The Cinderella Moment by Jennifer Kloester Page B

was planning to marry Margot Kane.
    Angel looked up. “So, you don’t want to go to Paris right now, because…?”
    “Because I’m not doing anything to help Margot get what she wants and what she wants is for Dad and my grandmother to reconcile because the Comtesse knows all ‘the best people and goes to the best parties—even the Versailles Ball.’” Lily mimicked Margot’s voice perfectly.
    Angel gave her a shove. “Don’t do that, it’s scary.”
    “Sorry.” Lily hugged her knees. “Anyway, to hell with Margot. There’s no way I’m helping her marry my dad and I’m definitely not missing out on the Academy just so she can schmooze up to the Comtesse de Tourney.” She looked directly at Angel. “So those two weeks I’ll be in London.”
    “But how can you be in London when your dad and Margot want you in Paris?” asked Angel. “I mean, even if your dad were happy for you to go to drama school—which he’s not—it’s obvious he wouldn’t want you choosing that over visiting your grandmother.”
    “I don’t care! I am not having Margot as a stepmother, so I’m not going to Paris. And I’m definitely not missing out on the London Academy.”
    Angel blinked at the ferocity of Lily’s reply. “There’s always next year,” she said.
    “No way.” Lily stood up. “I’ve made up my mind: I’m going to London.”
    “But you can’t be in London and Paris at the same time. How can you?”
    “Come here.”
    Lily pulled Angel to her feet. Snapping on the light, she drew her to the mirror.
    “Look,” said Lily.
    Angel looked at Lily’s face, heart-shaped and animated, her eyes alight with mischief and then at her own puzzled reflection.
    “See?” said Lily, pointing to the mirror.
    “What?” asked Angel, mystified.
    “We could be sisters.”
    The penny dropped. “No way! Don’t even think about it.”
    “But why not?” Lily looked surprised. “We’d have an awesome time—you in Paris, me in London. Think of it, Angel—two whole weeks in the city of your dreams and no one would ever know.”
    “Oh yeah? What about your grandmother?”
    “No. That’s why it’s so brilliant. She hasn’t seen me since I was five—not even a photo—she’d never know you weren’t me.”
    “Other people would know.”
    “Nuh-uh.” Lily looked triumphant. “I haven’t been back to France—no one in Paris knows me.”
    “But what about your dad? And Margot? What’s to stop her turning up and exposing me?” demanded Angel.
    “No chance,” said Lily. “When Dad phones he never knows where I am—so London, Paris, New York—it doesn’t matter. As for Margot,” she wrinkled her nose, “she’ll be way too busy sucking up to the in-crowd out in the Hamptons.”
    “But—”
    “If you go to Paris in my place, the Comtesse will take you to all the best couture houses. Jacqueline Montague says she knows all the top designers, including Antoine Vidal. Think about it, Angel—you could meet him.”
    Angel hesitated. Imagine meeting Antoine Vidal! And seeing the great couturiers: Chanel, Dior, Versace, Givenchy, Karl Lagerfeld, Balenciaga, Oscar de la Renta, and Vidal. She might get to see his fall collection, after all.
    She imagined talking to him about his latest designs and the Teen Couture, his grey eyes smiling…
    Then another vision flashed into Angel’s mind: of lying flat on her face on the floor of the Waldorf Ballroom while Antoine Vidal stared down at her. Angel shivered. That was reality, not this crazy plan of Lily’s.
    She lifted her chin. “I’m sorry, Lily. I can’t.”
    Lily seemed to deliberately misunderstand. “Yes, you can—it’ll be easy. Think about it—you know everything about me—you even speak French better than me.” Lily’s eyes sparkled. “There isn’t anyone who could be me better than you.”
    “Except that I’m not you,” replied Angel firmly. “And I never could be you, no matter how hard I tried.”
    “Sure you could,” urged