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silence fell in the room. Separated by a canopied Louis XIV bed and a gigantic social chasm, two extraordinarily bright teenagers recognized all the differences between them and regarded each other with a mixture of dying hope and wariness. "I guess I'd better be going," Lisa said.
    Meredith looked bleakly at the nylon duffel Lisa had brought, obviously intending to spend the night if it was all right. She lifted her hand in a tiny gesture of mute appeal, then dropped it, knowing it was useless. "I have to leave pretty soon too," she said instead.
    "Have a—a good time."
    "Fenwick can take you home after he drops me off at the hotel."
    "I can ride the bus," Lisa began, but for the first time she actually noticed Meredith's dress, and she broke off in horror. "Who picks out your clothes—Helen Keller? That's not what you're really wearing tonight, is it?"
    "Yes. Do you hate it?"
    "Do you really want to know?"
    "I don't think so."
    "Well, how would you describe that dress?"
    Meredith shrugged, her expression chagrined. "Does the word frumpy mean anything to you?"
    Biting her lip to hide her laughter, Lisa raised her brows. "If you knew it was ugly, why did you buy it?"
    "My father liked it"
    "Your father has lousy taste."
    "You shouldn't say words like lousy," Meredith said quietly, knowing Lisa was right about the ugliness of the dress. "Words like that make you sound tough and hard, and you aren't—not really. I don't know how to dress or wear my hair, but I know I'm right about how to talk."
    Lisa stared at her open-mouthed, and then something began to happen—the gentle bonding of two entirely dissimilar spirits who suddenly realize that they each have something very special to offer the other. A slow smile lit Lisa's hazel eyes, and she tipped her head to the side, thoughtfully scrutinizing Meredith's dress. "Pull the shoulders down a little onto your arms, let's see if that helps," she instructed suddenly.
    Meredith grinned back and dutifully tugged them down.
    "Your hair looks like hell— lous — awful," Lisa amended, then she glanced around, her gaze lighting on a bouquet of silk flowers on the dresser. "A flower in your hair or tucked into that sash might help."
    With the true instincts of her Bancroft forebears, Meredith sensed that victory was within her grasp and that it was time to press her advantage. "Will you spend the night? I'll be back by midnight , and no one will care how late we stay up."
    Lisa hesitated and then she grinned. "Okay." Redirecting her attention to the problem of Meredith's appearance, she said, "Why did you pick shoes with such stubby little heels?"
    "They don't make me look as tall."
    "Tall is in, dopey. Do you have to wear those pearls?"
    "My father wanted me to."
    "You could take them off in the car, couldn't you?"
    "He'd feel awful if he knew it."
    "Well, I won't tell him. I'll lend you my lipstick," she added, already rummaging in her purse for her makeup. "What about your glasses? Do you absolutely have to wear them?"
    Meredith stifled a giggle. "Only if I need to see."
    Forty-five minutes later, Meredith left. Lisa had said she had a talent for decorating everything—from people to rooms—and Meredith believed her now. The silk flower pinned into her hair behind her ear made Meredith feel more elegant and less dowdy. The slight touch of blusher on her cheeks made her look more lively, and the lipstick, though Lisa said it was a little too bright for her pale coloring, made Meredith feel older and more sophisticated. Her confidence at an all-time high, Meredith turned in the doorway to her room and waved good-bye to Lisa and Mrs. Ellis, then she smiled at Lisa. "Feel free to redecorate my room while I'm gone, if you want."
    Lisa gave her a jaunty thumbs-up sign. "Don't keep Parker waiting."

Chapter 3
     
    December 1973
    The bells ringing in Matt Farrel's brain were overwhelmed by the increasing thunder of his heart as he buried himself full-length into Laura's eager, demanding