"Let's cruise around and get something to drink," said Lucy, catching a glimpse of Sam across the room, earnestly engaged in conversation with a photographer. "Maybe we'll run into somebody we know."

"Mom, that's Donald Trump."

"So it is," said Lucy, who had to resist the impulse to gawk.

"And that's Ashton Kutcher."

"Who?" Lucy had spotted a waiter holding a tray of champagne flutes. "Oh my gosh, that's Mikhail Baryshnikov helping himself to champagne."

"Who?"

Lucy was looking for Sam but it was Norah who took them by surprise, engulfing them both in a lavender satin embrace.

"You girls sure clean up nice," she exclaimed. "Isn't this amazing? I bet you've never seen anything like this in Tinker's Cove."

"That's for sure," agreed Lucy.

"If I'm not mistaken, you're wearing Donna Karan. I've got that dress myself."

"It's the first designer dress I've ever worn," confessed Lucy, pleased to have her good taste confirmed. She lowered her voice to a whisper. "I got it at a thrift shop."

"Good for you!"

"Even so, it was awfully expensive. Bill would die if he knew how much I spent."

"Never you mind. You can take it back tomorrow. But tonight, you look like it was made for you."

"Thanks, Norah," said Lucy, stepping aside as Camilla joined their little circle and exchanged air kisses with Norah. She was dressed in a black sheath that emphasized her slimness, with an oversized white ruffle at the neck; Lucy thought it made her look like Cruella De Vil.

"Don't you all look fabulous!" exclaimed Camilla. "I can see my staff has done wonders with, uh, you two girls."

Lucy wasn't about to introduce herself yet again if Camilla couldn't be bothered to remember her name. "What, this?" she said, indicating her dress. "I just pulled it out of my suitcase."

Norah winked and drifted off to chat with another friend.

Camilla watched her go but could hardly run after her. Left with these nobodies, she fingered Elizabeth's dress. "I do so love Stella McCartney. Such a bright talent. Did you get it here or in London?"

"Here," said Elizabeth. "She's my favorite designer."

"I haven't seen you at one of these affairs before," said Camilla, her eyes darting around the room. "Do you get to the city often?"

"To Boston," said Lucy. "Not New York."

"Boston is such a quaint little town. Who do you know there?"

"Lots of people," said Elizabeth, thinking of her friends at Chamberlain College.

Lucy knew that Camilla was probing purposefully, trying to ascertain Lucy's social status, and she was willing to play the game. "Junior Read is a dear friend," she said, referring to the Pioneer Press publisher who had a summer home in Tinker's Cove. It wasn't such a stretch; she'd helped him out of a tight spot a year or two ago.

"Mom, I see Lance," said Elizabeth, suddenly becoming quite perky.

Lucy followed her gaze and saw Norah's son consulting the seating chart. She tended to still think of him as the gangly middle-schooler who had been Elizabeth's first boyfriend and was shocked to see how elegant he looked dressed in a tux. The garish dyed hair he sported as a kid was gone, replaced with a fashionable close buzz cut, and he looked relaxed and confident.

"Run along," said Lucy. "Have a good time."

Elizabeth departed in a flutter of fashionable blue tatters and was embraced enthusiastically by Lance.

"That's Norah's son, isn't it?" asked Camilla.

"They're old friends," said Lucy.

"From school? I believe Lance went to Exeter," said Camilla, naming the prestigious prep school.

"Right, from school," said Lucy, not finding it necessary to mention that they'd met at Tinker's Cove Middle School.

"So what do you do?" asked Camilla, continuing her investigation.

"I'm active in civic affairs," said Lucy, telling herself it wasn't a lie since she covered town events as a reporter for the local newspaper. "And I lunch with friends," she added, thinking of the numerous peanut butter sandwiches she'd enjoyed with Sue and Pam and Rachel. "You know the sort of thing: mostly fund-raising for local charities." Lucy was a mainstay of the Hat and Mitten Fund committee, which provided warm clothing for the little town's less fortunate children.

"We really ought to do a feature on you country ladies," mused Camilla. "We tend to forget that there's life beyond the city."

"Ah, Camilla! Great to see you."

Lucy's eyes widened as she recognized Arnold Nelson, who she'd seen on the Norah! Norah! show, and waited for Camilla to introduce her. show, and waited for Camilla to introduce her.

