Lucy had arrived.

"Could you give me just a minute," she asked the driver, who had just lowered the partition. Some limo drivers kept the partition down and liked to chit chat but the young guy up front was very formal with her and kept the partition up the entire way. Lucy didn't mind a bit of conversation, but it was also nice to feel ensconced in the back seat, sipping champagne while she gawked openly at the city lights. This ain't Halifax, she mused, gazing at the iconic skyline as she was whisked away to the mysterious party.

She wished that she and Quinn could have gone together, but she understood. His restaurant was in crisis mode, lurching from one disaster to the next. He was used to everything falling into place; success came easily to Quinn. She knew it was hard for him to watch his first restaurant struggle. She hoped this latest problem was just a blip and not a full-blown catastrophe.

Lucy took her compact out of her clutch and checked her makeup, but it was already flawless. Her dark eyes were accented in smoky indigo, and her full lips were painted an inviting, movie-star red. She was glad she splurged on the mani/pedi and facial and decided to get her makeup professionally done along with her hair.

Her long, dark mane was loose and curled around her shoulders and her dress was storybook perfect: ice-blue silk and off the shoulder with a plunging neckline, it skimmed over her hips and hugged her generous curves.

She fell in love with it and tried the largest size they had in the store, hoping for the best. She was shocked to find it was too large, and she had to go down a size, and then another. This one fit perfectly.

All that running had paid off, she supposed, although she stopped weighing herself over the past year. She stepped up her running, channelling all of her grief into her daily jog on the beach. Rain or shine, she was out there on the beach every day in the early morning hours. Sometimes Quinn joined her, but mostly, she went alone.

But that was to get stronger and feel like she could face the day ahead, not to lose weight. She knew that Quinn loved her as she was, and that was enough. Going down in sizes would have thrilled her years ago, but it was something she wasn't chasing anymore. Besides, Quinn loved her curves and his constant attention and compliments on her body made her see that she had nothing to be ashamed of. She began to love her body, too.

For someone who struggled with her self-image for so long, she was amazed to find she could finally look in the mirror and know that she looked good. The night felt like a triumph already.

"Take your time, Miss. If I might say so, you look very nice." The driver glanced in the rear-view mirror for a second before training his eyes ahead.

"Very nice?" Amused, she snapped the compact shut and tucked it into her clutch before smoothing out her dress. From the mediocre response, she wondered if her dress might be too plain for the evening ahead.

"Yeah. I'd say beautiful, but we're not supposed to make personal comments like that. It's my first day on the job." He glanced at her again on the rearview before quickly looking away. She smiled.

Aww. "Thank you, that's very sweet," she said, gathering her matching silk wrap around her shoulders.

"I hope you are not offended."

"I definitely am not." She took a deep breath and stared at the impossibly huge mansion. Every room in the place was lit up, the massive brick building and acres of surrounding gardens nestled on its very own island. Faint strains of Chopin danced on the night air.

After a day of pampering, Lucy was fizzing with excitement. She couldn't wait to enter the grand house, rub elbows with the city's elite and be joined by her own handsome prince later. She had business cards in her clutch just in case she made some important contacts. She'd love to have some new consulting clients from New York City.

Not bad for a girl from Tiny Town, Nowhere. She wanted a moment to soak it all in.

Her phone rang and she pulled it out of her clutch, hoping it was Quinn. Disappointed, she saw it was Faye.

She hesitated. Ordinarily, she loved talking to her twin sister, but their relationship had been strained. Far away from Port Ross, she was finally able to breathe again, and forget about what happened a year ago. But she knew her sister. If she didn't pick up now, her stubborn twin would keep calling and calling...

"Is it OK if I stay a minute more and take this?"

The limo driver seemed surprised. "Of course, Miss."

She answered the phone. "What up? I'm in New York, bitch!"

"Yeah, I know, Lucy. That's why I'm calling you. Because you stood me up. You were supposed to be going through Dad's stuff with me this weekend like you promised."

