The Cinderella Moment by Jennifer Kloester

eyes beneath straight black brows and thick dark hair with only the tiniest bit of grey at his ears. He was tall and lean, with an infectious rumbling laugh that made Angel giggle just hearing it.
    As soon as he saw them, he'd stop whatever work he was doing, stretch out his long frame, and draw them across to one of the big squishy leather armchairs by the fire.
    Lily would climb onto his lap, snuggle down and demand a story while Angel sat on a cushion on the floor by Philip’s knee. She’d lean her head against the arm of the chair and sometimes, if he was engrossed in the story, Philip would run his fingers through her hair. Angel loved that because it reminded her of Papa.
    When they were settled Philip would read aloud or tell them a fairytale or—Angel’s favorite—make up his own story and they would take turns telling the ending. Angel would stare into the fire and think hard about what the hero might do now that Philip had him locked in a dark dungeon or stranded on some dangerous mountaintop in a storm. She’d imagine a fearless prison guard’s daughter smuggling him out through a secret passage, or a poor but beautiful peasant girl who’d braved the raging tempest to bring him to safety.
    Lily usually scoffed at these romantic resolutions and whenever it was her turn to make up the ending she’d offer some dramatic yet practical conclusion like the hero making a speech in court and proving his innocence or skiing down the mountainside and saving the village in the valley below.
    But whatever the story or its ending, it was magical just being there.
    Philip and Lily’s relationship had always been special and Angel had thought they had an unbreakable bond.
    Until last Christmas.
    Lily had gone up to Philip’s study to see if he’d take her ice-skating at Rockefeller Center, and when she’d come down it was as if a door had closed somewhere inside her and not even Angel had been able to break it down.
    Angel sighed, put down her pins and eyed the velvet thoughtfully. She’d expected Lily back by now. It was getting late—maybe she should put off cutting the velvet until tomorrow. It’d be a slow process because the fabric marked easily and she had to ensure the nap faced the same way on each piece. Still, if she stayed up, Lily might return and tell her what Margot had wanted.
    Angel picked up her scissors. The sooner she got cutting, the sooner she could start sewing.
    As she smoothed out the velvet, she wondered what Margot could be talking to Lily about for so long. Maybe Philip had called from South America or Lily had forgotten a Junior League meeting again and Margot had insisted on taking her. Or maybe Margot had decided to have a heart-to-heart with her…
    “Don’t be ridiculous,” said Angel aloud. “Lily wouldn’t have stayed five minutes.”
    She pushed the thought away. If she were going to cut the velvet, she needed to focus.
    By midnight she was done and the velvet lay in pieces on her bed. This was her ball gown—all she needed to do was sew it together.
    Angel smiled. It was such an easy thought—but sewing the gown together and making it look exactly like her design was going to take every minute of the time left before she had to send her entry to Paris.
    She put on her pajamas and got into bed. She lay awake for a while, thinking about Lily and the Teen Couture, and only realized she’d fallen asleep when a hand on her arm woke her.
    “Lily? Is that you?”
    “Who else?” Lily switched on the bedside lamp.
    “Are you okay? You never came back. What did Margot want?”
    “To ruin my life.”
    Angel froze. “Margot’s found out about London?”
    “Worse. She’s had a letter from my grandmother.”  

 
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Seven
     
     
    Angel stared. “A letter?’ she said at last.
    Lily nodded.
    “From your grandmother?”
    “Yes.”
    “The one in Paris?”
    “I’ve only got one grandmother,” said Lily.
    “Yes, but she never gets in touch,”