✏️ The Littlest Spy

24. Housewarming

Isadora stood in front of the full-length mirror in the master bedroom, smoothing down the front of her dress for what felt like the hundredth time. The emerald green cocktail dress was beautiful, far more expensive than anything she'd ever owned before, but she couldn't shake the feeling that it was all wrong. Too flashy, too revealing, too... everything. She wasn't comfortable like this, and wondered that it would be obvious. But of course, she had already reasoned that Brock was playing on that deliberately. Estelle Klein wasn't a socialite, she was an administrator. And even their courtship wouldn't have changed that. Spy novels might have taught the world that an experienced operative could act naturally in any company, but if she thought about it seriously she knew that the Agency had gone one better by giving her a legend who would be just as uncomfortable as Isadora herself in some situations.

"You look stunning," Brock's voice came from behind her. She turned to see him leaning against the doorframe, already dressed in a perfectly tailored suit. "Every woman at this party will be green with envy."

Isadora forced a smile. "I just hope I don't spill anything on it. Or trip and fall. Or say something stupid..."

"Stella," Brock said consolingly. "Stella, Stella, Stella. You are smart and beautiful. Nothing you ever say could be considered stupid. Just be yourself, and I guarantee everyone will fall in love with you."

It was probably the worst possible advice on how to play her role; but of course it was exactly the advice Bernard would give. He couldn't see the world from any point of view other than his own, looking down from a world where confidence and first impressions were the only things that mattered.

"Don't call me Stella," she answered, and pouted. "It's Estelle. I'm not just some doll to hang on your arm, you know? And I think one lovesick idiot hanging on my arm is more than enough for me. I don't need anybody else's attention."

"Touché," Brock smiled, clasping a hand over his heart as if mortally wounded. "I'm sure you'll be great, anyway. Mrs Klein."

He crossed the room in a few quick strides, placing his hands on her shoulders. "Hey, relax. You've got this. Remember, you're Mrs Estelle Klein now. Confident, charming, the perfect hostess."

"I think you're confusing me with someone else," she joked. "But yes, I'll do my best. I still don't know why we need a housewarming party, though. Or why we have to buy more food than we need and get it all from luxury brands that charge twice the price for just the name."

"Isn't the name important? Estelle?"

"I guess," Isadora said, looking down at her hands and blushing. Most of her worries had gone away now, so Brock must be better at this than she had expected. Of course, the things she'd been worrying about had merely been supplanted in her mind by the things that should have made Estelle apprehensive or frustrated, but that was still an improvement. He was guiding her into her legend like a master, and she could really be grateful for that.

She took a deep breath, trying to imagine Estelle getting over her nerves for the sake of her husband's social standing. It was hard, but she could remind herself that she was supposed to love this little bundle of arrogance. "Right. Estelle Klein. I can do this."

The doorbell rang, startling them both before Bernard could dig himself any deeper. Brock glanced at his watch. "Right on time. I'll go greet our guests. You finish up here and then come down to corral any wandering wives, okay? And just this once, let me worry about the food."

"And the drink?" she asked.

"I'm sure I can handle a few." He didn't wait for a response before he breezed off downstairs. Isadora took a deep breath and counted to ten, hoping that his apparent lack of concern there was only Bernard's way of thinking. She needed Brock to stay sober behind the mask, and catch any clues dropped by Arrencani and his people. But somehow, she thought her confidence was growing. It was easy to imagine that Brock didn't see his drinking as a problem; after all the excuses he'd made during their training. But it was very hard to imagine him actually making a mistake on an assignment. She just had to keep reminding herself that the latitude Kane gave him was probably because he was good enough to earn it; maybe even as good as Brown, once all the rumours were set aside.