Anna walked slowly across the large room, going directly to the big window. With wide eyes, she looked out to see a scene that resembled the night sky—only it was brighter and flashing and a bit frightening. She gasped to see all the lights and colors and shapes. She finally reached for the thick soft curtains, pulled them shut, and stepped back to catch her breath. It was just too much!
Turning away, she continued to take in the room, studying the details of luxurious furnishings, beautiful lamps, big mirrors, thick rugs. Everything was so fancy, she couldn’t imagine how anyone actually lived here. She was afraid to touch anything. When she finally put her hand on the silky bedding, she jumped at three quick knocks on the bedroom door.
“Miss Madison?” called the housekeeper’s voice from the hallway.
“Yes?”
“You need my help?”
Anna glanced around, wondering what she could possibly need help with when everything in this room looked perfectly immaculate. Unless the housekeeper could give her some fashion advice, which seemed unlikely.
“No thank you, Nadya,” Anna called out. “I am fine.” Quit sounding so “prim and proper,” as Garret put it, she warned herself as she removed the short boots that were starting to hurt her feet. Talk like Madison. Otherwise everyone is going to be suspicious.
Anna noticed what she assumed was a television. Oh, she’d seen a television before, in a store, but it had been small and boxy whereas this one was large and flat. She knew from reading books that televisions were operated with things you could pick up and hold in your hand—things that were called remotes—but she had never seen one. She went over to the big black screen and studied it closely. If she could only figure how to turn this thing on, it might be helpful. She could listen to the way the English spoke and see how they acted and do a better job imitating.
Next to the television, she spied a black object that resembled Madison’s phone. Was that the remote? She read the tiny words by the buttons. Although they made little sense, she tried pressing them: Info, Tools, Return, Menu . . . nothing. Then she pressed Power, and suddenly the black screen came to life. She jumped back as she heard a woman talking. Anna studied her curiously. She was telling about how she lost weight using something called Metaboglycemic and how “for only $19.95, you can too.” Anna stared at two images of the woman—or so the television was telling her—one before, one after.
Anna blinked and stepped away. The English used pills to lose weight? Perhaps she should tell Aunt Rachel about this. But right now she needed to change her clothes.
Where did Madison keep her clothes? Certainly not hanging on pegs like at Anna’s house. She opened a door and was surprised to see that it was another bathroom. She remembered the floor plan Madison had drawn. All the bedrooms had their own bathrooms, and this one was much bigger than the powder room. Everything in it was white and sky-blue and beautiful. The bathtub was huge and shiny, and there was a giant glass box that Anna supposed was a shower. She’d heard of such luxuries before, but besides the spray hose in their bathtub, her house did not have one. Unless she counted her father’s cleaning station out by the barn, where he and her brothers sometimes hosed off the mud before coming into the house.
She opened some of the drawers to see all kinds of curious things, and she opened some cupboard doors to reveal stacks of beautiful linens, but she saw no clothes in here. Then she remembered another door in the big bedroom—perhaps it was a cupboard with clothes. When she opened it, she thought it was yet another room, except that it was filled with shoes and purses and clothes that were hung up with wooden hangers, like the store where she’d purchased the scarf.
With her mouth open, Anna just stood and stared. This room was obviously Madison’s clothing closet, but it looked bigger than the bedroom Anna shared with her little sister Katie. All this for clothes? Anna just shook her head in wonder.
Now she needed to pick out something to wear. But where to begin? Anna started by removing her clothes, and it felt good to get out of those blue jeans. Oh, she knew from reading English novels that they weren’t really boys’ pants, but they weren’t all that comfortable either. She missed her loose cotton dresses. As she recalled from books, girls often wore dresses on dates.
She went to the section of the closet that had dresses—at least she thought they were dresses. They were all quite short. She studied the dresses of every color and every fabric imaginable. Or even unimaginable. She blinked at a red one that glittered like jewels, then put it back where she’d gotten it. Next she pulled out a black one that glistened with hundreds of tiny glass beads. How long it must have taken to sew all those beads on. It was pretty, but how could she wear a dress that was so short? She held one up that seemed longer, but still it would be well above her knee. What would Mamm and Daed say? Well, she couldn’t think about that now.
Anna heard something like bells chiming in the bedroom. Madison’s phone! She ran to the purse and dug for the phone. “Hello?” she breathlessly answered.
“I know, I know,” said an unfamiliar female voice. “I wasn’t going to call you—and really you don’t deserve to be called—but it’s been almost twelve hours and I am totally desperate. Madison, you have got to come down here. I mean it. Seriously, I cannot do this without you. You must come immediately!”
“I . . . I can’t.” Anna took in a breath. This had to be Vivian, the best friend who wanted Madison to come stay with her.
“You mean you won’t,” Vivian snapped. “You’re supposed to be my best friend and that’s the best you can do? You are useless.”
“I am sorry.” Anna didn’t know what else to say.
“Please come.” Her voice softened. “I’m begging you.”
