The night of the grand party came. Lily had only had a moment to glance at the ocean. It didn't matter, not today of all days. She would see it after the party, the occasion that had the entire household, several dozen temporary employees, an orchestra, and all magazines, newspapers, and news stations that wanted the scoop that was promised during the event nervous in anticipation. All had their own ways to try to work away some of the nervous energy.
Sirene and Jesse were out of sight, helping each other 'prepare' for the night. All avoided the wing of the mansion, as everyone knew exactly what they were doing. The rooms were sound-proofed, for the reason that Derek Dalton would anticipate for a son of his, but all decided to give them privacy. The few that felt such a relationship didn't deserve privacy, this thought stemming from an intense dislike of Sirene, simply would rather pretend that they didn't see the tell-tale glances, the euphemisms, or know anything about it. Candy was simply disgusted with her friend. He didn't know that Sirene would be gone like a wisp of smoke on a rainy day the instant she had whatever it was she desired.
Mako and Candy helped Maddie with the last touches on the food. Massive quantities of hors d'ourves had been created by hand, everything from crab puffs to delicate tarts to exquisite spun sugar figurines dressed in marzipan clothing. Mako had resigned from his post as Sirene's secretary two months before. She had been angry, even furious, but after he had outlined a few points that only Lily and Sirene heard, she reluctantly released him from whatever it was he had done for her. He never would say exactly what his job had been, but instead ruled out any suspicious duties. Lily had made some sign at him, but he knew what was happening, and her part in the tale could come after Sirene departed. He told Candy that he would tell her after it all stopped being so strange.
Candy believed him, and was often caught smiling blissfully at the simple band of stainless silver with a cubic zirconia as the stone. He had wanted to provide a diamond and gold, saving until he had enough money to buy a proper ring. She had insisted that she would be happier with one that wouldn't tarnish, required no extra thought, and that she was far too clumsy to be wearing diamonds. He had acquiesced, glad to be spared of the task of ring-shopping. Candy was not one for gaudy rings with diamonds too large, and too small meant that he held no stock in the relationship, according to Jesse, who he had spoken with shortly. Sirene left no time for anything but the briefest of exchanges. She liked to stay busy, as giving him time to think was not a good thing for the type of relationship she had with the celebrity.
Derek Dalton was away on yet another date. He had called Dr. Stacy Grey, who had been the secret fan that treated Jesse a year ago the next day, hesitantly, sounding like some nervous schoolboy instead of an esteemed actor. She had readily agreed to lunch, to "discuss medical details for his new movie." Unlike most extended dates, she paid for dinner after lunch was covered by him. Money was not an issue with either of them. She was unlike any woman he had ever dated. He liked her for it, or perhaps even the other word that begins with L he had always used so lightly. With Stacy, he knew that there would be no such light assurances. If he said it, he better mean it. He liked that feeling, and didn't care who knew it.
The band had arrived in the morning, ready to find where they would be performing. Dr. Howard Sage had not said a word to the silent girl that led them to the alcove. He looked it over critically, finding nothing noteworthy. He took out a pitch-pipe, testing the acoustics of the room while the curtain was drawn. To his surprise, someone had put enough thought into the space that the area was tuned perfectly. He asked the girl who had made this area, and she had only pointed at herself before leaving quickly. She hadn't done it to be noticed by this director, however nice he was beneath a prickly exterior.
The most dedicated reporters had been camped out in the driveway for a week. Lily brought them in at noon sharp, gesturing for them to be silent so that the small orchestra could rehearse for a final time in peace. Quite a few shot questions before realizing she was mute. The uneasy new fact quieted them for a short while, until one newspaper reporter asked a short series of questions, mostly about the guest of honor. Lily answered readily, with gestures and movements of her head, but left before other followed the reporter's lead. However nice the woman had been, she had other things to do.
Lily kept herself occupied with as much work as she could find. Doing something constantly kept her from thinking. Thinking only made her consider what tomorrow was. It would be the one-year anniversary of what had happened. She had been accepted as a part of the staff the day after the incident. A full year had almost passed, and she barely realized it. It was a waste, she thought at first. No, it wasn't. Sirene had come only for some agenda related to Lily, and had brought Mako. He had found the way out of his agreement, with a little advice from Lily, and he and Candy were happy. The roses bloomed, and Lily thought they would continue to do so. She had danced for them, after all, and Maddie had told her that her dancing was pure emotion, just what the roses had needed. She picked a small bouquet of her roses for the ballroom, where their dark red would compliment the faint pink of the walls.
At last, the moment had nearly arrived. Lily had been wearing a plain outfit, dressy but able to blend into the background. A plain grey skirt, white blouse, pony-tail, and sensible dress shoes brought no attention. She would get attention in the outfit she would wear instead, and not of the lewd kind. Lily had always been demure in such matters, as in almost all things. She was nothing like Sirene, or so she hoped. Well, she had hoped so before. After seeing how effective looking and acting like Sirene was, she wondered if that was such a good thing.
