Page 55 of On Thin Ice

Unfortunately, now that I felt like Cinderella being wooed by the prince, I couldn’t concentrate.

If I’d been working a real job, I would have taken the afternoon off.

Chapter 20

The following Friday couldn’t come fast enough. Although I spent every single night with Sinclair, I’d been afraid to ask about the ballet. I didn’t want to come off as an ignorant yokel, and I also didn’t want to seem overly eager. The few times he mentioned it, he made it sound much like a business transaction.

Soon, it became clear to me that it was. This ballet was an obligation and I would be there because he was expected to have a date. Still, I refused to let that knowledge disappoint me because I would be doing something I’d never done before.

With a man I loved, whether he knew it or not.

And I didn’t know all the details, but I knew I’d be meeting his family—which I assumed were his father, stepmother, and brothers. I got the feeling he wasn’t close to any of them, so it was possible I would also be serving as silent moral support.

As Edna had promised, we had a bit of a girls’ day. Sinclair even told us to “have fun” on his way out of the kitchen that morning, and Edna confessed that she’d done all her Friday work the day before.

Marco had returned on Wednesday with the dress and, as he’d promised, it fit like it had been made for me. I felt beautiful and even a little sexy in it, and I hung it in my closet with the garment cover over it as if it could get dusty in two days. He’d also provided three-inch red heels, close-toed, and a light white shawl, but I didn’t think I’d need it. Even though we were a week into autumn, the weather still felt warm, even in the evening.

On our way to the nail salon in the Honda, Edna asked, “Have you thought about what color you’ll want your nail polish?”

“No.” I was just excited about the experience. I’d never had a mani-pedi. The closest I’d ever come was when a middle school friend and I had painted each other’s fingernails. “Do you have any suggestions?”

“Maybe we can ask the nail tech. We’ll tell her what you’ll be wearing, and she might have a few ideas.”

Almost twenty minutes later, we arrived at a salon. As we got out of the car, Edna said, “There are lots of places closer to the mansion, but I know the people here—and I never have to worry about finding a parking place.”

“True.” In the few times I’d been around Denver with either Edna or Sinclair, I’d noticed that parking was at a bit of premium—and many streets were narrow and packed, with cars crammed along with road with barely an inch between bumpers.

“Aurora’s a bit more spread out.”

“Aurora? We’re in Aurora?”

“Yep.”

“I didn’t even notice when it changed.”

As she closed the door to the car, Edna grinned. “You like to look all over—and I don’t blame you one bit. But there was a green street sign just past the light at one of the major intersections that you missed. I can’t remember which. It’s just a city limit sign.”

We started walking toward the building. “I’ll look for it on the way back.”

“For some strange reason, there’s not one announcing we’re returning to Denver. I couldn’t tell you why.”

One thing I definitely noticed, just like Edna said, was that the traffic and buildings here were less like sardines packed in a can. It was still far bigger and more overwhelming than Winchester, but it felt like there was a little more room to breathe.

Edna’s tech was a girl who looked to be about my age, whereas my tech was a black man who I would have guessed was closer to Sinclair’s. Both were fun and funny, joking with each other and us while pampering us by making us look a little more beautiful. When we left, our nails were dry—and mine a little longer due to the acrylic tips he’d added. My tech had told me a French manicure would add a touch of sophistication to my look and Edna agreed—so I didn’t have to worry about what color would go with my gown.

We had far more fun with my toenails—but again we didn’t go with what I would have considered a traditional color. Instead, the polish was silver, and my tech said it would go with anything.

The tips on my fingernails weren’t terribly long and I was glad for that, considering I’d be back working downstairs on Monday.

For now, though, I let myself revel in the feeling of being a princess, sought and loved by my handsome prince.

Instead of making lunch, Edna took us to a nearby a sandwich shop, also on Sinclair’s dime.

Close to two that afternoon, I was beginning to feel antsy. I’d hopped in the shower and combed out my hair, letting it air dry, not knowing exactly what the makeup/hair person would need. I considered staying in a robe and decided I should probably be dressed when she arrived—but not in my gown for the evening. I didn’t want to get anything on it, especially not makeup. So I got in a t-shirt, sweats, and sneakers and waited.

While I did, I checked my email. Still no word from DU.

I texted my dad, just asking how he was doing. I still hadn’t told him about the ballet tonight and wasn’t sure how. It seemed to be a big giveaway—and, yet, we’d managed to fool Edna.

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