Chapter 80

Sarah POV

Practice interviews aside, Chloe and Grace made it clear they felt the real contribution they could make for my and Zane’s appearance on Darleen’s Den was to make sure I bought the right outfit.

“I need to start introducing you two as my personal stylists,” I told them, and they instantly started calling themselves “Madam Grace” and “Lady Chloe.”

When Saturday came around and they didn’t have lessons, we got Ollie to take us downtown for some serious shopping and lunch time. I admitted to myself I was nervous, but also admitted I had cause to be. It was our first unprotected public outing since the Children’s Hunger Bank incident. Bodyguards or not, I felt horribly naked as I stepped out of the car and made sure the girls followed.

Followed by our two guards for the day, I and the girls stepped through the entrance to Au Bon Marche. Despite Ella, I had very fond memories of shopping for the girls’ dresses here, and I wanted to treat myself this time. Also, the department store had a section for high-level athletic wear, and the girls needed new jodhpurs. They’d both grown an inch in the last week, it seemed like.

I was looking around for the women’s American sportswear, which I figured would be just the thing for a daytime talk show, when two teenage beta she-wolves stepped up to me. I had an impression of multiple tattoos and facial piercings as they advanced, and I think they would have touched me if Mike hadn’t gotten in the way.

“You’re Sarah Astor!” gushed the one on the right, whose likely brown hair had been dyed a deep, variegated blue. “Oh, my goddess!”

“Can we get a selfie?” asked the one on the right, and though her hair looked to be a natural dishwater blond, she was wearing contacts that made her eyeballs look like black stars. I felt Grace lean against my leg.

Mike was about to say something when a firm voice cut in. “Now, now, girls. You know better than that.”

I looked to the right to see a saleswoman, probably a floor manager, walking up to us with a displeased expression for the two teenagers.

“Do you want me to tell your parents about your behavior today, accosting someone because you actually saw them on the news? What are you going to do next? Start up a fan club?”

The two girls shrunk in on themselves and mumbled apologies to “Mrs. Fisher.”

“It’s all right,” I told them all. I smiled calmly. “I don’t mind doing a selfie some other time, but I am here with—”

“It’s Grace and Chloe!” shrieked the blonde, pointing.

“That is enough!” Mrs. Fisher stepped forward with tight fury. I half-expected her to breathe fire. “Get out of my department store before I have you thrown out!”

Oh, I thought, the general manager then.

The girls left, their gazes on the floor, before Mrs. Fisher turned to me and asked in a pleasant tone, “And how may we help you and your family today?”

“I was looking for American sportswear,” I managed.

“Oh, for your appearance on Darleen’s Den?” she asked, then added at my surprised look: “They’ve been promoting it for days. An excellent choice of attire. Too many women go on that show looking like they’re either going to prom or a rave.”

I laughed a little nervously.

“If you’ll follow me,” she asked, then turned to walk toward the escalator.

I made sure Chloe and Grace were in tow and did as she asked.

With Mrs. Fisher’s excellent help, I was able to decide on an outfit without feeling overwhelmed by the choices. To my deep gratitude, she asked the girls their opinions on things and responded to their suggestions with appropriately sensible alterations.

Soon, I was standing in front of a set of mirrors in a beige-and-brown-striped silk blouse that crisscrossed over my bodice and set off my arms with short bell sleeves. The pattern and fabric were matched with a pair of slightly flared slacks, and the overall effect almost looked like a fine work of origami.

Mrs. Fisher stated with satisfaction that the design was “inspired by McCardell’s classic,” and I nodded like I knew what that meant.

We accessorized after that with shoes, purse, and even a necklace that settled perfectly inside the sweetheart-like cut of the blouse.

I had it all sent to the villa and signed for a large tip for Mrs. Fisher, who insisted we have lunch in the store’s restaurant. I said we didn’t have reservations, and she made a short call and sent us up in the elevator.

We attracted attention as we were taken to our table, but by now I had learned enough to take cues from Grace’s experience with public attention and Chloe’s confident bravery, and we followed the maître d' across the room in calm single-file.

After our delicious lunch, we got the girls new riding pants and were about to look at the hacking jackets when they needed the little girls’ room. I took them inside the one closest to us and walked into the lavish lounge with a smile. They went on into the stalls, and I sat down on a plush green settee to wait.

Two alpha she-wolves with perfectly fitted and beautifully accessorized outfits came in, took one look at me, and exchanged somewhat disgusted glances. The one in red and black looked down her nose and said in a saccharine tone, “There is a ladies’ room over in the purses.”

It took me a second, but then I realized this fancy bathroom had doubtlessly once been a wolves-only facility. The human ladies room must be in “the purses.”

“Thank you for your concern,” I said drily.

“I’m not concerned about you,” she replied. “I just think you’ve gotten yourself a little lost.”

“I’m not lost,” I said. “I’m waiting.”

“What you are is inappropriate,” the other one told me. “Don’t make us speak to the manager.”

“And tell the manager what, exactly?” I asked.

“Mommy?” Chloe asked. She and Grace were standing in the doorway to the stalls. I smiled and opened my arms to them, and they came over for hugs.

“Just like your father,” I told them. “Always showing up just in time to rescue me.” I stood up with their hands in mine, and then I looked to the door, in front of which now stood two disconcerted she-wolves.

Yeah, that’s right,” I thought.

“Oh, your goddess-daughters are charming,” the one in red and black said.

“Yes,” I said. “They are. Now, if you’ll excuse us, I have some dresses to try on.” I looked at them pointedly until they moved out of our way.

We walked out through the make-up section, and I didn’t need any, but then I found my feet slowing.

“What is that pretty smell?” I asked, looking around before spotting a counter covered in perfumes. I couldn’t help walking forward.

“I don’t smell anything,” Chloe said loudly.

The beta who appeared behind the counter as if by magic laughed, but it was done kindly.

“You’re too young, dear,” she explained, and I heard a trace of a French accent in her voice. “But wait until you’ve started your cycles. You’ll love it.”

Her perfectly manicured hands held up a bottle that indeed proved to be the source of the delicious aroma. She gestured to my wrist, which I put up, and then sprayed a little on my skin. I swear it actually tingled.

“This is the latest in the She-Wolf Delights line, from Galimard. We only carry a small amount, but it’s the perfect gift for a woman to give herself.”

“It is,” I agreed with a smile, keeping the disappointment I was feeling off my face. I couldn’t very well wear a perfume meant for werewolves. For one thing, I might be allergic and really needed to wash it off as soon as possible. For another, what would people think?

“I’m sure Daddy would like you to get it,” Grace said, and though it was very quiet it was confident, which warmed me even more than the smell of the perfume.

“Thank you, honey,” I said while I shook my head just slightly at the saleswoman. “But I think we’ll leave it until next time. After all, we’ve got tacos to eat.

I gathered the girls’ hands again and walked out with determination. From the corner of my eye I saw a teenage girl whispering with a friend, and they were holding up their phones. Had they just taken photos of the girls?