All That Glitters (From the Files of Madison Finn, 20) (10 page)

“M
ADDIE, ARE YOU STILL
writing? We have to hurry,” Fiona said. She was changing into a smock dress and turtleneck and trying hard not to smudge what was left of her makeup from the Bloomingdale’s makeover. Everyone was getting ready to go out for the big birthday dinner, and Madison still needed to fix her hair and get ready, too.

“I know, I know, I’m done,” Madison answered. She clicked the laptop shut and slid it underneath the bed where she’d slept the night before.

Lindsay came out of the bathroom wearing a turtleneck sweater and wraparound top that was made from kimono fabric. She had paired it with a long denim skirt. Mrs. Frost, Lindsay’s mother, followed behind her daughter, brushing nonexistent lint off Lindsay’s back.

Mrs. Frost had arrived at the apartment that afternoon while the girls had been out shopping. She appeared just as decked out as her sister, Mimi, with fancy shoes and jewelry on, only Mrs. Frost’s style was way more conservative than her sister’s style. But although Aunt Mimi and Mrs. Frost were opposites in many ways, when they were together they talked the same and had the same mannerisms.

According to Lindsay, the sisters hadn’t always been so close. During college, they hardly ever spoke to each other. But lately they had been spending a lot more time together. Lindsay was part of the reason. Aunt Mimi loved to spoil her niece. But another reason was the pending divorce. When times were tough, friends rallied, but sisters survived—together.

“Doesn’t my daughter look like the queen of the birthday ball?” Mrs. Frost asked aloud. “Lindsay, darling, you are exquisite. Let’s put a flower in your hair.”

“Oh, Mom,” Lindsay groaned.

“You have to start dressing like this at home,” Aimee said. “Every guy in our class will fall in like with you.”

Madison laughed. “What’s so great about that?”

“What isn’t great about it?” Fiona said.

“I have one word for you,” Madison said. “Lance.” She laughed out loud. Lance was a dorky seventh grader whom they always made fun of.

“Okay, I get your point,” Fiona said, smiling.

“It is now six. Our reservation is for seven,” Aunt Mimi reminded everyone.

“Yikes,” Madison blurted. “I better get my clothes on—fast.”

“Yeah, Maddie, I don’t want to be late to the restaurant,” Lindsay said.

“Okeydokey, karaoke,” Madison said, bouncing on tiptoe into the bathroom. It wouldn’t take her more than five minutes to put on a new skirt and top, even if they were a little wrinkled from being crammed into Madison’s suitcase.

Aimee and Fiona sat on one of the many sofas while Madison and Lindsay finished dressing. Mrs. Frost dashed into the bathroom herself to put on more blusher and eyeliner.

Lindsay paced the floor outside the bathroom door. “Mom? You know that Dad never called me, right? Are you sure he’ll be there?” she asked. “He promised he’d be there, but do you really think he’ll show up?”

Mrs. Frost opened the bathroom door and poked her head out.

“You know your father has a lot going on these days,” Mrs. Frost said to Lindsay. “He told me the last time we spoke that he would
try
to make it.”

“I really want him to be there,” Lindsay said. “I want him to sing Happy Birthday. I want him to see my makeover.”

Mrs. Frost smiled. “Oh, you do look lovely, sweetheart,” she said. “Your father would be very impressed.”

Lindsay embraced her mom. Her tears had been close to the surface since the previous day. Madison wondered if Lindsay would start crying again as she had in the planetarium.

But Lindsay didn’t. She smoothed out the wrinkles in her kimono-cloth top and slipped on an oversize blue wool poncho—another loan from her aunt.

“I’m ready,” Lindsay said.

Aimee and Fiona pulled on their jackets, too.

“Sorry for being such a slowpoke,” Madison said.

The six party girls (including Mrs. Frost and Aunt Mimi) made their way out to the hall and into the private elevator to the lobby. Aunt Mimi had ordered two cabs; the doorman had the cars waiting by the curb.

“I know we’ve said it a hundred times already this weekend, but this is the most exciting birthday
ever
,” Madison whispered to Lindsay when they were squished together in the back of one of the taxis.

Lindsay smiled. “I know,” she said. “But that’s thanks to you guys. I don’t know what I would do if you weren’t here. It wouldn’t be the same, would it?”

They drove up Park Avenue toward the restaurant, which was located on the Upper East Side. It seemed as if they had to stop for another traffic light every two blocks or so, but Madison didn’t mind the slower ride. It gave her and Lindsay a chance to talk some more.

