Snow Queen (13 page)

“I don’t believe this,” Christie said, slumping against the wall. “What am I going to do?”

“You’re going to pick another song,” Aubrey said firmly.

“But how? There’s no time,” Christie said. “How could she do this?”

“She’s doing it because she knows you can beat her,” Aubrey said, looking her friend in the eye. “She’s afraid of you.”

Christie scoffed. “Please. Layla’s not afraid of anything.”

“Yes she is. She’s afraid of seeing Christie Howell wearing the Snow Queen crown,” Aubrey said, turning around and staring daggers at the door of the rehearsal room. “And we are going to make her worst nightmare come true. All you have to do is find new music.”

“And perfect a new routine,” Christie added, looking dubious.

“In less than a week,” Aubrey added.

She and Christie sighed as one, a heavy sense of doom settling over them. Aubrey had never hated Layla more.

“T
hat’s it. I have to drop out of the pageant,” Christie said, shoving aside the silver curtain on her dressing room. She was wearing a deep red dress with a plunging neckline and rhinestone detailing.

“Why? That looks nice on you,” Aubrey said, even though the gown was way too sparkly for her tastes.

Apparently, pageant dresses were supposed to be sparkly. Every single gown Christie had tried on had featured rhinestones or sequins or both. Aubrey had chosen her own dress over an hour ago—a plain black strapless with a single rhinestone snowflake brooch holding the sash at the side of the waist. It was elegant and didn’t make her look as if she was trying too hard. But she hadn’t even shown it to Christie yet, because
the girl had been too busy whirlygigging around the boutique, trying on every dress in sight.

“Really? Because I think it makes me look like one of the
Real Housewives of Atlanta
,” Christie said, turning to look in the three-way mirror. “I’m sixteen. I’m not supposed to look like I’m forty,” she added, lifting up the slim velvet skirt and letting it fall again, trying to poof it out a bit.

“Then why do you keep trying on dresses that are made for forty-year-olds?” Aubrey asked, standing up from the velour couch on which she’d been parked for the last hour. “These dresses are not you.”

“I know!” Christie groaned, dropping down on the couch and leaning her head back. “But these are the kinds of dresses the girls wear for the pageant. They’re all slinky and sexy and sophisticated….”

“Or just plain
old
,” Aubrey said, wrinkling her nose in distaste at the pile of Christie’s discards. She thought back to that morning’s encounter with Layla and felt a jolt of inspiration. “So all the girls wear dresses like this?”

“Yeah. Dark colors, velvet, slits up the back.
It’s pretty standard,” Christie said, toying with the chiffon skirt on one of the dresses she’d rejected.

“So why not do something entirely different?” Aubrey suggested.

Christie’s brow crinkled. “What do you mean?”

“You remember what Fabrizia said.” Aubrey walked over to a rack filled with pastel-colored gowns. “You want to stand out to the judges—make them remember you.”

“Yeah…” Christie said, sitting forward.

“So…” Aubrey pulled out a big pink gown with a poufy skirt and delicate spaghetti straps, similar to the one Christie had pointed out in her magazine the other day. She held it up to her chin with one hand and held the skirt out with the other to show its volume. “Stand out.”

Christie’s eyes lit up at the sight of the pastel pink dress. Tiny silver sparkles sprinkled the skirt, so that they caught the light when it moved.

“I don’t know,” Christie said. She got up from the couch and approached the dress with a smile. “Pink isn’t really a winter color.”

“Maybe not, but it’s
your
color,” Aubrey said. “You look beautiful in pink. You’ll look like a princess. And I bet that something demure will really appeal to some of the older judges.”

And maybe, just maybe, it’ll give you the edge over Layla
, Aubrey thought, imagining Layla’s devastated face when she heard Christie’s name called as the new Snow Queen.

“Just try it on,” Aubrey said, handing the hanger to Christie. “Please? For me?”

Christie grinned. “Okay!”

She hustled over to the dressing room as fast as her tight skirt would allow her and snatched the curtain closed.

“Hey! I never saw your dress,” Christie called out over the sounds of zipping and unzipping.

“It’s nice. You’ll like it,” Aubrey told her, lifting the black velvet dress to inspect it. “I think it’ll serve my purpose.”

“Your purpose?” Christie asked.

“Yeah. My plan is to score higher than Layla, but lower than you,” Aubrey told her friend. “Which shouldn’t be too hard, considering I have no talent.”

“Oh, come on! What about that song from
South Pacific
? That was good,” Christie called out.