"Arnold, this is uh, one of our makeover winners."

Lucy took his hand. "I'm Lucy Stone, from Maine."

"Nice to meet you. I hope you'll do me the honor of dancing with me."

"I'd love to," said Lucy, seizing the opportunity to avoid more of Camilla's probing questions. She was irked that the woman couldn't be bothered to remember her name but could easily recall which prep school Lance Hemmings attended. It just showed her priorities.

Her irritation soon vanished, however, as Arnold spun her around the room in an elegant waltz. He was an excellent dancer, and it was a bit like being in a dream, dancing in the arms of this wealthy man who smelled so good, even if he was a bit thick in the middle and had a jowly chin.

"I saw you yesterday, on the TV show," began Lucy, intending to ask him about the City Gate Towers project he hoped to build on Governors Island.

"You know, you don't look at all like someone who needs a makeover," said Arnold, promptly changing the subject. "You look pretty fine as you are."

"Oh, this is after. You should have seen me before," joked Lucy.

"I'd really like to see you after," said Arnold, his voice deepening. "I've got a bottle of champagne on ice at my penthouse and a fresh delivery of caviar from my Russian friend Ivan. Have you ever tasted caviar?"

"I have and I don't like it," said Lucy, wondering if this was a pass.

"Ah, then you've never had really good caviar," said Arnold. "I'd love to introduce you to it. What do you say? A man can get awfully lonely up on the thirty-seventh floor."

Enough was enough, decided Lucy, determined to put an end to Arnold's propositions as the orchestra played the final chords of the waltz.

"How is Nadine?" she asked. "She seemed so miserable yesterday. I thought she might have this flu that's in the news."

"The doctors are puzzled," he said, turning abruptly to follow a willowy blond model Lucy recognized from the fashion show.

Left to her own devices, Lucy decided to check out the buffet of hors d'oeuvres. She figured it would be a deviled-eggs-free zone, and she was right. She was considering trying a piece of sushi, something she'd never had, when she finally spotted Sam. She would have known her anywhere, she realized with amazement. Even in a fancy evening gown Sam was still Sam, with short red hair, oversized eyeglasses and a huge smile. What was surprising, however, was that she was accompanied by two men, one of whom was Geoff Rumford, Sidra's husband.

After hugs, Sam began the introductions. "Lucy, meet my husband, Brad...."

"It's about time," said Lucy, giving him a hug.

"And I understand you know Geoff from home?"

"I sure do. But how do you know him? It seems incredible to me that two of my friends would meet in a big city like New York."

"New York's big, all right, but it's made up of circles of interest. People who are interested in the same things keep on bumping into each other," said Sam.

"Brad and I met when we were both panelists at a community forum about public education," said Geoff.

"This is the last place I ever expected to see you," said Lucy, remembering Geoff as a suntanned lobsterman in Tinker's Cove.

"He's a tagalong, like me," said Brad, wrapping his arms around his wife's waist. "Sam lassoed me into this. She said if she had to organize it there was no way I wasn't going to come."

"And I'm here because Norah needed to fill her table and drafted Sidra."

"Well, a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do," said Lucy.

"This is weird," said Geoff. "By day I'm a mild-mannered high school science teacher; by night, a man about town."

"I'm sure you fill both roles admirably," said Lucy. "How about you, Brad? Do you get to affairs like this very often?"

"Too often," he said, glumly.

"It's not as bad as all that. The food's good," said Sam, punching his arm.

"And there are plenty of pretty girls to look at," said Lucy.

"So long as he only looks," said Sam.

"You don't need to worry there. I have to save my energy. I'm going to be dragging tomorrow morning, and I've got an early morning meeting."

"Governors Island?" asked Geoff. When Brad nodded, he continued, "How's that going? I heard something about a proposal for a maritime trades high school."

Lucy turned to Sam, hoping to catch up with her news while the men talked shop, but she had spotted trouble across the room. "Sorry, Lucy, I've got to get Lady Warburton away from the bar before she disgraces herself.... Call me!"

Lucy gave her a little wave and watched as she steered a tottery old woman with an elaborate hairdo over to the buffet, then turned her attention to Brad.

