"You should go, too. I'll watch 'em," Ryan offered.

Mara was floored. "Seriously?" she asked. Shopping did sound tempting-and she was feeling kind of frumpy around those two fashion butterflies. It wouldn't hurt to get a little something-maybe a new skirt or a pair of those big sunglasses with the Gs on the side that everyone seemed to own. Plus she could probably stop by the bank while she was in town to make a deposit.

"Yeah, Mar, c'mon, leave them with him. He's got nothing to do all day," Eliza said, giddy at the prospect of an afternoon of her favorite pastime. So giddy that she almost liked the idea of Mara coming along.

"Oh, okay. All right, but we'll be back in, like, fifteen minutes," Mara promised.

Fifteen minutes? Eliza and Jacqui eyed each other. Obviously Mara had never been shopping with girls like them before.

main street, east hampton: that's why they invented credit cards.

THE GIRLS LINGERED OVER SARIS AND "SUMMER weight" satins at Calypso, where Jacqui picked up another Eres bikini to add to the fifteen tangas she had already brought with her, then they hightailed it to Tracey Feith to take a look at the new sundresses, passing by Steven Stolman because Eliza wanted to check if the rainbow-colored Jelly Kellys were in. Sadly, they weren't: they were on wait list and out of stock. At Jimmy's the selection of beaded corset gowns took their breath away.

Next stop: Scoop on the Beach.

"This is my favorite!" Eliza said, walking by the racks of terry cloth Juicy tube dresses, pastel-colored Marc Jacobs camisoles and tanks, rows of candy-colored cotton minis, and shelves of James Perse baby T-shirts and shrunken Joie hooded sweaters-the unofficial Hamptons uniform.

The store was filled with emaciated twenty- and thirty-year-old women trying on Petit Bateau T-shirts (made for French toddlers). Dueling mother and daughter tag teams abounded. Mara noticed two distinct breeds-mothers who dressed younger than their daughters in Von Dutch tank tops and terry cloth sweatpants while their daughters wore vintage Chanel jackets, and mothers who dressed exactly like their daughters, both generations in sleeveless black Lacoste dresses and espadrilles.

"Can I help you?" Asked a bubbly salesgirl, about their age, in a T-shirt that read JUICY across the chest. "Looking for something in particular?" she asked Mara, who looked a bit hesitant, while Eliza and Jacqui went through the racks with feverish passion.

Mara shrugged. "Not really."

"Just let me know if I can help you in any way!" the salesgirl chirped, and left Mara alone to wait on more savvy customers.

Mara noticed most of the shoppers clustered around several tables stacked with folded jeans and decided to follow their lead. There were blue jeans, dark blue jeans, pin-striped jeans, colored jeans, and "dirty" jeans. Bell-bottom. Low rise. Superlow rise. Flared. Slim. Boot leg. Jeans with cargo pockets in the front, on the butt, or on the thigh. There were so many permutations of infinitesimal difference. Yet everyone around Mara was discussing which ones they already owned and which ones they still had to buy. Mara turned over a price tag. $175! For a pair of blue jeans that didn't look too different from her own trusty Levi's.

"Mom, what do you think?" a sylph of a girl asked, walking out of the dressing room wearing a nude chiffon slip dress with a plunging neckline.

Her mother, a knockout with toned Linda Hamilton arms and a taut midriff, shook her head. "Don't you think it's a little too much for someone your age?" she asked.

"I'm twelve!" her daughter argued.

A thirty-year-old woman walked out of her dressing room wearing the same exact dress. She looked at the teenager and sighed. "I would kill to have your waist."

The energetic salesclerk helped Jacqui and Eliza as they both disappeared into the dressing rooms underneath a humungous pile of clothing. Mara hung behind, her eyes widening at the prices. She found a cute bandanna-printed sleeveless blouse but immediately put it back when she saw how much it cost. $250! For a cotton top? Was there nothing in the store under fifty bucks? Yup-a pile of cotton belts in a bucket by the door. Eliza emerged from the wooden shutter doors in a slinky bias-cut Diane von Furstenberg wrap dress.

"Omigod, that is totally adorbs on you! Reese bought the same one yesterday," the salesgirl gushed. Dropping a celebrity name was just the thing to ensure a quick sale; even Mara knew that.

"You don't say?" Eliza asked. "I'll take it!"

The salesgirl grinned. Mara knew that smile: it said sucker, but Eliza was too pleased with her new dress to notice.