“Who’s singing a song from
South Pacific
?” the shop owner, Clarissa, asked, pausing as she walked by. “I
love
that musical.”

Clarissa had been helping Christie pick out dresses all afternoon and had only stepped away to answer the phone. A tall woman with broad shoulders and curly brown hair, Clarissa had been a friend of Rose’s ever since she’d opened her store twenty years ago. At least that was what she’d told Aubrey when Christie had introduced them. Like Jason at the ski shop, she had offered to lend both Aubrey and Christie their gowns for the pageant. Apparently Rose and Jim had put up her entire family at a huge discount when she’d gotten married a few years ago, and Clarissa was ready to return the favor.

“I am. Maybe,” Aubrey replied. “Unfortunately, I sound ridiculous singing it.”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s not true,” Clarissa said, sitting down on the arm of the couch next to Aubrey. “I think you two girls are going to blow away the competition. At least I
hope
you
will. Everyone in this town is just sick of the Chamberlains getting everything they want.”

“Really? I thought it was just me,” Aubrey said with a laugh.

“Oh, please, honey. We’re all rooting for Christie…and you, of course. Any friend of Christie’s—”

“Thanks,” Aubrey said. “Just don’t get your hopes up when it comes to me. I am totally talentless.”

“You are not talentless,” Christie protested from behind the curtain.

“Maybe not. But everyone in that audience is going to think I am,” Aubrey replied.
Including Grayson
, she added silently, shuddering at the very idea of him hearing her sing.

“Well, it’s too bad you can’t pick out dresses for everyone,” Christie said. “Because you definitely have a talent for that.”

She stepped out of the dressing room and Aubrey’s jaw dropped. The color, as always, was perfect for Christie, showing off her olive skin and jet-black hair. The fitted bodice enhanced her small frame without being too slinky, and the skirt swished elegantly when Christie walked.

“My goodness, Christie! That dress was
made
for you!” Clarissa cooed, clasping her hands together.

“Really?” Christie asked, beaming.

“Definitely,” Aubrey said with a grin. “That is a pageant winner.”

“You weren’t kidding. That was the best spaghetti and meatballs I’ve ever had in my life,” Aubrey said, placing her hand over her stomach as she and Grayson emerged from Leonardo’s Ristorante that night. It was a crisp, clear evening, and the sidewalks in town were packed with people moving in and out of restaurants or window-shopping. Grayson took Aubrey’s hand and held it as they navigated the busy walkway. Aubrey’s heart leaped happily, just like it did every time he touched her.

“I figured they probably don’t do a lot of hearty Italian food in southern Florida,” Grayson said.

“Not really. We’re more of a fish-and-vegetable society. Unless you go Cuban,” Aubrey said. “Then there’s a whole rice and beans and cheese thing added to it and it’s heaven. If you ever
come to Florida I’ll take you to Cuba North. You’ll
love
their sampler platter.”

“It’s a deal,” Grayson said. “The next time I’m in Florida, you’re on.”

Aubrey’s smile widened. It may have been totally unrealistic, but she felt as if she and Grayson had just made a plan for the future. As if they had mutually agreed they wanted to stay together for more than just this week. And she kind of liked that feeling.

“So, how’s the preparation for the pageant going? Is Christie going to take down the competition?” Grayson asked.

Aubrey laughed. “I hope so,” she said. Then she hesitated. “I feel kind of weird talking to you about this. I mean, Layla’s part of the competition she wants to take down.”

“My sister can take care of herself,” Grayson replied, pausing so an elderly couple could get by. “Of course I’d be happy if Layla won, but there’s a lot more riding on Christie winning.”

“Well, we went shopping for evening gowns today, and the one Christie picked is definitely a showstopper,” Aubrey said happily. “The judges won’t be able to take their eyes off her.”

“Really? I always thought all those dresses were kind of rote,” Grayson said.

“Exactly,” Aubrey replied. “That’s why Christie went with something different. She’s going to wear pink. Light pink. She looks like a fairy princess.”

“Really? That’s a bold choice,” Grayson said, stopping in front of a cozy-looking coffeehouse.

“I know, but it’s so her. She was obviously uncomfortable in all those slinky little dresses. This way she’ll be confident and composed,” Aubrey said, smiling as Grayson opened the door for her.

Inside, the small coffeehouse was jam-packed with people, mostly couples cuddling over warm mugs and yummy-looking desserts. A glass case along one wall displayed all kinds of muffins and cookies and tarts, and a huge cappuccino machine chugged away behind the counter. Jazz music played over hidden speakers, and the lights were so low it was difficult to see whether any of the tables were free.