Lucy felt her exhilaration deflate like a party balloon. "Well, hello to you too Faye, you don't have to actually be a bitch about it." The sisters were uncharacteristically tense with each other lately; Lucy wasn't sure why. They were always tightly allied, no matter what was going on with their parents or their own lives. Living together in the little cottage was part of it. Faye's divorce from Ben was finalized and she was forced to put their home on the market. She was distraught over it.

Faye sighed. "I'm sorry I snapped. But we were supposed to do it ages ago. I've gone through everything and taken the stuff that means something to me, and what Mom wants. I want you to go through the rest, it's been cluttering up my garage for ages."

"Toss it," Lucy said, hurt. "I'm just rolling up to this fancy party, I thought you'd be excited for me but forget it."

"I am excited. You've always wanted to go to a fancy party in New York; in fact, you always wanted to live in New York. I hope you have a great time. But I'm not tossing Dad's things until you go through them. There are some letters and stuff addressed to you that I think you should see. I put them all together in a box — when you're ready, go through it, OK?"

"OK," Lucy said. Perfect. Everything in one box; she could just throw the whole thing out on garbage day.

"I gotta go, Faye."

"Text me some pictures, I bet that dress is a stunner. You've got a good man, there," Faye said, softening.

"I know," Lucy said.

"The fancy party awaits, Cinderella. Go on in to the ball."

"I will. I'll call you tomorrow," Lucy said, before hanging up. Suddenly, she missed her sister. She vowed to make things right between them when she went back home.

But first, she had a party to go to.

"Thanks very much and have a good night," she said to the limo driver, handing him whatever American money she had in her purse for a tip and hoping it was enough. She could never figure out American money — unlike the brightly-coloured Canadian bills, they all looked alike. She had no clue how people down here could tell a crumpled dollar bill from a twenty, or even a hundred.

"Good night, miss," he said. "Thank you very much!" He seemed pleased with the amount. "Have a great time. I'll be waiting whenever you and Mr. Allen are ready to leave."

"Thank you." At least he didn't call me ma'am. She was in her thirties and still taken aback when someone at the grocery store ma'am-ed her.

She emerged from the limo and gazed up at the estate, watching the women in sweeping ball gowns and tuxedoed men make their way up the stairs. Heart pounding with excitement, she fell in behind them. She gathered up her dress so she wouldn't trip up the stairs for an especially memorable entrance.

An elegant table was set up just inside the foyer, adorned with an array of fine jewellery. She gave her name to the woman behind the table, smartly dressed in a crimson pantsuit and sky-high, matching Manolo Blahniks. "Welcome to the Sugar and Spice ball. Which are you?" The woman gestured to a variety of bracelets; silver threaded with ribbon and delicate, sparkling baubles. Half of the bracelets were sugary pink; the others satin-black.

"Oh! I'll choose this one, I guess," she said, pointing to the black. A tuxedoed attendant clasped it to her wrist before taking her silk wrap. "Pretty," Lucy murmured, admiring it. "Are these Swarovski crystals?"

"Diamonds," the woman said with a knowing smile.

Oooh, swag. "I love New York," she said, delighted to hear the woman's laugh as she made her way into the party.

From dress shopping, to the spa and the salon and now a billionaire's party, Lucy was in heaven. The thought kept repeating itself in her head like a mantra. I've arrived.

"Just a moment." Lucy paused, glancing behind her shoulder. "Your party is that way," the woman said, gesturing to the right. Lucy thanked her, following her direction while trying not to gawp at the massive staircase and huge, chandeliered ceiling. My party? Two different parties in the same place; how intriguing, she thought.

Lucy found her way to a large, gilded ballroom with patio doors that opened to a massive, manicured garden. It was an unusually warm night for November. She found she could easily enjoy the jasmine-scented night air without even a shiver.

She accepted a flute of champagne from a passing waiter and tried not to look like a complete country bumpkin as she took in the luxurious surroundings with what she hoped was an appraising eye rather than open-mouthed shock. She'd never seen such opulence.

