Falling For Henry by Beverley Brenna Page A

match. Their dad had taught them the rules and it had been fun to play singles, with Dad sometimes joining in as a competitor. Tall and athletic, he had always clearly dominated, until two summers ago when Kate had finally beaten Willow, their eight year age difference suddenly irrelevant. Then it was between Kate and her dad, and she knew that if she practiced hard enough, she could beat him, too.
    Kate sighed. Willow didn’t have any time for tennis, now. And even if she had, her bossy attitude would wreck everything. Kate felt a little pang of guilt, remembering the recent battles she’d had with her sister, but quickly shrugged it off. The fighting was Willow’s fault. Nagging and cross, her sister was such a pain. Twenty-three going on eighty-five.
    A few posters were up on Willow’s bedroom walls. Actors, mostly, but only a few Kate recognized. And one actress—Willow’s role model—Audrey Hepburn. Kate had seen Hepburn only once, on TV in a special movie presentation of Breakfast at Tiffany’s .
    Willow looks nothing like Audrey Hepburn, Kate thought, scrutinizing the picture. Willow did have a big voice, even when she wasn’t on stage. Just not big hair. She wore a wig in the production they were doing now, when she played Anne somebody-or-other to another actor’s Henry VIII. Kate had listened distractedly as Willow had told her the Shakespearian version of the history lesson, but most of what Willow had said went in one ear and out the other. Kate supposed she’d have to see the play on Preview Night next week. It was going to be boring.
    Lying over a chair in the closet was a long, blue gown that Kate thought looked rather familiar. When she lifted it up, the fabric clung to her, soft and inviting. It wasn’t yet hemmed, but pinned at the cuffs and skirt as well as down one side. Even without it being finished, Kate could tell it wasn’t meant for her tall, slim sister. This dress was of a Tudor design, similar to the dress Willow was to wear in her show, but definitely created for someone of Kate’s stature.
    Kate started pulling the dress over her head, just to see how it looked. If she’d been wearing this in that place at the end of the tunnel, she’d have totally blended in. As the fabric pressed tightly around her shoulders, she felt her breath catch in her throat. Quickly she squirmed out of the dress, the old feeling of claustrophobia catching her by surprise. Carefully replacing the outfit inside the closet, she wondered briefly if it might be meant for her, and then shook her head. Why would her sister give her a Tudor dress? Anyway, it was too tight.
    Kate slipped out of Willow’s room and closed the door. Better mind my own business, she thought, her face burning. She looked at the clock. It was almost seven! Hal would be out there waiting! She ran to the bathroom, splashed water on her face, although that just made her hot cheeks redder, and shoved the elastic from her pony tail into her jeans’ pocket, letting the soft, auburn hair swirl free against her neck.
    As Kate picked up the key from the table in the hall, she deliberated. Then, stuffing her underground pass and a few bills into her pocket, she decided not to take a purse. Might get stolen. Her navy jacket was still wet and, without a second thought, Kate ran into Willow’s room and pulled the black leather coat from the closet. What Willow didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.
    Then Kate left the flat, carefully locking the door behind her, and charged down the staircase and through the lobby, wondering where she and Hal were going. She hoped it didn’t require taking the subway. The King’s Cross underground was busy at night and often filled with disagreeable types. Drunks. Homeless people asking for spare change. People talking nonsense, out of their heads with mental illness or drugs. Or both. Kate took a deep breath and pulled open the door to the