Camellia by Diane T. Ashley

in a triumphant smile as the door glided open.
    She didn’t think closets would catch on. Her skirts looked odd—deflated—suspended from hooks that ran along the walls of the closet. The flounces bunched together, and the arms of her shirtwaists hung empty. Her clothing looked like it belonged on a scarecrow. With a sigh, she bunched up her cloak and tried to fit it on an empty hook. It slithered to the floor as soon as she let go of it.
    “Here, let me help you.”
    Camellia jumped at the unexpected sound of a voice. Her ringlets bounced around her face as she turned to the front of the bedroom. Taking in the pretty girl who must be Jane, she wondered if they were going to be rivals.
    Sunlight poured into the room from a large window and seemed to set Jane’s thick auburn hair aflame. She stepped up to the closet and took Camellia’s cloak, shook it out, and hung it on the offending hook by its collar. “There. It only takes a little practice to get the hang of this.”
    She giggled, her brown eyes dancing. “Get it? You’ll soon get the
hang
of it.”
    A nervous laugh gurgled up Camellia’s throat.
    “Oh good. I was hoping my roommate would have a sense of humor.” Jane put a hand on Camellia’s arm and pulled her toward one of the beds. “You’re quite beautiful, you know. I should be jealous, but that would make living with you so uncomfortable.”
    Camellia took in her roommate’s curvaceous figure. From her long neck to her tiny waist, Jane was the very embodiment of femininity. She had thought the other girl’s eyes were brown, but now that she was close to her, she realized they were more hazel. “You’re pretty, too.”
    Jane waved away the compliment with a quick motion. “I’ve always wanted curls like yours, but no matter how much effort I expend, my hair has more in common with a mop than a corkscrew.”
    Unable to resist the urge to laugh, Camellia felt the tension and fear fading. Jane was not going to be a rival. Whatever sadness had lingered at parting from her sisters disappeared. “Your hair gleams, though, while mine is as dull as wash water.”
    Her new friend’s mouth tightened, and the green flecks in her eyes dimmed. “I have an idea.”
    “What?” Assuming an equally serious expression, Camellia straightened her spine.
    “I assume you’re here for the same reason I am—to find the perfect husband.”
    Camellia wasn’t sure if she was ready for this much frankness. She waited for Jane to continue.
    “Think about it, Camellia. Not every man wants a vivacious, redheaded beauty on his arm.”
    Both of them were perched on the edge of the bed, their skirts billowing around them. Camellia thought they would present a nice picture—one dark, the other fair. Her eyes widened. She looked at Jane, who nodded. “I believe you may be the smartest girl I’ve ever met.”
    Jane squealed and fell on her neck. “Between us, we’ll attract every available man in the city of New Orleans.”
    “Why stop there?” Camellia emerged from the embrace with a sigh. “I have my heart set on marrying a hero, someone who is willing to fight for his beliefs.”
    Jumping up from the bed, Jane squealed again and reached for her hand. “I cannot believe it.”
    “What?”
    “My brother. You have to meet my brother. He’s rich, handsome, and a soldier.” She ran to the desk and pulled out a chair. “I’m going to write to him right away. I can’t wait until we’re sisters.”
    Camellia watched as she bent over a piece of stationery, excitement building in her. She’d known coming to La Belle Demoiselle was the right move, but she’d never dreamed she would find the perfect husband on the day of her arrival. “What’s your brother’s name?”
    “Thaddeus … Thaddeus Watkins. But everyone calls him Thad.”
    Mrs. Thad Watkins. She extended her hand and imagined a large ring on her fourth finger. Fate had ordained her future. Maybe she’d been foolish to spend so much energy