Page 10 of Old Money
I was panicked. I’d wrenched myself out of my own dress, but it turned out hers didn’t fit much better. I’d gotten it on, but the zipper wouldn’t budge. The bodice gaped open behind me, revealing my whole back and the top of my (embarrassing, babyish) underwear.
I peered through the open the door, desperate for help, but unable to ask her. Caitlin was bent over her vanity, applying eyeshadow with her ring finger. Her own dress that night was a pearl-colored slip that swung about her ankles. Her hair was loose—messy in the good way—and dappled with sunny highlights. She fished through the tubes and pencils on the vanity, plucking out a tin of plummy lip tint. She dabbed it lightly on her lips, pausing for a moment to smile at herself in the mirror.
“Is Patrick Yates your boyfriend?” I blurted out.
Caitlin jerked up, genuinely startled. I was too. Sometimes thoughts would burst from my mouth before I could catch them—usually the most embarrassing ones.
“Shit, Alice!” Caitlin cracked into laughter. “You sound like my mother!”
“What do you mean?”
She bent back down to the mirror, rubbing her lips together and giving her hair one last shake.
“Me and Patrick—she’s up my ass about it.”
“Okay,” I said, unable to stop myself. “But is he your boyfriend?”
“Ugh,”Caitlin gave an exasperated laugh. “Yes, but that’s between us. Donottell my mom.”
I grinned. This confirmation was thrilling enough.Between uswas even better.
“Of course not.” I straightened up, trying my zipper again. “Why?”
Caitlin breezed into the bathroom, sighing.
“God. I don’t know.”
She took me by the shoulders, turning me toward the mirror, and started working the zipper up.
“It’s not justher, y’know, it’s everyone. It’s just like—” Caitlin caught my eye in the mirror. “You know who Patrick is, right? His dad and his grandfather, and all that?”
I dropped my chin, and Caitlin laughed.
“Right.” She leaned back, considering the bodice, still mostly undone. “You’ve got swimmer’s shoulders, lady.”
I hoped it was a compliment.
“Anyway,” she continued, “I know everyone acts like they’re not impressed by stuff like that, but it’s bullshit. They totally are.”
“Totally.”
She glanced up, cocking an eyebrow at my reflection.
“You know his mother had the Lincoln Lodge torn down last month?”
My eyes widened in the mirror.
“No.”
The Lincoln Lodge was an old stone house on the edge of the Yateses’ property—so called because Abraham Lincoln once spent two months there, recovering from pneumonia. It was one of the village’s most treasured landmarks, not to mention a federal one.
“And...”Caitlin leaned down. “She put in a helipad.”
I gaped, speechless.
“That’s like a little airport, but for helicopters,” Caitlin added.
“I know,” I answered automatically—I’d never heard the word in my life. Helicopters? You weren’t even allowed to ride dirt bikes in Briar’s Green.
