In the story, the daughter of a rising politician goes missing; eight years later, with her father now President of the United States, the teenager reappears. What happened to her over the past eight years, and where do her loyalties lie?
for me. It’s for you.” “For me?” Addie said. “Yeah, I was going to save it as a surprise, but I just couldn’t wait. You really like it?” “Are you kidding?” Addie said. “I love it. But…what’s it for?” “Your welcome-home reception. I wanted you to have something to wear that made you feel special. It’s by my favorite designer, Janie Liu. She has great taste, just like you.” Addie’s cheeks flushed. “I’ve been working with her on it,” her mother continued. “Trying to design something that would really suit you. We had to do some guesswork on the sizing, but it can still be tweaked. Do you want to try it on?” It was well past midnight, but Addie was wide-awake. “Yeah, okay,” she said. “Good,” her mother said. “You go ahead and change. I’m not done with the surprises yet. Be right back.…” Liz disappeared again. Addie slipped out of her pajamas and pulled the dress over her head. It even felt like wearing water, smooth and liquid. And it fit perfectly. Addie was running her hands over the silky fabric when Liz returned. She stopped dead in the entryway. “What?” Addie said. “Does it look awful?” “Oh no, Addie,” her mother said. “Not at all. You’re breathtaking. Just look at yourself.” Addie’s mother pointed at a full-length mirror across the room. Addie stood in front of it, inspecting the dress. Her mother came up behind her and gently placed a hand on Addie’s shoulder. She was right. The seafoam color brought out the green in Addie’s eyes and played up the contrast between her dark hair and fair, lightly freckled skin. “I’ve never seen anything more perfect,” her mother said. “And the dress isn’t bad either.” Addie snorted. “Mom. Lame.” But she couldn’t help looking again. She barely recognized the reflection staring back at her. The dress was perfect. And it was exactly what Addie herself would have chosen. “I have something else for you,” her mother said. She held out her hand. Two jade chandelier earrings sat on her palm. “These were Grandma Chan’s,” she said. “Actually, they belonged to Grandma Chan’s great-great-grandma. They’re very old, and they’ve been in our family a long, long time. I think they’d look perfect with this dress. I want you to have them.” Addie gazed at the earrings, suddenly unable to speak. They didn’t belong to her. She shouldn’t want them. And yet, she ached to put on the delicate green chandeliers and see how they looked.