“That’s a good thing,” Grayson said as he stepped into the café behind her. “Since all the dresses looked the same to me, I always scored
the girls on how comfortable they looked walking across the stage. You know, whether their smile was natural or forced, whether it seemed like they were terrified of tripping in their heels or whether they knew they could handle it.”

Aubrey tilted her head. “Thanks for the tip. I knew that dating a judge was a good idea.”

Her heart stopped for a second, hearing the boldness of her words. Neither of them had actually used the word “dating” yet, but it didn’t seem to affect Grayson.

“Oh, so you’re using me, then?” Grayson teased.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Aubrey teased back.

“Well, don’t tell anyone I gave you inside info,” Grayson said, leaning in close as he surveyed the tiny shop, looking for an empty table. “Wouldn’t want you to get disqualified or anything.”

“God forbid,” Aubrey joked. Actually, getting disqualified might not be a bad idea at this point. The pageant was in less than a week, and Christie was doing fine. Maybe she could handle the rest of it on her own. It would definitely save Aubrey from the humiliation of having to sing in front of all those people.

But no. She couldn’t quit now. She wouldn’t give Layla the satisfaction. Besides, she had promised Christie she would be there for her and she didn’t want to go back on her word.

“So…what are
you
wearing?” Grayson asked, looping his arms around her waist. Evidently he hadn’t seen an empty table, because he seemed content to stay put.

Aubrey grinned. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s better to be surprised,” he said, leaning toward her. Aubrey’s heart skipped, anticipating a kiss. She hoped there wasn’t too much garlic in the spaghetti sauce.

“There’s a table opening up over there, you two.”

A passing waitress nudged Grayson’s elbow and knocked them out of their gooey-eyed embrace before their lips could touch. Grayson stood up straight and cleared his throat.

“Yeah. Thanks,” he said.

Giggling under her breath, Aubrey led the way, weaving around the tables and chairs toward the small round booth in the corner.

“So, there’s a lot going on this week, huh?” Grayson said as the waitress appeared with menus. Extensive menus. Aubrey looked hers over in shock. Who knew there were so many different flavors of coffee in the world? “Lots of events.”

Aubrey blinked. His voice sounded leading. Was he going to ask her to the ball now? She dropped the menu and looked up at him, trying to keep the giddy anticipation out of her eyes.

“Busiest vacation I’ve ever had,” she replied nonchalantly.

Grayson laughed. “Seriously.” He leaned his elbows on the table and rubbed his hands together. “So I was thinking…”

Aubrey’s heart pounded. She bit her lip to keep from grinning and told herself not to sound too eager. Take a second to reply. Play it cool.

“Want to hit the carnival with me tomorrow night?” he asked. “The hot dogs are always freshest at the beginning of the week.”

Aubrey’s face fell along with her heart, but she recovered quickly. He was asking her out on a date, just not the right one. But the ball wasn’t until Thursday night. They had some
time. Not a lot of time, but some.

“Sure,” she said. “Sounds like fun.”

Grayson smiled. “Cool.”

“You guys know what you want?” the waitress asked, reappearing with her pad and pencil.

“Not yet. Sorry,” Grayson replied. “Can you give us a few minutes?”

“No problem.”

Aubrey watched her go with a sigh. She knew what she wanted. A plain coffee and a date with Grayson for the Winter Ball.

Unfortunately, Grayson seemed to need some more time to decide.

Aubrey sat backstage on Sunday morning, her posture straight, her knees locked together, trying not to move a muscle so her strapless dress wouldn’t shift on her and expose something she didn’t want to expose. When she had first slipped into the gown in the dressing room, her heart had fluttered with excitement over the idea of Grayson seeing her walk across stage all elegant and feminine. But after fifteen minutes in the thing, she had learned that every time she
so much as turned her head the top felt as if it was going to fall right off. Maybe this hadn’t been the best gown selection after all. Maybe she was trying too hard.

“You look killer in that. You should always wear black,” Dana said, pausing on her way to the full-length mirror, which every girl in the place had walked past at least once. Her gown was a deep emerald color with a halter neckline and a slit that exposed her entire leg.

“Thanks,” Aubrey said, perking up slightly. “You look good too. That color totally brings out your eyes.”

“You think?” Dana said happily. “Thanks!”

Aubrey sat back and smiled. So maybe she hadn’t picked the
worst
gown in the world. Did she really look killer?

“So, where’s Christie?” Dana asked.

“Oh, she had to run to the bathroom,” Aubrey told her. “But just wait until you see her dress.”