The Daughters by Joanna Philbin Page A

knew you when.”
    She said goodbye to her friends on the corner of Crosby and Prince and watched them walk west, feeling the raised type of
     Andrea’s business card in her hand. She could still smell the piney scent of Andrea’s studio on her clothes. Something inside
     of her felt lighter, almost proud. Andrea had said she was pretty. She turned and looked back down the street to Andrea’s
     building and up to the fifth-floor windows and smiled. Maybe she’d be back there one day after all.
    Suddenly she had a thought. She started walking down Spring Street. A cool breeze blew against her face as she picked up speed.
     She rounded the corner onto Broadway. Thankfully, the crowd of shoppers and tourists had thinned. It only took a few seconds
     to reach the doors to Big Drop.
    Inside, she maneuvered her way past the teenage girls straight to the stack of lace-trimmed camisoles. The lavender one was
     right on top, back from the fitting room. Yes, it had been a little low-cut, and yes, it would show her white arms, but right
     now she didn’t really care.
    “Just this, please,” she said to the woman behind the cash register, handing her a credit card.
    As the woman ran her card, Lizzie’s gaze wandered to the wall behind her. There, facing her, was a framed photo of her mother.
     She was on the street, coming out of this very store, dressed in aviator shades, dark toothpick-thin jeans, and a crisp white
     shirt. It was one of those “In Their Own Clothes!” features from one of the tabloids, and the store had framed it to show
     people that Katia Summers was a customer. WE SELL THESE JEANS! someone had written in gigantic capital letters with a huge
     arrow pointing to Katia’s legs. Lizzie was definitely used to seeing her mother’s picture in the most random places, but now
     for some reason it was jarring. Maybe because she still hadn’t heard from her since their fight two days ago—and the release
     of the clip. Thankfully, Natasha had managed to pull it off the Internet.
    The saleswoman handed Lizzie back her card and put the top in a plastic bag. “Enjoy,” she chirped, bringing Lizzie back to
     the here and now.
    On her way out, Lizzie checked her watch. Only six more hours until she and Todd were alone together inside his house. She
     walked out of the store into the crowds, swinging the bag, and she already knew that she’d remember this night for a very
     long time.

chapter 8
    By the time the elevator doors closed on the lobby of Todd’s building, the butterflies in Lizzie’s stomach had morphed into
     tiny exploding grenades. It didn’t help that she’d been nervous for hours during her Ava-worthy grooming routine. She’d showered,
     shaved her legs, scrubbed herself with loofah gloves, and slathered on perfumed body lotion. She’d straightened her hair,
     and then curled it with a curling iron for those soft, Pre-Raphaelite, Nicole Kidman–like waves. She’d dusted her lids with
     gold eye shadow and applied at least two coats of mascara. By the time she was done, she had to say that she looked pretty
     good, enough so that her old doorman had barely recognized her. But what if Todd thought she’d overdid it? Maybe he honestly
     just wanted her help as a friend. And she did look a little glamorous to be putting out pretzels and dip.
    As the elevator raced upward, Lizzie checked inside her beaded pouch for her phone. Carina and Hudson had both promised to
     be on call for any emergencies until they came over to the party. But there wouldn’t be any emergencies, she told herself.
     Everything was going to be just fine. Everything was going to be amazing.
    When they reached the penthouse, the doors opened. Todd stood right in front of her—apparently, the elevator opened right
     into the middle of his house. In scruffy jeans and a light blue cowboy-style shirt, with a wet forelock of hair falling over
     his eyebrows, Todd’s hotness was on fine display. “So you remembered the