The Librarian Spy(37)
Someone dropped a dish in the background, splintering upon impact with the marble floor. Ava glanced around the busy café whose patrons had tripled in the time since she’d arrived. The realization of having lost control of her emotions in so public a place hit her.
She lowered her face. “I’m sorry for bringing this up here. It’s not the place, I know.”
“I wasn’t at all put out by it.” James made a point of glancing at the surrounding tables and standing customers putting in their orders. “Nor was anyone else. I’m grateful you told me, in fact.”
“I don’t know why I did.” Heat scorched her cheeks as she lifted her bica in the hopes its fortitude would bolster her own wits.
“Sometimes the things we hold inside of us need to be let out. No matter where you are or who you’re speaking with.” James smiled with a delicate understanding, then respectfully returned to his own seat and took up his cold coffee.
His finger tapped the side of the small cup, as if vacillating over something. “I have someone I’d like you to meet,” he said suddenly. “What are you doing tonight?”
Her plans included a meal of grilled fish and settling down with Wuthering Heights. “My evening can be rearranged if I have good reason,” she replied noncommittally.
“Perfect.” He sat back in his chair. “I want you to come to Estoril with me for a dinner party.”
Ava swallowed a mouthful of coffee and set her cup down, grateful to have been vague about her plans. “A dinner party? I haven’t a thing to wear.”
“Peggy can help you with that.”
“I couldn’t impose.”
James chuckled. “I assure you, she would jump at the chance.”
Ava cast him a skeptical look.
He put his arm over the back of the chair next to him. “You asked for something that might aid the refugees. The man I intend to introduce you to knows many people. And trust me, Peggy will be delighted.”
“All right.” Ava tilted her head, unconvinced and certainly determined not to beg if Peggy declined.
James, however, was right, Peggy did not say no. He was also correct when he said she would jump at the chance. She did so—quite literally—in a squeal of excitement that made Ava nervous at having asked.
Before Ava knew what was happening, she was hauled over to Peggy’s apartment where her friend studied her with a discerning eye as she pressed a finger to her lower lip in thought. Peggy’s place was small, like Ava’s with far more color splashed about. Persimmon-colored roses sat in a bright green vase on the counter, a splay of aubergine pillows propped on a sunshine yellow couch that matched the drapes layered over the open windows.
“It’s a shame we didn’t have the opportunity to put your hair in pin curls.” Peggy tsk-tsked. “But I’ll see what I can do.”
The next hour consisted of Ava’s tresses being brushed and tugged, her face being powdered, prodded, and painted until Peggy stepped back with a smile and a proud nod.
“This really wasn’t necessary,” Ava objected, feeling rather silly.
“Trust me, you’ll be glad once you’re in Estoril. Everyone there is filthy rich, and the rules are much stricter.”
“What do you mean?”
“I was nearly arrested once for wearing a two-piece bathing suit.” Peggy rolled her eyes. “It was when I first arrived and had no idea policemen would be crawling all over the beach with their little rulers.”
“Rulers?” The thought of policemen patrolling the beach to measure swimwear was far too ridiculous.
“Here’s the kicker—I bought the suit at one of the shops in Estoril.” Peggy threw her hands up in exasperation. “I had to practically threaten bodily harm for them to take it back.”
“I think it’s a good thing I don’t have to worry about bathing suits.”
Peggy chuffed a laugh. “You’ve got that right.” She picked up a handheld mirror. “What do you think?”
The woman reflected back at Ava was elegant, older in a more sophisticated way. Her dark hair was gently rolled back from her face, her lashes darkened slightly but not to the point of being obvious, her skin smoothed by powder. In truth, she looked just like her mother.
Ava had been worried Peggy might try to turn her into something she wasn’t, but instead Peggy had made her into the very person Ava had always secretly wished she could be.
“Oh, Peggy,” she breathed. “Thank you.”
Her friend beamed at her. “Now wait till you see the dress.” She spun around so fast to retrieve the garment that her pink skirt belled out around her knees.
She was only gone for a brief moment before her footsteps echoed back down the unseen hallway. “I have to attend all sorts of events with the ambassador, so I have an extensive wardrobe. I’m glad to share some of these.” Peggy emerged with a jewel green gown. “They’re far too beautiful to leave hanging in a closet.”
Ava pressed her lips together, careful not to muss the Victory red sheen on her mouth. “Is that silk?”
Peggy waved her hand dismissively. “It was bought before the war. As soon as you asked, I knew this was the dress for you with your dark hair and green eyes.” She shifted the gown from her arms, and the length of it slid to the floor like shimmering liquid. It was beautiful, with a sash that tied in a bow at the cinched-in waist, the skirt loose and free-flowing. And it was strapless.