All of the Morgan kids were blond and fair. With the exception of Cynthia, they had big blue eyes inherited from their mother. Jenny was still too skinny and had a mouthful of braces, but in a couple of years she would be as pretty as Betsy. The ten-year-old twins-Brad and Brett-took more after their father and would grow to tower over the women in the family.

“Are you ready?” Betsy asked after smoothing the hem of the dress. “You look amazing.”

Cynthia met her gaze in the mirror and smiled. The rented dress smelled faintly of mothballs and her long, elbow-length gloves had been bought at a thrift store and mended. The tiara was rhinestones, the pearls around her neck fake, but for tonight none of that mattered.

“I feel great,” Cynthia told her and picked up her small handbag. “So if I stay out past midnight, will my car turn into a pumpkin?”

Betsy and Jenny followed her to the front door. “Not possible. It’s already a wreck,” her mother said cheerfully. “Pumpkin would be an improvement.”

Cynthia kissed Jenny’s cheek then her mother’s, and walked toward her battered car. “You’re right. Don’t wait up, Mom. I’ll be fine.”

“Promise me you’ll dance at least once with the most handsome man there,” Betsy called out as her daughter started her ugly but reliable car.

“I’ll do my best.”

She waved at her sister and her mother, then shifted into gear and started down the driveway. A shiver of anticipation rippled through her. For the first time in her life she was going to see how the other half lived. More important, she was actually going to speak to Jonathan Steele. At least that was her plan.

“I can do it, I can do it,” she chanted quietly to herself as she drove through the dark streets of Grand Springs. The mountain evening was cool and a starlit sky twinkled overhead. A magical night, she thought cheerfully. The kind of night where anything could happen. Meeting the great Jonathan Steele was the main reason she’d been so excited by the opportunity to attend the charity ball.