By Private Invitation

For David, again and always.
And for Kate, who didn’t live to see this published,
but whose notes on early pages led me to the book it’s become.
Miss you.

Writing is such a solitary endeavor but publishing is not.

Thank you, Leis, for seeing what I see in this story. And for what I didn’t.

Thank you, Elaine, for your rock-steady guidance.

Thank you, Judi, just because.

Thank you, Deb, for the shoulder to whine on.

Thank you to the women of VFRW, who are always there with hugs and cheers and stickers
and chocolate.

And thank you to my sons, who know I still love them even when I don’t always feed
them.

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

“Jesus, I really hope I don’t get arrested for indecent exposure. Could you have made
my neckline
any
lower, Kate?”

Staring into the mirrored doors as they waited for the elevator in Haven Hotel, Annabelle
Elder barely recognized herself. If not for the pale green eyes and the auburn hair,
she wouldn’t have.

The woman in the reflection looked freaking amazing with her overflowing breasts and
miles of leg. But she didn’t look like any version of the Annabelle she thought she
knew.

“Of course I could have,” Kate Song huffed. “But then you
would
have been arrested. Stop fussing. You look fine, Annabelle.”

Kate reached out to fluff Annabelle’s skirt for the hundredth time, exposing more
thigh than Beyoncé on Grammy night.

“Enough already.” Annabelle swatted at Kate’s hands. “I barely recognize myself as
it is.”

“Well, that was the point, wasn’t it? A new you.”

Annabelle pulled a face at her best friend. Yes, yes. She’d said that, but—

“Hey!” She yelped and grabbed her skirt as Kate pulled it higher on her thighs. “Do
you
want
me to get arrested for soliciting? Gary the Asshole would love to see me locked away.”

“Oh, please.” Kate sighed loudly but stepped back, moving her straight black hair
off her shoulders. “That jerk deserved whatever you threw at him.” She paused and
Annabelle glanced up to see Kate’s grin. “Including his file cabinet.”

Annabelle’s nose wrinkled. “Too bad it only grazed his shoulder, the ass.”

She wished she’d taken the two-timing jerk’s head off with the thing. Or aimed a little
lower and caught his dangling bits. Little itty-bitty bits that’d been on full display
three weeks ago when she’d caught the bastard with his head between his secretary’s
legs.

Kate snapped the elasticized hem of Annabelle’s off-the-shoulder sleeve, pain zinging
up her arm.

“Ow!” She turned to Kate with a frown. “What was that for?”

“That jerk’s not worth one more second of your time.” Kate flicked her on the shoulder
for good measure. “Except to thank him for busting you out of a rut. Think of tonight
as your coming-out party.”

Annabelle tried to take a deep, calming breath but could barely manage against the
tight lacing. “I’ll be coming out of this dress if I
breathe
too deeply.”

The matching silk-and-satin fairy costumes created by Kate were masterpieces. But
where Kate’s blue bodice had a demure little dip in the front, Annabelle’s green one
angled down nearly to her belly button. Kate’s short, filmy skirt hit just above her
knee. Annabelle’s barely made it to mid-thigh. She was afraid to look at her rear
view again. The skirt was a little longer in back so she wasn’t
showing off her ass, left naked by a green satin thong, but still…

“Thank God for big-busted pop singers and all those rappers who love big-ass girls,”
Annabelle said with a sigh.

“Oh, please.” Kate snorted. “You’ve got a great figure.”

Yeah, if she was one of the women in her Victorian erotic art collection. She loved
those paintings, not only for their unabashed sexuality but because those women weren’t
skinny little girls with no tits or ass. Both of which she had in abundance.

Not that she’d ever flashed so much of it. Her friends and neighbors in Adamstown
would be scandalized if they saw her now. They only knew quiet, sedate Annabelle who’d
been so damn busy keeping her business afloat for the past year. Poor, stupid Annabelle
who should’ve dumped Gary the Asshole long ago.

At least she no longer resembled that girl. Rita Shumacher had quivered with joy from
her platinum beehive to her open-toed Manolo knockoffs when Annabelle had told her
to cut off her waist-length braid. Then the sixty-something hairdresser had worked
her magic and tamed the remaining unruly mass into sleek curls that just brushed her
shoulders.

Now Annabelle looked sexy. Confident. Ready to find a man to share her bed and her
fantasies for the night before reality returned Monday morning.

Kate yanked on the laces on the back of her dress, making Annabelle squeak.

“I know what you’re thinking and you can stop right now,” Kate said. “No business
tonight.”

Annabelle sighed. “I know, but don’t you dare.”

Kate gave an eye-roll worthy of a teenager as her hand froze midway to Annabelle’s
hem.

“You know,” Kate said, a distinct challenge in her tone, “if you
want to chicken out, we don’t have to go to the party. I’m only here to keep you company.
I don’t need a man. I already have a fiancé.”

The two tickets for the New Year’s Eve Masquerade at Haven Hotel in Philadelphia had
cost a small fortune. More than Annabelle ever would’ve considered spending for any
party.

She’d seen the ad boasting gourmet food, fine champagne, live music, and a night to
remember in a piece of newspaper wrapping an antique vase months ago. She’d thought
that it sounded like fun, but dismissed it because Gary would never agree to go, the
cheapskate. After she’d dumped him, she’d called for tickets.

The bell dinged and the elevator doors opened, whisking away her reflection as they
stepped into the empty cage for the ride to the lobby.

Annabelle squared her shoulders. “We’re going. And I
will
have fun tonight. It’s been too long since I had a good time. No one knows me here.
I can flirt with a gorgeous guy, dance all night. Maybe even get laid.” She looked
down at Kate. “Do you know how long it’s been since I had good sex?”

Her best friend since college, Kate had her Korean father’s dark eyes and his sleek,
straight hair. The rest of her was pure Italian from her late mother. The combination
gave her an exotic beauty that always made Annabelle feel like a limp dishrag next
to her.

If they hadn’t been best friends since their freshman year at Gettysburg College,
Annabelle would try to hate her. But Kate was too nice to hate. Even with her sharp
tongue, occasional foul mood, and inexplicable taste in fiancés.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Kate said. “I know how long you went out with Gary.”

“Well, I’m sick of being plain, pathetic Annabelle. Tonight, I’m going to be fun,
flirty Annabelle.”

At least, I’m going to try.

The door opened again, depositing them in the sinfully elegant lobby of Haven Hotel,
and Annabelle touched the antique pin on her bodice for luck. The six-carat, teardrop-shaped
orange citrine glowed as if lit from within.

Her grandfather had given it to her a decade ago. After her world had collapsed.

“No second thoughts.” Annabelle nodded. “It’s a new year.”

“Good for you.” Kate smacked her on the rear, making Annabelle laugh as they stepped
out of the elevator. “Now get out there and get laid.”