The gown was a dark green. It was strapless, but sat comfortably below her shoulders, not too low or high. The bodice curved perfectly, fitted to her, and the skirts swirled with every motion. They were uneven, dark green with hints of iridescence in some patches. One side of the skirts dangled just below her knee, while the other reached her ankle. The evening dress was perfect for the occasion, dark and dramatic.
She did her hair, next. She had debated about doing one of the many fancy hairstyles Candy assured her were possible in just a quarter of an hour, but had made her decision long ago. She would wear her hair down, even if it did seem a last-ditch attempt at a metaphor. She had no pretenses left to keep. The reason she had come was gone, so she would leave with style. She brushed her hair, smoothing the blonde-brown waves.
She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. The dress gave her a mysterious aura, some hint that she was not the simple maid she usually appeared to be. Her eyes were greyer than ever, but had an unmistakably blue tint. She twirled once before her reflection, smiling indulgently at her own silliness. She loved to watch the skirts rise and fall heavily as she moved, making her think of ripples and waves and liquid.
Finally, it was time for the shoes. She took out a box from her closet almost reverently, running her hand along the smooth cardboard. Her footwear was perfect for what she had planned. Checking her hands, she made sure that they were clean. No dirtiness could mar the beauty of the shoes it had taken her so long to find, even with Candy's help. Her hands, as always, were clean, if callused from long hours spent with her roses that drew blood as they warmed a heart.
They were ballet slippers, but without the hard toe of a professional ballerina. They were a deep green that matched her dress, satin and perfect in the glaring light of her half-bald lamp. She had meant to replace the light shade since the first week in the manor, but had forgotten. Unlike the many things elsewhere, she had no talent for remembering what went on in this small room.
She slipped them onto her feet, dreaming of Cinderella. This is how she must have felt, putting on glass slippers to go to a ball, never imagining that the prince would love her. Lily would rather have her shoes. Glass would be pretty, but not nearly as easy to dance in. Dancing as Lily knew it would break any set of heels, with leaps and landings that were not planned, but were a spontaneous expression of the moment.
She laced the ribbons up her calves. They crossed neatly, making her ankles look lighter than usual. She tied the bows carefully. They were discreet, but as perfect as she could make them. Large bows were too ostentatious for her tastes. Satisfied that they were on properly, she practiced a pair of simple leaps and a few quick steps, spinning to complete her test. As she had thought, they were perfect.
She looked into the back of her wardrobe, where dust gathered. The other item had been removed earlier, the dust shaken from it with vigor. There was one other thing in the shadows, a thing that she had not touched since her arrival here. She had not needed it, and remembered what was said of the thing. She turned it in her hands, watching it glint in the light. So odd, that such an object could be thought of as dangerous.
It was a pen. The nib was silver, but the rest was a clear emerald that, if opaque, would have matched her shoes. It sloped and curved gently, resembling the gentle waves of a calm sea. This harmless little pen was something that Lily had to fight the urge to throw away, to melt, to burn, to destroy. She knew what it could be.
She took a piece of paper from the untouched stack on the desk, and wrote a simple note on it. Lily knew that someone would be able to read it soon. She had not written since the day of her arrival, and she had taken back the small slip of paper. It wouldn't do for someone to translate it ahead of time. That would make her task easier, but would be cheating. She could not short the promise. It was the same for everyone, and would have been the same for her, except for a few important factors.
Yet again, the message was not in English. It was written in some other language, one that was spoken by few. Her name was in the message. Her cursive was painstakingly neat, even if the words were nonsensical. All would be clear, in time. She read over her message a final time, checking for errors, before setting it on her pillow. She doubted that she would sleep tonight.
The ball would begin in just a few minutes. Lily glanced at herself a final time, surprised at this sudden obsession with her reflection. She told that it came from being nervous, but knew the real reason. She just refused to admit it, to herself or anyone else. She would not bring up such a topic before the event. No matter how strong the feeling that everything would go horribly wrong, she would not ruin the party. She would leave pleasant memories behind, leaving wonder and, maybe, a little bit of regret. That would be enough. It had to be.
She would be leaving the next morning. No one else knew. She had not given any signal. She left her room resolutely. All that she would leave behind would be organized drawers with folded outfits, a few pairs of shoes, a dark green pair of ballet slippers, and a note. The pen would come with her. It was hers, after all, no matter how much she did not want the small object. She knew exactly what it was.
The party's guests were waiting outside. Derek would open the front doors at exactly seven, and not a moment earlier. Maddie, Candy, and Mako were having a quick discussion with the catering staff hired to keep a small buffet filled while offering drinks. Jesse and Sirene would make a grand entrance once the guests were in the ballroom. The band stopped their rehearsal, waiting for the guest of honor's arrival before they would play again. Video camera technicians checked microphones, cameras, feed, and the many other things that were a part of their job.
Lily made her way into the ballroom, walking past reporters and the band to a back corner. The large bouquet of roses, perfect and sweet-smelling, would hide her from the view of all but the most determined. This was the amount of attention she would prefer. She would not embarrass any involved, but would be a silent figure in the corner. She wouldn't draw attention from the media, who still craned to look at the entrance.
