“We’re having the dinner for Porter Andrew Hall this Saturday night. Daddy is off to a convention in New Orleans and will be gone for four days beginning Friday, so we have our work cut out for us. I want the house gleaming from top to bottom. I’m going to design a special dinner, and I’m taking you to buy you something more glamorous to wear.”
“Me?”
“Of course, you. I can’t have you looking like poor Cinderella or something while I look dressed to the nines, can I? How many times do I have to repeat that we’re the Heavenstone sisters, Semantha? What that means is that when anyone looks at us, they look at us as descendants of the most established historically important families in this state. Imagine if a king had two daughters, and one was a slob or something and the other was elegant and royal.”
“I’m not a slob,” I said.
“No, but you want to look as bright and as imperial as I do, especially to Porter. I’ll take you to Mother’s beauty salon as well. I’ve already made the appointment for both of us, for that and a manicure. You should have your nails done by a professional.”
Cassie had gone to a beauty salon only a half-dozen times, if that, in her whole life and only because Mother made her go. From her childhood into her teen years, she had carried her dislike of anyone touching her hair. I was now even more impressed with her feelings about Porter.
“Couldn’t we get something Uncle Perry created for our stores?”
“Are you brain dead? Do you think Porter Andrew Hall would even look twice at those teeny-bopper or whatever you call them fashions? I’m talking about spending real money on your first real dress, Semantha. As you know, I have Mother’s entire wardrobe at my disposal, because we are the same size, but it’s different for you. For you, we need something special.”
Special? For me? At times over the next few days, I thought she was more interested in how I looked than in her own appearance. She dragged me from one upscale store to another, from one designer to another, until she was satisfied we had found that special dress, special because it emphasized my “best qualities.”
What surprised me here was what Cassie thought were my best qualities. She never complimented me on my figure. Mother used to remark how lucky I was that I had developed so perfectly proportionally. I had a metabolism that wouldn’t permit me to grow too heavy in my waist or my legs, and my breasts were firm, perky. Cassie had a nice figure, too, but Mother had never spent as many compliments on her as she had on me. Daddy had been more economical with his praise, but I would never forget one su
mmer day when we were all out at our swimming pool.
I had come out in a new two-piece Mother had bought me the day before. Daddy, Cassie, and Mother were already out at the pool on their chaise longues. Cassie always wore a one-piece, never a two-piece. Everyone was reading when I strolled over, and then Daddy lowered his paper and whistled.
“Well, look who’s become a beautiful young woman,” he said.
Cassie, who always wore tons of sunscreen even though she kept herself mostly in the shade, looked as if she had an instant sunburn.
“Yes,” Mother seconded. “She is.”
“I tell you what, Semantha,” Daddy said. “You’re pretty enough to be dangerous now.”
“What does that mean?” Cassie asked sharply.
Daddy smiled at her and nodded at me.“She can give a man a heart attack.”
Mother laughed, but Cassie returned to her book. I did feel like a little princess that day. Cassie never said another word about it, or anything about my figure, but the dress she settled on for me now was far more revealing than I would have ever expected.
The saleslady described it as a “Sweetheart hourglass minidress.” It was a strapless style with built-in bra cups, giving me extra uplift. It had a seductive front leg split. It was made in a jet-black animal-print leather mixed with satin panels that shimmered as I moved. It was finished with a sexy lace back. When I tried it on, I saw other customers, women and men, stop to look at me.
“Perfect,” Cassie said. “Let’s pick out some shoes to match. I have just the right string of pearls for you, too.”
Although I would never have dared say it, it was tickling the tip of my tongue. Aren’t you afraid, Cassie, that I will steal away all of Porter’s attention? I almost did say it when I saw the dress she had chosen for herself. It was one of Mother’s plainer one-piece dresses in a light gray that did nothing for Cassie’s figure and complexion. It made me even more self-conscious, but she didn’t seem to care.
Late Saturday afternoon, she came into my bedroom to give me another present, a bottle of one of Mother’s expensive perfumes.
“Everything you have smells like candy,” she said. “This is perfume for a woman.” Then she said a strange thing to me. “Don’t look so surprised at everything I do for you, Semantha. When I do it for you, I do it for myself.
“And,” she added before she left, “what you do for me you do for yourself.”
It was something that should have made me feel happy, reinforced our being sisters, close and loving, but like so many things Cassie said and did, it left me standing with my heart skipping beats.
Hangover
WHEN THE DOORBELL rang, I felt as if I were about to step onstage as the curtain was raised. Cassie insisted that I answer the door and start showing Porter the house. She was still very busy in the kitchen. Porter was wearing a beautiful black silk sports jacket with a light wool black V-neck sweater and black slacks. He wore no jewelry aside from his gold watch. In his right hand, he had a bouquet of red roses and in his left a box of candy wrapped in a pink ribbon.
“Hi, Sam, this is for you,” he said, handing me the box of candy. “Your sister told me chocolate mints were your favorite.”
“Thank you.”