I wasn’t altogether sure I wanted her to mess with my hair, but since she was lending me the dress, I obeyed. With deft movements, Fiona brushed out my long hair and then twisted it and tucked pins into the back to make a smooth, wide bun that made it look as if it were bobbed. She powdered my face, then stood back to look at me. “You’ll need rouge.”
“Mother won’t like it.”
“Why?” Fiona seemed baffled.
“She doesn’t think makeup is for nice girls,” I said.
“Do it anyway,” Cymbeline said, looking up from her magazine. “All the movie stars are doing it.”
“Yes, go ahead,” I said.
Fiona rubbed rouge into the apples of my cheeks. “Do you see how it brings out your eyes?”
Lipstick came next, a smear of red that made my thin lips appear more prominent. Mother would not be happy. I’d have to sneak out without her seeing me. Maybe I should have chosen the green dress after all. My goodness, I was starting to think like Cymbeline.
Fiona put the beads around my neck. Finally, she fixed the shiny headband into the front of my hair. She folded her arms around her middle as she peered at her creation. She made a satisfied grunt. “You look like you’re about to set out for a night in Paris.”
“Thank you.” I wasn’t sure I liked being quite so made up. Regardless, this was a time of changes in my life. For the first time, I was doing the things most girls my age did. I wasn’t the pastor’s daughter tonight. I was a rouged-cheeked, lipstick-smeared girl about town.
Cymbeline unfolded herself from the chair and came to stand on the other side of me. All three of us looked at our reflections in the mirror. “You’ll do. Now let me in. Fiona must do me next. I simply have to look especially good tonight. Viktor’s going to be out with that Emma person.”
I got up to let her take my place and padded to the other chair in my bare feet. Stockings were necessary for tonight, but it was so hot I’d put that off until the last minute. I still had fifteen minutes before I was to meet Theo downstairs.
“My sister’s still pretending she doesn’t like Viktor.” Fiona used the soft-bristled brush on Cymbeline’s hair, teasing her curls into compliance. “To herself, that is.”
Cymbeline scowled. “I don’t like him. But I don’t want him thinking that Emma’s prettier than me. That’s all.”
I didn’t want to get Cymbeline annoyed so I changed the subject. “What about you, Fiona? Is there anyone you like?”
Fiona lifted one dainty shoulder. “Not really. I prefer my music to any romantic pursuits. Maybe when I grow up, I might like someone. For now, besides my sisters and brothers, I prefer Li’s company the best.”
Cymbeline inspected her sister through the mirror. “What do you mean by company?”
Fiona made one last finger curl in Cymbeline’s hair. “We like to make music together. It’s a language between us. I’m glad he’s back home with us.”
Cymbeline shot me a worried glance. I knew what she was thinking. If Fiona fell in love
with Li Wu, there would be trouble.
Fiona brushed our fears aside with a soft laugh. “What’s wrong with you two? He’s much too old for me.”
Age was the least of the problems. Fiona was such an innocent that it hadn’t occurred to her that he was forbidden for a white girl. If she saw him only as her music partner, all would be well.
Footsteps in the hallway drew my attention. I knew from the speed and thud of heels walking hard on the hardwoods, Theo’s footsteps. I would know them anywhere now. Maybe I always had?
Although I would rather not, I pulled on the stockings. When I had them secured, I took one last look at myself in the three-way mirror. “This is as good as it can be. Wish me luck.”
“You don’t need luck,” Fiona said. “You are luck.”
“Do you really sing at the dance hall?” I blurted out.
Fiona spun around to look at me. “How did you know that?”
“Your mother was talking about it to my mother.”
Cymbeline leaned closer to the mirror and used a pair of tweezers to pluck at her eyebrows. “I’m surprised Mama told her. I wouldn’t think Mrs. Lind would approve.”
“She doesn’t,” I said.