S.E.C.R.E.T. (Secret 1)

“Cassie. Cassie Robichaud.”

“Robichaux? Of the Mandeville Robichauxs?”

By then I was shocked to see Will at the booth, offering his hand to Pierre.

“She spells it with a Northern D, not a Southern X,” he said.

“Well, if it isn’t Will Foret the Second. What’s it been? Fifteen years?”

I watched in amazement as my Will shook hands with the Pierre Castille, Tracina pushing through the crowd to reach them.

“About that long, yeah.”

“Good to see you, Will,” he said. “Too bad our fathers aren’t around. They’d have been happy to see this.”

“Yours, maybe,” Will said, tipping his Huck hat. “Cassie, I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

I watched him walk right past Tracina and out the door.

“So, Cassie Robichaud, not from Mandeville. Where were we?”

“Funnily enough I live on Mandeville Street in Marigny, but I’m from Michigan. But it’s a French name from my dad’s side. But I’m not sure really about its origins …” You’re talking too much, Cassie!

“Right. I’ll be sure to stop by the booth to make a donation before I leave,” he said, bowing slightly.

Rich, powerful people didn’t easily dazzle me, but this man had charisma.

Suddenly, Tracina was eager to volunteer. “I’ll take over from here,” she said, ducking behind the booth. “Will left, so I can stay and help. You can go home now. Besides, you don’t have a costume.”

“Did you know Will knew him?” I asked.

“They’re childhood friends.”

“I see. Okay, then. Um, I guess it’s time for me to leave.”

“Yes, run really fast,” she said, not looking at me, watching Pierre take a seat near the front of the room.

The bachelorette auction would soon be under way. I looked down at my outfit. Tracina had been right all along. I was just the scullery maid. Now that the dishes were done, it was time to go. I made my way through the lobby, looking for Will. Instead I spotted Matilda talking on a cell phone, heading straight for me. She said goodbye to whomever she was speaking with and snapped the phone shut. That’s when I noticed her costume, a stunning mermaid dress covered in emerald sequins, a small crown perched on her head.

“Cassie! Wait! Where are you going?”

“I finished my shift at the donation booth. I’m going home. Thanks by the way for the donation. It was very gen—”

“No, you’re not going home,” she said, grabbing me by the arm, turning me around and trotting me towards a door marked PRIVATE. “I realize we’ve kept this well under wraps, but tonight is … well, it’s your special night, Cassie.”

“Tonight?” I said, realizing with a shock that she meant she had a fantasy in store for me. “But I’m wearing—”

“Don’t worry. Help is on the way.”

She waved a card at a small white security box on the wall and a door clicked open. Inside was a cozy dressing room where Amani and another woman I vaguely recognized were perched on silk-covered stools. They stood when we entered, agitation on their faces. To their left was a dressing table with a mirror framed by lightbulbs, makeup carefully organized on a white towel. Hanging on a rack nearby was a beautiful pale pink dress that hung to the floor. I wasn’t really a girly-girl, but this satiny ball gown tickled something very ancient in my DNA. Beneath it was a pair of stunning sparkly pumps.

Matilda cleared her throat.

“We’ll explain later, Cassie, but for now, we have to get you ready. Fast. It’s about to begin.”

“What’s about to begin?”

“Never mind,” she said.