The Glass Slipper Project Read Online Free PDF

black shadows of night, or when the fingers of dawn brushed the shadows away, the house groaned and moaned as if it were an old woman with a story to share.
    Isabella didn’t care to listen. She knew all the stories and didn’t like any of them. The walls in the solarium reminded her of the night her father told them he had leukemia. The floorboards would gossip about his last days as he stared out the window, half the weight he used to be. The living room would recall her mother’s diagnosis given over the phone, while the master bedroom remembered her last words, spoken clearly and firmly as death slowly stole her breath away.
    She could still hear the echo of her own footsteps as she paced back and forth in the corridor. She remembered Daniella calling out in the night with a bad dream, and Gabby sneaking up the stairs with food she’d stashed in her pockets because dinner wasn’t enough.
    Isabella glanced around the kitchen’s peeling wallpaper and old stove. She couldn’t wait to be rid of the burden of the house. Alex could gladly take it from them. She touched the invitation and stared at it pensively. Her sisters deserved a little fun. But how could she manage to come up with three dresses in two weeks? And not just any dresses. Gowns. She slowly raised her head and looked out into the evening. They deserved to go. There had to be a way. She thought for a moment then tapped the table. She had the perfect idea.
    The next day she drove two hours to a designer consignment shop she’d visited several years earlier. Her plan was to find three dresses or gowns to alter. Although it was quite a distance, Isabella knew that she couldn’t risk buying something in town that others could recognize.
    The Duvall reputation was at stake. She searched through the rack of dresses with the personalities of her sisters in mind. Mariella would want something that would draw attention to her, Gabby would like something more traditional and Daniella would like something nice and pretty. After a three-hour search, Isabella had all the dresses she knew would be perfect.
    Back at home, she went into the old sewing room. Because it had been several years since anyone had used it, dust and cobwebs had taken hold. With only two weeks left to alter and remake the dresses, she got to work right away. Isabella spent the night dusting, cleaning and organizing the sewing machine and three wire dress forms hidden in the closet determined to make her sisters’ dreams come true.
    Mrs. Lyons lived alone in a grand house that had belonged to her dead husband no one had ever seen — and most doubted had ever existed. She had a Siberian mix cat, named Nicodemus, and a companion, Ms. Timmons. She was a formidable woman of seventy-three years who liked to complain of imaginary ailments, but became a martyr when the pain was real.
    Although her hair was completely white, she continued to dye it the black it had been when she was younger. The contrasting color only made her pale white skin look almost ghostly, while sharp green eyes were deeply set in a thin, narrow face. She didn’t mind growing older or the solitude of her life and welcomed her quiet existence most days, but she enjoyed bossing people around and grew restless when she didn’t have the opportunity to do so.
    After a weekend of having only Ms. Timmons and her cook to harass, Mrs. Lyons looked eagerly out her window and caught sight of Isabella. She watched with growing anticipation, as Isabella gingerly maneuvered the piles of snow on the side of the road, and patches of treacherous black ice covering the sidewalk.
    Mrs. Lyons frowned. Such a dull, ordinary girl, she thought staring at the large overcoat, limp brown scarf and gloves Isabella wore. But she hadn’t expected Caroline to loan out any of her other treasures. Isabella suited her needs, she was efficient and punctual. But for a woman who enjoyed finding fault in others and provoking them, Isabella’s patient nature