“I was thinking about what you said last night,” Lindsay said. “About the Big D and how hard it was for you. But I think things will be different for me. I really do. What if my parents decide they don’t even
want
to split up?”

“Haven’t they already decided?”

Lindsay shrugged. “Yeah. But things can change. People can change. Can’t they?”

“Sometimes,” Madison said.

Of course, what Madison wanted to say was “Beware, they can change; sure they can—for the
worse
.” Madison’s mom and dad had never been yellers; but after the Big D, everything had been expressed with a scream. Before the divorce, they would make big dinners together and listen to classical music while they cooked. After the divorce, there was no time for that. Mom plunged into a more hectic work schedule. Dad moved away. The Big D ushered in the era of takeout and no talking. Life got twice as busy. Madison was never sure why.

“I know I’m supposed to be super happy because it’s my birthday. But I only wish that…oh, forget it, I already made that wish at the planetarium.”

“Your dad?” Madison asked.

Lindsay stared out the window. “Did you ever wish…?” Her voice trailed off.

Madison sighed. She leaned into her friend. “Yes,” she said.

The sign outside the restaurant read
DELICIOUS
in bold neon letters. Inside were round metal tables surrounded by soft, red-cushioned chairs. Each table had been decorated with a vase of wheat, not flowers. The waiters wore red smocks. The tables were packed, which meant that the volume inside the restaurant was louder than loud.

Aunt Mimi pulled her usual strings and got them seated quickly. Madison breathed a sigh of relief when she noticed that the table was set for seven. That meant there was still a place setting for Mr. Frost. She had her fingers and toes crossed that he would show up.

He
had to
show up.

But Madison also believed in omens, and a bad one happened the moment they sat down. Fiona knocked over Mrs. Frost’s glass of merlot.

“Oh,
no
!” Fiona shrieked when she saw Aunt Mimi’s long, cream-colored scarf. It now had a red splatter on it.

Two waiters rushed over.

Aunt Mimi gave Fiona a wink. “I think I look good in wine stain,” she joked, removing her scarf. She folded it neatly on the table and asked the waiter for some club soda.

Aimee leaned into Fiona. “Good one,” she said.

“I didn’t mean it…” Fiona moaned. She looked as though she were about to burst into serious sobs. Next to her, Lindsay was looking sadder than sad, too.

“Such long faces for a party?” Mrs. Frost commented. “Girls, let’s have a good time. Come on. Let’s order something fun.”

Aunt Mimi, Aimee, Fiona, and Mrs. Frost scanned their menus.

Madison was busy eyeing Lindsay. She could tell that her friend’s sad expression meant that her mind was elsewhere. Lindsay kept glancing over at the door.

“What time is it?” Lindsay asked aloud.

Aunt Mimi glanced at her dark green, oversize watch face. “Seven-fifteen,” Aunt Mimi said. “Why don’t you pick out something to nibble?” she advised her niece.

“Yes, Lindsay, this is your party, dear,” Mrs. Frost said. Then she added in a soft voice, “Please stop pouting.”

Madison squirmed a little in her chair. She could tell that Aimee and Fiona were uncomfortable, too. Mrs. Frost and Aunt Mimi exchanged furtive glances. The clock ticked. The waiter took their lengthy orders, but their table remained mostly silent. He brought fresh bread, and everyone dug in to the basket. The best way to fight uncertainty seemed obvious: eat.

By the time it was seven-forty-five, however, only one thing seemed certain. There was no sign of Mr. Frost’s arriving. He hadn’t called. He hadn’t left a message on Aunt Mimi’s or Mrs. Frost’s phone.

“Ever hear the one about the birthday cat?” Madison asked.

Mrs. Frost raised her eyebrows. “No, I have not,” she said.

“Tell us, Maddie!” Aunt Mimi encouraged Madison.

“Well,” Madison began, remembering a bad joke that her dad had shared with her once. But then, in the middle of speaking, she drew a blank. Her expression slackened. “I…I…forgot,” Madison admitted.

“Forgot?” Mrs. Frost asked, looking confused.

Aimee and Fiona cracked up. Even Aunt Mimi seemed to find Madison’s forgetfulness amusing. But Lindsay just sat there, poking a finger into her mouth, gnawing on the newly manicured, gorgeous, makeover nails. She wasn’t used to the polish, and Madison could tell she was worlds away.

How embarrassing, Madison thought. This is a disaster.

