Page 84 of The Bleak Beginning

We make it to town in record time, thanks to Sutton’s lead foot and apparent disregard for speed limits. The quaint streets and charming storefronts match the imposing Gothic architecture of the academy.

“Welcome to the town of Altair,” Sutton announces as we park along a tree-lined avenue. “It’s not much, but it’s the closest bit of civilization we’ve got.”

“I think it’s cute,” I say, taking in everything.

She shrugs. “The tourists seem to love it, and it’s got a picturesque backdrop.” A hint of bitterness hangs in her tone as she speaks.

I overlook her sudden shift in mood, because she’s right. The crystal-clear water stretches out for miles, the waves rolling calmly onto the sandy shore. Sailboats dot the horizon andseagulls glide gracefully above the tide. The bustling town of Altair lies on the opposite side of the road.

“So where to first?” I ask, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the sudden freedom.

Sutton links her arm through mine, steering me down the sidewalk. “There’s this amazing little boutique I think you’ll love. Want to start looking there for dresses?”

“Sure, that sounds great,” I reply, allowing her to guide me. As we walk, I can’t help but marvel at the quaint charm of Altair. The cobblestone streets are lined with storefronts, their awnings fluttering in the gentle breeze. The air is filled with the mingled scents of fresh bread from a nearby bakery and the clean smell of water.

We pass by a group of tourists, their cameras clicking away as they capture the picturesque scenery. I notice a few of them giving us curious glances, and I wonder if they can tell we’re from the university. Do we look different somehow? Or is it just my paranoia talking?

Sutton seems oblivious to the attention, or perhaps she’s just used to it. She strides confidently down the street, her arm still linked with mine.

The bell above the door chimes softly as we enter. The interior is a treasure trove of vintage and modern pieces, racks of dresses in every color imaginable lining the walls. The air is thick with the scent of perfume and fabric.

“Darlings!” A voice trills from behind a curtain of beads. A woman emerges, her dark hair piled atop her head in an elaborate updo. She’s draped in layers of flowing silks, bangles jingling on her wrists. “Sutton, my dear, it’s been too long!”

Sutton grins, releasing my arm to embrace the woman. “Madame Estelle,” she greets her warmly. “How have you been?”

“You know, busy as always. The fall season is upon us, and everyone’s clamoring for the latest styles.” Madame Estelle’sgaze falls on me, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “And who is this lovely creature?”

“This is my new friend, Alex Prescott. She’s in need of a dress for the upcoming ball at the university.”

“A Prescott, you say?” Her eyes go wide in surprise before she claps her hands together, her bangles creating a symphony of tinkling sounds. “Marvelous! I have just the thing. Come, come!”

Madame Estelle ushers us deeper into the boutique, her silk robes swishing as she moves. I follow, slightly overwhelmed by the explosion of color and fabrics surrounding us. She leads us to a secluded corner, where a selection of exquisite dresses hang on an ornate brass rack.

“These just came in,” she says, running her fingers lovingly over the fabric. “I think they’ll suit you perfectly, my dear.”

I reach out to touch one of the dresses, a deep emerald-green gown with delicate silver embroidery. The silk is cool and smooth beneath my fingertips, and I can already imagine how it will feel against my skin.

“It’s beautiful,” I breathe, unable to take my eyes off it.

Sutton shakes her head in disapproval. “It’s a black and white theme.” She looks to the Madame. “We’ll need something else.”

Madame Estelle’s eyes light up with understanding. “Ah, of course! The Annual Masquerade Ball. How could I forget?” She taps a finger against her chin, surveying the rack with a critical eye. “Fear not, my dears. I have just the thing.”

She disappears behind another beaded curtain, the sound of rustling fabric and muttered exclamations drifting out to us. Sutton and I exchange amused glances as we wait.

Moments later, Madame Estelle emerges, her arms laden with an assortment of black and white gowns. She lays them out on a nearby chaise, arranging them with practiced ease.

“Now then,” she says, stepping back to admire her handiwork. “Let’s find our new friend Alex something truly spectacular.”

I step closer to examine the dresses, my fingers trailing over the intricate beadwork and delicate lace. Each gown is a work of art more stunning than the last, a dazzling array of monochromatic elegance. There’s a sleek black number with a daring, thigh-high slit, a flowing white dress adorned with intricate black lace, and several two-toned pieces that blend the colors in mesmerizing patterns.

“Wow,” I whisper, running my fingers over the fabric. “They’re all so beautiful. How am I supposed to choose?”

Madame Estelle chuckles, a knowing glint in her gaze. “The dress chooses you, my dear. You’ll know when you find the right one.”

Sutton nods in agreement, her eyes scanning the selection. “Try them on, Alex. We’ll know it when we see it.”

I nod, feeling a mixture of excitement and nervousness as I select the first dress—a strapless black gown with a textured white design across the bodice. Madame Estelle ushers me behind a velvet screen, her nimble fingers assisting me with the intricate fastenings.

---