"Everybody's got proposals," he was saying, "but nobody's got funding, except Arnold Nelson. He could break ground tomorrow while everybody else is scrambling, writing grants, and trying to raise money."

"How does he do it?" asked Geoff.

"Glamour," said Brad, nodding sagely. "He works events like this; he uses his wife's contacts at that fashion magazine. Sam tells me the ladies on the ball committee have all invested in Nelco and can hardly talk about anything else."

Lucy found Nelson in the crowd, dancing with a very tall brunette in a short red dress. She had thrown her head back, and her mouth was open in a laugh as if he'd just said something wonderfully clever. "He just looks sleazy to me," she said with a shrug, "but he sure gets around. He was on Norah's show yesterday, pushing that City Gate project."

"Nelco? Is that his outfit?" asked Geoff.

"Yeah. Have you heard something?" asked Brad.

Geoff considered. "Maybe. If it's the same outfit. Could be Felco or Welco-they all sound the same to me."

"Run it by me and I'll check it out," said Brad.

"Well," began Geoff. The band began playing a loud rock tune, and Lucy and Brad stepped closer to hear. "If it's the same outfit, they're building that new biomedical research lab for NYU. It's a Level 4 infectious diseases facility, and it would be one of only a handful in the country. It's desperately needed but I heard there's been all kinds of problems."

"Shoddy construction? Contract disputes?" asked Brad.

"No. Nothing like that. Vandalism. Sand in the gas tanks, brake lines cut, stuff like that. It's really vicious. There have even been death threats. It's got to the point where suppliers and truckers don't want to have anything to do with it."

"It could be neighbors," said Lucy. "They might be afraid of having a germy old lab in the neighborhood."

"I'd put my money on the unions," said Brad. "There's a lot of frustration out there. Even the cops and firefighters are threatening strikes."

"I know there's some concern that Nelco or whoever it is will pull out, which would delay the project, maybe even kill it." Geoff drained his beer. "That would've been a perfect project for Governors Island, you know, instead of Arnold's pricey condos. What happened to the publicprivate partnership we heard so much about? I thought the private developers were going to fund some of the public projects in exchange for permission to build."

"They all dropped out when the federal government established the national park and started allowing public access. It was the inaccessibility, the exclusivity that had appeal. Now they're saying nobody's going to pay millions for a ritzy address if the hoi polloi can picnic on the lawn. The only one left is Arnold, and he's playing hardball."

"What's the big deal? Access is still very limited, just Saturdays in the summer."

Brad shrugged. "It doesn't bother Arnold, that's for sure. He'll wring a sweet deal out of the city and make a bundle. Subsidized housing for millionaires."

Lucy smiled as Sidra joined their group, looking chic in a shimmering satin column of a dress. "If only your mother could see you now," she said, giving her a hug. "She'd be so proud."

"She wouldn't believe it," said Sidra, laughing. "We used to squabble all the time over my fashion choices." She put her hand on her husband's arm. "I'm sorry, but I have to drag Geoff away. He has to get up early tomorrow, and I promised I wouldn't keep him out too late."

They all said their farewells, then Brad asked Lucy to dance, saying he felt quite neglected by his wife, who was too busy making sure the event ran smoothly to pay any attention to him. He wasn't as good a dancer as Arnold, but Lucy enjoyed herself a lot more. When the orchestra played the final song, "I Could Have Danced All Night," Lucy wished the evening would never end.

Chapter Seven.

FAB FASHIONS TO DIE FOR!.

Unlike Cinderella, Lucy had both her shoes next morning and her Prince Charming was keeping the home fires burning in Tinker's Cove. Today was the final day of the makeover, and she needed to make the most of it if she was going to have any chance of winning the ten thousand dollars, she thought, hurrying over to the one-hour dry cleaners on Third Avenue with the consignment shop dresses.

She wasn't quite sure when she was going to manage to pick them up and get them back to the shop, but she was determined to try despite today's hectic schedule. This morning all the makeover winners were supposed to get their hair done at one of New York's swankiest salons, Rudolf's, in preparation for the afternoon shoot of the "after" photos. That evening the award dinner was planned, followed by the holiday show at Radio City Music Hall, and the makeover would officially be over. Tomorrow she would return home to tackle the sink full of dirty dishes and the mountain of laundry that she was certain awaited her.