“I’m sorry. I cannot come. It’s impossible.”
“I am dying here, Madison. You have to come!”
“Dying?” Anna felt alarmed.
“It is so freaking boring! I want to drown myself in the pool right now. Please come, Madison. It’ll be fun. I promise.”
“I can’t.” Anna was standing in the doorway to the closet. She needed to get off the phone and find something to wear. “I have a date with Garret and—”
“Are you insane? Why are you going out with that lowlife? You said you were going to take a long break from him. It’s been like one day. What is wrong with you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why do you sound so weird? Seriously, Madison, you do not sound like yourself. Are you sick or something?”
“I . . . I’m well. I just need to get dressed.” Anna was tempted to ask Vivian for some fashion advice but suspected that would be a mistake.
“Fine! Be that way. Next time you want me to do something for you, you can just forget it. I am so over you, Madison!”
“I am sorry,” Anna said again.
“If you’re sorry, why don’t you—”
That was it. No other words came out, just silence. Anna looked at the phone to see that the little screen was dark. She shook it and looked again. Still dark. Was it broken? Or had she done something wrong?
She shrugged and set it down, then turned toward the television, where several women were all talking at once in agitated voices. The women looked little older than Anna, but in the next picture, they were all smiling and they all wore dresses similar to those in Madison’s closet. Anna watched as words came across the screen—The Real Housewives of New York City. She moved closer to the television, studying how these real housewives looked. Certainly nothing like the wives in Anna’s community. But then she knew that everything was different here. This was how people in New York dressed.
She returned to the closet, finally picking out a sleeveless dark blue dress in a shiny fabric. This would be an acceptable color in her community. Almost all shades of blue, many shades of purple, and some subdued red tones, as well as pastels (on younger women) were common. Dark blue was quite respectable for most any age and any occasion. Of course, that was nearly all that would be
respectable about this garment.
Anna looked through some of the drawers to find very interesting sorts of undergarments, hosiery, and other things. She picked a pair of black stockings, hoping that would help make up for the length of the dress, then she found a pair of black shoes. After a few minutes, she managed to dress herself, but when she looked at her reflection in the mirror, she couldn’t help but laugh. She did not look right. Her white cotton undergarments peeked out from beneath the dress, and the black stockings and shoes . . . well, she was no expert, but she knew they were all wrong too.
Still wearing this outfit, she studied the television, hoping to get some fashion direction, but now there was a woman dancing around in undergarments—very skimpy undergarments that were red as blood. Anna blinked then stared. She was shocked that someone would want to be on television dressed like that—for all the world to see. But now she realized that if she was going to dress like a modern Englisher girl, she would need to wear Madison’s undergarments as well.
Starting over, she returned to the closet and peeled off the clothes, this time putting on some of Madison’s skimpy undergarments. It felt strange, and she could not imagine ever letting anyone—certainly not the whole television world—see her in these things. Then she put the blue dress back on.
Now that looked better. Except for her bare legs, which, unlike the TV women’s, were pale. She picked up the black hose again, deciding she didn’t care if she was less fashionable than Madison. If she felt more covered in these stockings, that was her choice. Instead of the high-heeled shoes, she picked out a pair of brown suede boots that were actually quite comfortable. Then she found a little purple sweater that she put on over the dress.
She looked at her image in the mirror again and frowned. She looked nothing like the housewives of New York City. Knowing it was probably hopeless, she decided she didn’t care. Perhaps she would pretend that Madison had experienced some kind of life-changing revelation, that she had decided to toss fashion to the wind.
Because she was missing her kapp, Anna looked through a collection of hats, finally selecting a bright pink one. Before she put in on, she braided her hair in two pigtails just like her mother used to do when she was a little girl.
She laughed to see her reflection now. She would probably scare Garret off with this strange getup. Perhaps that would be a good thing. Just for fun, she put a shiny red belt around her waist, then looked through Madison’s jewelry collection. Finding a big brooch filled with lots of colorful jewels, she pinned it to the sweater and nodded with satisfaction. She looked a bit like a rainbow, or perhaps like one of the more colorful quilts that she sometimes helped to put together with the other women in her community.
To this colorful collection of garments, she added the orange purse that she’d been carrying all day. When she emerged from the bedroom, Nadya, who was standing nearby pretending to dust, stared at her with a shocked expression. As if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.
“How do I look?” Anna asked, suppressing the urge to giggle.
Nadya nodded with a bewildered expression. “You, uh, you look good, Miss Madison.”
“Thank you!” Feeling Nadya’s eyes still on her, Anna opened the front door. “See you later,” she called, hoping she sounded more like Madison than she looked.
Anna pushed the only button by the elevator and waited for the doors to open and close. Nothing happened. She looked at all the buttons with all the numbers and wondered what to do. Put in the card and push 26 again? She was about to dig out the notes, but suddenly the elevator started to go down all by itself. She felt a bit nervous but thought maybe the elevator knew what it was doing. It stopped and the doors opened. Thinking it must be the lobby, Anna started to get out.
