The Summerhouse (The Summerhouse 1)

Ellie smiled back. It was on the tip of her tongue to blurt out, Where did you get that body of yours and can I buy one too? but she restrained herself. Before she’d left for New York, her mother had had one of her little talks with her daughter about keeping her mouth shut and thinking before she spoke.

But before Ellie could say a word, she felt The Gorgeous One on the other side of her turning. The dancer’s head lifted as she looked over Ellie to the blonde creature beside her. When Ellie turned, her breath stopped.

Was it possible that the woman could be more beautiful up close than from across the room? She didn’t wear any makeup, yet her skin was what makeup was all about. People paid millions to try to get that perfect, creamy texture to their skin, that delicate blush, that—

Suddenly, the girl smiled, a huge, radiant smile—and Ellie’s eyes opened wide in shock. One of her front teeth was missing! There was a great black hole where her front tooth should have been. That this perfect woman should have such a flaw was . . .

“Cain’t read. Cain’t write,” the beauty said in a hillbilly accent, then grinned broadly.

While Ellie was still in shock, she heard the laughter of the dancer seated behind her.

“Madison Appleby,” said the beautiful thing; then she stretched her hand around Ellie to shake the dancer’s hand.

Ellie knew that something was going on that she wasn’t in on, but she hadn’t yet caught on.

The beauty looked down at Ellie, then extended her hand. “Madison Appleby,” she said, but Ellie didn’t move.

Then, bending, the beauty took something out of her mouth, and smiled at Ellie.

It was then that Ellie realized that the tall woman had stuck what looked like a black eraser cap over her front tooth to make it look as though one tooth was missing. And, Ellie, ever gullible, hadn’t caught on as fast as the dancer. But when Ellie did understand, she smiled—and she liked the woman instantly. That someone as beautiful as this woman was could make fun of her own pulchritude made her Ellie’s kind of person.

She shook the woman’s hand. “Too bad about the tooth,” Ellie said, smiling. “But I think everyone should have a flaw.”

“Brainlessness isn’t a flaw?” Madison asked, eyes laughing.

“I thought we were just penless,” the dancer said from behind Ellie.

“Penless and Brainless,” Madison said. “Maybe we should go on the road.”

Between them, Ellie sat blinking. Usually she was the one making the jokes, but they were beating her. “How about Legs and Face?” Ellie said.

“And what would you be?” Madison shot back, looking down her perfect nose at Ellie.

“Talent,” Ellie answered instantly; then the three of them laughed together.

And that’s how we felt about ourselves, Ellie thought as she snuggled deeper into the airplane seat. She’d pulled the shade down and had propped a pillow against the window so she could close her eyes and give herself over to the memory of that day when she’d first met Madison and Leslie.

After the dancer had lent her a pen, Ellie had filled out her form and taken it to Ira. “So what brings you two to New York?” Ellie asked when she’d returned to the bench. “Street cleaning?”

Leslie smiled. “Broadway lights,” she said dreamily. “I left the boy back home at the altar.” After she said the last, her eyes opened wide in shock. “I don’t mean I really left him at the altar, but . . . but it was close enough that I know that it was a dreadful thing for me to do.” She sounded as though she were saying a memorized speech.

“And you look sorry that you did it,” Madison said solemnly, then the three of them laughed again. “Small town?”

“Suburb just outside Columbus, Ohio,” Leslie said. “And you?”

“Erskine, Montana. Ever hear of it?”

Ellie and Leslie shook their heads no.

Ellie looked up at Madison. “Should I assume that we’ll be seeing your face on the cover of magazines?”

“I just got here yesterday, so I haven’t had time to do much of anything. I’m to go today and present my photos and—”

“Do you have them with you? Could we see them?” Ellie asked eagerly.

“I guess,” Madison said without much enthusiasm, then she bent down and picked up a large, flat, black plastic zip-around notebook and handed it to Ellie.

Eagerly, Ellie unzipped the portfolio and opened it, Leslie peering over her shoulder. There were about a dozen photos of Madison, tastefully made up, her hair neat and tidy. There were head shots and a couple of full-length pictures, all of them perfectly composed and perfectly lit. On the side of each photo was the name of a photographer in Erskine, Montana.