The soundtrack was perfect; the music had switched to jazz, her favourite. To the soundtrack of When Lights are Low, the city's elite were dancing, or clustered together in groups around the room chatting in a quiet buzz. She loved Vic Damone, her favourite for cleaning up the kitchen. It was strange to be listening to Linger Awhile, one of her favourite records, in a ballgown and not an old sweatshirt, yoga pants and rubber gloves.

She watched some of the couples as they twirled across the floor, executing flawlessly synchronized ballroom dance moves.

She'd been taking dance lessons for years in Toronto, never with Trent of course — he refused. So, she went anyway, instructors pairing her with male volunteers. She'd gotten good for a while, before the demands of her job made it impossible to keep up with the lessons. She wondered if Quinn could dance, sipping her champagne and people-watching the room of New York City's impossibly glamorous. Probably, she reasoned. The man certainly had rhythm she thought, with a saucy smile.

"You look like you stepped right out of another era."

She looked up to see a tall, elegantly dressed older man, his expensive tux complemented by a white, silk scarf. He was what the kids called 'a silver fox,' his handsome looks faded by time but far from extinguished.

"Excuse me?"

"Your dress, your hair — you look like you stepped right out of a 1940s movie." He looked her up and down with an admiring smile. "I love the look. Very femme fatale."

"Thank you," she said, glancing down at her retro-inspired dress. "I do love the esthetic."

"And it loves you," he said, picking up her hand to plant a kiss on the back of it. Down boy.

"Thanks, my partner loves it too," she said, telegraphing a very large hint.

"I'm sure he does." he said, not missing a beat. "Or she. I'm Lex Brady."

"So, you're the founder of the feast," she said, looking around. "Your home is stunning. I'm Lucy McLean, Quinn Allen's guest. Thank you for the invitation."

She saw a shift in expression behind his eyes, a momentary change from pleasant curiosity to something else; something darker. "Yes, well. I very much enjoyed meeting you, Lucy McLean. You are a breath of fresh air. I do hope you enjoy the party and that we speak again." Still holding her gaze he gave a small, courtly bow before turning on his heel and striding across the room, barely acknowledging the admiring glances and smiles that came his way.

Weird, she thought, shaking her head. It was her first brush with an eccentric billionaire and she found the exchange perplexing. He didn't back off when she said she had a partner but hearing Quinn's name seemed to make him recoil. She'd have to ask Quinn if they knew each other; it certainly seemed that way.

"Would you care to dance?" She turned around and saw a blandly handsome young man with slicked back hair extending his hand. His gaze darted to her wrist.

"Maybe in a bit?" she demurred. He nodded with a smile, before turning and walking away. Did she imagine it, or did he tip her a quick wink? She raised her arm and examined the bracelet, little alarm bells going off in her head.

Come to think of it, the party goers seemed extremely—forward. One woman in a form-fitting, silver sequinned dress brushed against her, before glancing back over her shoulder at Lucy and looking her boldly up and down. "Marvellous," she purred.

"Thank you?" Lucy was starting to suspect this was a different kind of party.

There was definitely something peculiar going on but before she could figure it out, she needed to pee. She set her glass aside and made her way down the hallway, her dress skimming the floor and silver Jimmy Choo pumps clicking on the diamond-inlaid marble tile. She'd overheard someone talking about it amid the buzz of chatter. Diamonds on the floor, just to walk on. She'd stumbled into a bizarre and fascinating world.

"How many rooms does this place have," she muttered, looking at seemingly dozens of identical doors in the hallway. "Thirty-five," said a sandy-blond man passing by, holding hands with a beautiful redhead, who was flushed and giggling. "I think what you're looking for is in there," he said, pointing to a door displaying an elaborate black and crimson heart which also looked to be studded with diamonds. "Thanks," Lucy said.

She pushed the door open. "Whoa!" She cried out in shock before she could stop herself. She nearly jumped out of her skin at the scene playing out before her eyes.