At least dinner was on its way. After the waiter brought their food, the group ate their peppered swordfish and basil chicken and vegetarian risotto—and did a lot more chewing than talking. Waiters also brought side dishes of baby corn; sliced tomatoes sprinkled with cilantro, and roasted Jerusalem artichokes, which Madison thought tasted more like little potatoes than anything else. The friends poked forks into one another’s food, tasting as much as they possibly could. Although Aimee and Madison both had their moments of being picky eaters, they tried all the food on the table. Lindsay was the only one of them who didn’t eat very much. She tasted some chicken and put her fork back down.

“Everything really is so…well…what’s the word I’m looking for?” Mrs. Frost said, attempting to make a little play on words on the name of the establishment. “Delicious?”

“Ha-ha,” Aimee and Fiona giggled politely. “Sure thing,” they said in unison.

As they finished the meal, an old cuckoo clock chimed exactly nine times.

“Nine? It’s already nine?” Lindsay said. “I really thought he might come.”

“Look, Lindsay, don’t give up. He may still show up,” Mrs. Frost said, trying to make even more excuses for her estranged husband. “I have my cell phone here, so let me check again. Maybe he just got stuck in traffic.”

Lindsay looked forlorn.

“Stuck in traffic for almost two hours?” Lindsay asked.

No one said anything.

Then Aunt Mimi cleared her throat. “Enough of this talk,” she said assertively. “I think what this group of gals needs is an extra-extra-large dose of dark chocolate. What do you say, Lindsay? It’s your favorite.”

Uncharacteristically, a deflated Lindsay shook her head.

“No, thanks,” she said.

“No?” Aunt Mimi gasped. “Hmph! We’ll see about that.” She crooked a finger and signaled to the server. From across the restaurant he nodded. Then he disappeared into the back.

Fiona and Aimee tried to kick Madison under the table, but they booted Mrs. Frost by mistake instead.

“Ouch!” Mrs. Frost exclaimed. Then she broke into a smile. “Was that your foot, Lindsay?”

“Yeah, who’s playing soccer under the table?” Aimee asked. “Fiona?”

“Very funny, Aim,” Fiona said.

Everyone laughed. But Lindsay didn’t even bat an eyelash. She was still spacing out when the waiter—or when
five
waiters emerged from the kitchen carrying a large, brown, frosted cake covered with sparklers.

“Happy bertday to eww, happy bertday to eww.”
The waiters sang in a funny accent. Aunt Mimi leaned over to Madison. “This place is famous for its birthday surprises,” she whispered. “Isn’t this just de-lish?”

Aimee and Fiona had their eyes locked on the waiters and the cake, but Madison was looking at Lindsay. Her friend still looked so sad. She wasn’t even watching the cake or the waiters. She was still staring at the front door of the restaurant.

She was still waiting for Mr. Frost to appear.

Aunt Mimi decided to get the cake wrapped to go. She said they could eat it for breakfast. Fiona loved that idea.

“Please don’t be sad,” Madison said to Lindsay. “Everything will work out. It always does. Gramma Helen tells me that, and she’s usually right about stuff.”

“Well, she never met my dad,” Lindsay grumbled.

Mrs. Frost made an uncomfortable face. “Lindsay, I think you need to stop this. I know it’s your birthday, and I know you’re disappointed, but your father…”

Aunt Mimi stood up, and Madison knew exactly why; she wanted to change the subject. Aimee and Fiona knew it, too. Madison shot them both a glance. They had to do something to cheer Lindsay up.

The waiters brought the check. Aunt Mimi paid, and they all retrieved their coats from the checkroom at the front of the restaurant. Lindsay wasn’t saying much.

Aunt Mimi put an arm around Lindsay’s shoulder and grabbed Madison with the other arm.

“Girls, I never noticed before this very minute,” she whispered, “but you two look like sisters. Same hair, same beautiful smile.”

“Aunt Mimi, come on,” Lindsay said. She started to pull away, but then she stopped herself and broke into a huge smile. “Sisters?”

“We’ve heard that before,” Madison said.

“Sometimes it does feel like we’re all related, don’t you think?” Fiona added. “I mean, none of us has any real sisters.”

In that moment, something shifted. Lindsay seemed happier, almost as if she’d forgotten about the trouble with her dad for a flickering moment.

The door to the restaurant blew open next to them as a large crowd of people pushed their way in. The air outside was nippy. The four friends huddled together against the cold.

“Shall we?” Aunt Mimi said, indicating the exit. “We have presents to open back at my place.”

“Yes, let’s go,” Mrs. Frost said. “Let’s make the rest of your birthday great, Lindsay.”