The reporter she had spoken to earlier had watched the girl past. She shook her head, knowing she had made a mistake. The reporter's smooth black hair waved abruptly, cut short to show that she was a woman who meant business. The female in the emerald evening gown was no girl. She was a woman, and the reporter was a fool for not guessing sooner. She swore by Japanese ancestors to talk to the gir- woman, after the mess of a party was done. No one mentioned her name yet, but someone here would know. Perhaps the woman who was supervising the caterers would. About to follow the woman, the reporter remained still. The party was starting, and her job depended on listing all events of the party. She had to know who was there, what they wore, what they ate, who they kissed, and exactly who the fiancée Jesse Dalton was rumored to announce was.
The guests looked around, in various stages of awe. Even the richest had not seen the room's like. It was something from a fairy tale, with the gauzy wall hangings. The caterers moved forward to offer food and drinks, somber in dark suits that weren't quite tuxedos or reserved black gowns that were as noticeable as a shadow in a dark room. The band was poised, ready to begin playing. The conductor watched the doorway, waiting for the grand entrance that meant music would begin.
Jesse Dalton looked like the prince from the book of fairy tales he had thrown into a shelf, as one would throw dirty socks into the hamper. His hair, bleached blonde from his frequent, if clumsy, surfing, was somehow mussed and perfect at once. He had brown eyes, and met the gaze of all the truly important reporters. It always was nice to have the press on one's side. His tuxedo was black, and it appeared to match his tie until the correct light made the dullest of purple apparent. But few eyes remained on him, as stunning as he was, when Sirene entered.
She smiled at the room, a chilling expression, but only a few people saw the coldness. She wore a low-cut evening gown of a fabric that matched his tie. It was a daring fit, but no one critiqued it. Instead, fashion reporters scribbled furiously, knowing that they had to get their assistants working immediately. By tomorrow, this new design of dress would be fashion. The reporters with cameras zoomed in to frame Sirene in the lens, for the moment ignoring the celebrity whose birthday they were there to celebrate.
Lily watched the two. They were perfect for each other. From what Candy had said, Jesse never had been a very nice person. From what Lily knew and could prove with examples, if any could ever understand, Sirene was never going to be a nice person. She may have been one once, long ago, but that time was over. This woman was no man's friend, not really, just as he was no woman's friend. Lily was disgusted to learn what "courtship" was among the rich, the famous,and the playboys of society.
He had been wrong for her all along. She just had been too blind to notice it. If he was wrong for her, then the fluttery feeling she had felt when she first met him was nothing but nervousness, and much more concern. She would be glad to leave. Perhaps Candy would miss her, and Maddie and Mako, but they would be all. Derek may miss having someone to tend roses, and she ignored the fact that he had once told her she was the most trustworthy girl he had ever met. His new girlfriend, the doctor, would make him forget about some girl he had hired. Mako and Candy would be happy together.
Maddie knew. Lily could only begin to say how Maddie had figured it out. The cook had been the one to help her to her room that first night of work, when Lily's sore feet were the worst they had ever been. It was a small comfort, that Maddie would know why she had to leave, why she could never stay. At least it was there. One person knew the truth. Mako had known her before, but she knew he couldn't speak of it. Maddie would.
Someday, after years had passed, Jesse may wonder in some passing thought where the silent girl who had once stood on a beach, looking at the water, had gone. He may mature, and find out that she had always felt a way that he could or would not reciprocate. He may not believe, but his kind rarely did. Even when the truth stands directly in front of them, dancing and humming and loving the roses to life, they do not see until it is gone.
Lily barely heard the music as the couple began to dance. They would have the first number all to themselves. The conductor had picked a relatively short one, not knowing if the pair could dance. He needn't have worried. Sirene led them serenely around the dance floor, and the pair only had eyes for each other. So it would seem, at least. Sirene looked away once, directly at Lily. It was a challenge and a triumph. Sirene had won, and next she would collect everything.
"Jesse," Sirene breathed in his ear. "The music is almost finished." She pouted, a flawless act. No one could see through it, unless they expected something else. Jesse expected only that she truly cared about him.
He loved her voice. It was the voice of the singer that had saved his life. He had told Candy this, the last time she spoke to him. Candy denied that this woman had saved his life. Jesse knew that she was probably just jealous. That was more than likely why she had forced Sirene's secretary to quit his job. Sirene had been mad about that, madder than he had ever seen her, though her control slipped only for a second.
"We have all night to dance," he said, just as quietly. Some conversations were not made to be shared with others. "And I have the most beautiful dancing partner here." This was slightly louder. He didn't care who heard his statement.
Lily did. She had watched them dance to the edge of the dance floor, and shivered to hear Sirene's voice. She still could hear the undertone to it, dangerous and wild. He can say that, if he wants, she told herself. It'll take more than a few words to break my heart. They were brave words, but true. He couldn't break her heart tonight, because he had done it about four months ago, when he welcomed someone new into the house without a single negative comment, or a rebuttal to anything said against her.
She wanted nothing more than to flee, to retreat, to stop torturing herself by watching. Instead, she was just another person watching the couple kiss quickly as the music ended. She was one of four people not holding an unwieldy object to clap for them. She was a good sport, but not that good. No one was.