“Cool your jets.” A short, dark-haired girl gently pushed Anna back into the elevator. “This isn’t the lobby, silly.”
“Oh?” Anna blinked at her. She had very short hair, big dark eyes, and was wearing a black dress topped by a bright jacket of yellow and red.
“Didn’t you push it?” The girl reached over to the row of lit-up number buttons, pushing the one with an L on it, and just like that, the elevator began going down again.
Push the L button, Anna told herself, to go down. L must be for lobby.
“What are you wearing?” The girl stared at Anna curiously.
Anna shrugged. “This and that.”
The girl laughed. “It looks like a Madison Van Buren original.”
Anna tried not to look shocked. Obviously, this girl knew Madison. But who was she?
The girl looked more closely at her. “Seriously, Madison, it’s not a bad look. Kudos to you for trying something new.”
“Thank you.” Anna nodded, wondering what kudos were.
“Too bad you’re not interested in helping with Fashion Fling this year.”
Anna frowned. What was a fashion fling? Throwing clothes, perhaps?
“But then I guess you don’t care about starving Haitian orphans or—”
“I do care,” Anna insisted. Just then the elevator stopped and the doors opened, and there standing in the lobby was Garret. At first he smiled, but then as if seeing her better, he looked somewhat confused.
“Hey, Madison,” he said as he stepped toward the elevator.
“You’re not still with that loser, are you?” The strange girl said this quietly, then shook her head as if disappointed.
“Hello, Lucinda.” Garret spoke in a flat-sounding voice, as if merely being polite but not caring much for this girl.
Lucinda just rolled her dark eyes at him and continued walking, her red high heels clicking on the stone floor ahead of them. Once outside, she was joined by several other young people who must have been waiting for her.
“Too bad you had to run into Ms. Tompkins,” Garret said with mock sympathy. “Hopefully she didn’t spoil your appetite.”
Anna gave him a smirky smile. Now she knew the girl’s name was Lucinda Tompkins, and that Garret and Lucinda were not friends. “No, I still have an appetite,” she assured him as they went outside.
“Interesting ensemble you’re wearing tonight.” He glanced curiously at her.
“Thank you very much.” She faked a smile. “I felt like doing something different.”
He nodded. “You can say that again.”
“Haven’t you heard? Change is good.” She waited as he opened the door to the black car. She remembered reading that line in a book, always wishing she could use it.
He gave her a sideways glance. “Seriously, Madison, did you just say change is good?”
She nodded as she slid across the smooth seat, pushing the hem of her skirt closer to her knees and trying not to cringe at the shortness.
He laughed as he sat down next to her. “That does not sound like my Maddie.”
She shrugged. “Maybe it’s because I’m changing.”
“I’ll say.”
“Lucinda asked me about Fashion Fling,” Anna began carefully. Mostly she wanted to change the subject, but she was also curious about that girl.
“Don’t tell me you’re thinking about modeling for her ridiculous fund-raiser?”
“What’s wrong with raising money for Haitian orphans?” She imitated Lucinda in her challenge to him.
“Just make a donation like you did last year.”
She folded her arms across her front and leaned back.
He turned to study her. “Okay, Maddie, I have to know. What is going on with you?” He plucked at one of her braids, then shook his head. “I mean first you run off to—what, Amish land? Then you’re riding around on a bus? What’s up with that?”
“It’s a long story,” she told him again. As the words came out of her mouth, she knew exactly what kind of a story it was going to be. Part true, part imagination . . . and hopefully helpful to her mission. Because that, she had decided, was what this week was going to be. A mission to find Jacob.
“I’d like to hear it,” Garr
et said.
She repeated the tale Madison had told her, saying how she was fed up with everything, how there was too much stress, and how she’d driven west and gone looking for the simple life. Because it was true—for Madison anyway—it sounded believable.
He laughed. “Seriously? You did that?”
She nodded.
He still looked skeptical. “Where’s your car then?”
Anna took in a slow breath, wondering how to answer this one. “Well . . . it broke down.”
“Broke down?”
Fortunately, the driver had pulled over, and it was time for them to get out and go into the restaurant, which allowed her more time to stitch the story together in her head. It was similar to quilt making, fitting in different shapes and sizes, sewing them neatly together to make one whole quilt. She would attempt to make one whole story.
After a bit, they were seated at a table in the crowded and noisy restaurant. Although she’d read about people ordering food in books, she had no idea how to go about it. Despite being in English, or partly, the menu seemed like a different language. The only restaurant she had eaten in, and only a couple of times, served simple foods like steak and potatoes or macaroni and cheese. Nothing like this. To her relief, Garret offered to order for both of them.
“Unless you’ve changed about liking that too,” he said cautiously.
“No, no,” she said quickly. “Not yet anyway.”
“Right.” He spoke directly to the waiter, ordering strange-sounding things she’d never heard of before. She just hoped she could eat them without looking too ridiculous—or getting sick.
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