Free Everlasting by Nancy Thayer Page A

way.”
    “Oh, Catherine. You’re so hopeless. You take everything too seriously. You can fall in love with someone, go to bed with a man, without changing your entire life! I do it all the time! Where are your hormones? Don’t tell me you haven’t wanted to go to bed with that Dutch nephew! I want to go to bed with him, and I’ve only seen him in a photograph!”
    Catherine grinned. “I suppose I do want to go to bed with him, Leslie, in my own way. But … first of all, I have to work with him, and I can’t afford to offend the Vandervelds. Besides, Piet’s not around all that much. He’s in Europe for months at a time. Also …” She hesitated. “I don’t know how to say this. I am attracted to Piet. Very attracted. I … I dream of him. But something about him scares me.”
    Leslie studied Catherine. “Baby,” she said at last, sympathetically. Then, with a rush of enthusiasm, she jumped up from her bed. “Oh, well, it’s not the end of the world. Now you’re in France, maybe you’ll get lucky. There are absolutely mobs of gorgeous men downstairs. Come on, let’s get beautiful. Maybe we’ll both get lucky tonight.”
* * *
    “ I feel like Grace Kelly at the least,” Leslie whispered to Catherine as they descended the winding stairs to the ground floor of the château.
    “I feel like Eliza Doolittle,” Catherine whispered back.
    The last time she had been so dressed up had been at a friend’s graduation party in Newport. Tonight she had real jewels on and a turquoise gown that must have cost her mother more than several months’ worth of Catherine’s salary. After three years of working in the flower shop, she had forgotten how expansive the world of the wealthy could be, making time itself relax and drape and lounge and linger.
    “Yeah, you’re a real poverty-stricken flower girl!” Leslie said.
    Catherine grinned. She wished Leslie could see how she looked during any normal working day.
    Her work gave a depth to everything she experienced that made her both proud and irritated. She knew the basement side of the world, the alley and back room side, the harsh smelly frantic side where leaves were savagely ripped from stems so the blooms would have all the water and nourishment. She was glad that she had learned all that. She prided herself on knowing secrets. At the same time, she wished she could forget it all and drift in the same dreamy world her friends inhabited—just for this one night.
    “It’s gorgeous!” Leslie said, linking arms with Catherine and pulling her close.
    They were entering the grand salon, where cocktails and hors d’oeuvres were being served to a glittering assembly of elegant people in formal dress. Various languages—French, Spanish, German, Dutch—flickered around them like colorful butterflies. Silks and satins and taffetas rustled, perfumes and laughter drifted through the air, and Leslie and Catherine took flutes of champagne from a silver tray.
    Catherine looked at the room. It was much grander even than Everly. The marble fireplace was intricately carved with garlands and figures and flowers. Along the melon silk walls hung vast oil paintings of former Croces playfully dressed as shepherds or nymphs. Enormous faience vases lushly packed with roses, lilies, delphiniums, stock, and greens were set about on antique tables inlaid with mother-of-pearl and ebony and rosewood.
    “Don’t you dare rearrange those flowers!” Leslie whispered in Catherine’s ear, making her laugh.
    “I wasn’t planning to! I was just toting up the cost in my head.”
    “How vulgar you’ve gotten, my dear!” Leslie said in her best Miss Brill’s voice. “Really, darling, can’t you let it drop for one night?”
    “All right, I will. I promise. I know I should. It’s been a long time since I’ve just enjoyed myself.”
    “Drink your champagne,” Leslie ordered. “I’m putting a spell on you. The past three years have been erased from your life. The only thing