Chapter 18: The Dress

Hallie's POV

"You have to look like you'd sell your husband for a parking space," Noelle said.

We were standing in the third dress shop of the afternoon, in front of a mirror, in a gown the color of old pewter.

It had a high neck and long sleeves. It made me look like a very expensive lawyer.

"Cold," Noelle said. "Calculating. The wife from the book, the one every reader hates."

"I'm not cold."

"You're about to be excellent at it."

She put a hand on my shoulder and turned me to face the fitting-room curtain, where Pearl sat in a velvet chair with her cane across her lap.

"Well?" I said.

"One star," Pearl said. "You look like a bank."

"Good!"

"It's a very good one star. It's a marvelous one star, I'd be afraid of you." She tapped the cane. "Take the shoulders in an inch."

The tailor, who loved me, took in the shoulders.

The plan was Noelle's, and Dennis had checked it twice.

At the Founders' Dinner, Rosalind would stand up and lay out her case.

The photographs, the necklace, the petition. She is always thorough.

And I would let her.

I would sit at the table in a dress like a vault and give her every inch of rope.

I would wear the cold face the readers had been promised.

I would not defend myself. I would not cry.

The more certain Rosalind became, the more she would put on the record.

She would do it in front of the board, with her name on every piece.

Then Dennis would stand up.

"You just have to hold your face for one speech," Noelle said. "Can you hold your face?"

"I held it for Tobias for three years."

"That's what I'm counting on."

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