two letters?” Connor held up a second large cream envelope that had been buried in the unopened mail. Izzie could see her name from clear across the kitchen counter and she practically spit out her iced tea.
“No way,” Izzie said, backing away as if Connor were waving a ticking time bomb. “Nooooo! Send it back! I am not going to cotillion.” Her eyes looked crazy as she pleaded with Aunt Maureen. “How could I get invited? I didn’t even sign up.”
Aunt Maureen looked sheepish. “I signed you up. I submitted your name back in August, when you first got here,” she explained before Izzie could freak out. “I didn’t think you’d get in this late, but if the Junior League picked you, with no prior training, then they must accept you as a member of this community and our family.”
Izzie snorted. “The only thing they accept is that they’re stuck with me.”
“That’s not true,” Aunt Maureen said. “Everyone knows you single-handedly planned the first Social Butterflies event of the season. You’re a natural Junior Leaguer waiting to happen. They obviously realize that.”
“Me? A Junior League member? No way.” Izzie shook her head. “I’d rather eat bark than sit at a meeting with those Southern belles. I’ve heard them at parties,” Izzie told the others. “They think the town’s Founders Day is more important than the Fourth of July.”
Aunt Maureen
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