Page 39 of The Librarian Spy

“I think it’s a good thing I don’t have to worry about bathing suits.”

Peggy chuffed a laugh. “You’ve got that right.” She picked up a handheld mirror. “What do you think?”

The woman reflected back at Ava was elegant, older in a more sophisticated way. Her dark hair was gently rolled back from her face, her lashes darkened slightly but not to the point of being obvious, her skin smoothed by powder. In truth, she looked just like her mother.

Ava had been worried Peggy might try to turn her into something she wasn’t, but instead Peggy had made her into the very person Ava had always secretly wished she could be.

“Oh, Peggy,” she breathed. “Thank you.”

Her friend beamed at her. “Now wait till you see the dress.” She spun around so fast to retrieve the garment that her pink skirt belled out around her knees.

She was only gone for a brief moment before her footsteps echoed back down the unseen hallway. “I have to attend all sorts of events with the ambassador, so I have an extensive wardrobe. I’m glad to share some of these.” Peggy emerged with a jewel green gown. “They’re far too beautiful to leave hanging in a closet.”

Ava pressed her lips together, careful not to muss the Victory red sheen on her mouth. “Is that silk?”

Peggy waved her hand dismissively. “It was bought before the war. As soon as you asked, I knew this was the dress for you with your dark hair and green eyes.” She shifted the gown from her arms, and the length of it slid to the floor like shimmering liquid. It was beautiful, with a sash that tied in a bow at the cinched-in waist, the skirt loose and free-flowing. And it was strapless.

“I know,” Peggy said when Ava’s eyes caught the top of the dress. “Just put it on.” She thrust it toward Ava and pointed down the hall.

Ava took the gown to Peggy’s neat bedroom, as resplendent in jewel tones as the living area, and slipped the garment on. The fabric was cool as it glided over her skin, a sensation she hadn’t expected to experience until after the war.

“It was bought before Japan joined the Axis,” Ava reminded herself, smoothing her hand down the front as she turned to the full-length mirror. The cut was beautiful and fit her like it had been made for her, bare shoulders and all.

Peggy squealed from the doorway. “I knew it would be perfect. Here.” She handed her a pair of long white gloves. “You can show off any skin you want so long as you have gloves.”

Ava pulled them on, and Peggy gave a low whistle. “You are dazzling.”

“Because of your exceptional skills and this gorgeous dress.”

“Because you’re a beautiful woman.”

Ava’s face went hot. Compliments always left her with an internally squirming sensation, like she needed to wriggle out of her own skin that always felt so unworthy of praise. “I don’t know...”

“Well, I do.” Peggy put her hands on her hips.

“I don’t think I take compliments well,” Ava admitted sheepishly.

“Most women don’t. We always think we’re not good enough.” She lifted her shoulder, and the resignation behind it told Ava that even gorgeous, confident, say-whatever-came-to-mind Peggy was also plagued by the same monsters as Ava.

“Do me a favor,” Peggy said. “When someone tells you that you look beautiful tonight—and they will—don’t you dare bring my name up or offer any self-deprecating remarks. You look them dead in the eye and all you say is ‘thank you.’”

James arrived in a sleek black car, wearing a suit fine enough to pass pre-ration standards with dark trousers creased sharply down the center, a fitted jacket and a starched white shirt. This look was complete with a black bow tie and a freshly shaved jaw that unhinged a few inches as she exited the building.

“You look stunning,” he said, his eyes wide.

Her cheeks burned, and it was on the tip of her tongue to admit Peggy had polished her from a dull stone into something shiny.

Instead, she met his gaze and simply said, “Thank you.”

He grinned.

“You clean up pretty well yourself,” she offered truthfully.

The grin grew wider.

Ever the gentleman, he opened the passenger-side door for her, and she slid onto the smooth leather. He put the car into gear, and they took off, turning this way and that to navigate the streets of Lisbon. Soon the twists and turns of the city gave way to a long stretch of road and the ocean came into view, the moon glinting off distant waves like flecks of diamonds sparkling in the great, dark sea.

They didn’t stop until they came to a brilliantly lit hotel called the Palacio, golden light spilling out from large glass doors. After leaving the car with the valet, he led her into the building with its glossy marble floors and windows that stretched up the length of the walls.