"Find anything?" Eliza asked Mara as she tugged at the under-fifty-dollar belt and critically ascertained her figure in the mirror.

"No, uh, I'll just wait for you guys. Maybe I should get back," Mara said.

"What are you talking about!" Eliza said, marching over. She pulled out a body-hugging red strapless Shoshanna dress that came with a pair of matching red lace underwear. "Try this on. With your dark hair, this is going to look perfect on you!"

"I don't know . . .," Mara said.

The mother and daughter who were arguing about the sexy chiffon dress walked up to the register. "Get out of my way, Mom, I'm getting it," the daughter said, holding the hanger and brandishing her Visa card. "It's perfect for Tiffany's bat mitzvah!"

Her mother sighed and gave Mara a look that said: Kids, what can you do?

Mara didn't return a sympathetic glance. She wasn't sure she approved of twelve-year-olds in lingerie chic, but she was from Sturbridge, so what did she know. She had already spotted girls Zoe's age wearing Porn Star T-shirts on the beach.

Jacqui walked out of her dressing room in a mini Polo shirt and the briefest striped denim shorts. "What do you guys think?"

"That is to die!" Eliza screeched. "Those look insane on you. Jac, don't you think Mara should try this on?" Eliza asked, holding up the dress.

"Is perfecto. You must. We insist," Jacqui agreed. The two of them pushed Mara into a dressing room.

"Oh, all right, but just for fun," Mara said. Jeez, it was so tight, how did anyone get their hips into this thing? She zipped it up in the back and looked behind her at the mirror. It barely covered her butt! So that was what the matching underwear was for.

"Hey, guys, what do you think?" she asked, stepping gingerly out of the dressing room.

"Muy bonito," Jacqui pronounced.

"What did I tell you?" Eliza asked. "But you need shoes. Sorry, but those Reeboks aren't going to cut it and don't you dare think you can wear your cowboy boots with that."

Jacqui nodded and picked out a pair of matching red plastic Sigerson Morrison high-heeled flip-flops. "Here, put these on," she said, slipping them on Mara's feet.

The extra height lengthened Mara's legs, which were getting good and brown from their daily excursions to Georgica Beach. "Perfect!" Eliza crowed. "Except for the hair. Have you always worn it that way?"

"Why? Is there something wrong with it?"

Eliza tut-tutted. "We're going to have to let Pierre have a hand in it." She punched some numbers on a cell phone. "Pierre? It's Eliza. Do you think you could come and visit me later? I've got a friend who really needs your help."

"Jim would never let me wear this in public," Mara said, scrutinizing herself in the mirror.

"Who's Jim?"

"My boyfriend," Mara reminded them. The two of them seemed to have some kind of amnesia whenever Mara told them anything about her life back home. "He's kind of pissed at me already for leaving him this summer."

"Right. Mr. Numero Uno," Eliza teased. "Why? Can't he visit? Aren't you from Boston? That's only four hours away."

"Sturbridge. And yeah, it's not that far, but Jim's kind of a homebody."

"God. What a baby," Eliza said. "If I were him, I'd want to keep an eye on you!"

"And who cares about Jim? Esqueca-se dele. That's going to blow Ryan's mind!" Jacqui said.

"What do you mean?" Mara squeaked.

"Don't tell us you don't notice the way he looks at you. And he's supernice to you all the time." Eliza smirked. Shopping always made Eliza more magnanimous.

"He's nice to all of us," Mara said stubbornly.

"Have it your way." Eliza shrugged.

By habit Jacqui began putting away the sweaters they had disturbed. She was enjoying herself as she folded the cardigans into perfect squares. But as she laid them on the shelf, she looked out the window and almost dropped the whole load. Outside was Luca! Her heart started to beat. They almost never saw each other during the day anymore. He always had some sort of excuse-he had to go back to the city for a family event or he had to go on a fishing trip with his dad.

"Luca! Luca! Um momento!" she said excitedly, heading for the door, still wearing all of the store's clothes. She scrambled out to say hello, and just as she hit the sidewalk, she was pulled roughly back into the store by the ever-vigilant Scoop salesgirl.

"Whoa! Miss! Where do you think you're going?" she said with a viselike grip on Jacqui's elbow.

"Hey! Jacqui! It's great to see you! Nice Polo!" Luke hollered from across the street without slowing his pace.

Huh. Jacqui reluctantly followed the salesgirl inside. Maybe he didn't want to spoil the romantic dinner they'd planned that evening? Somehow that didn't feel likely, and making all these excuses for Luca was starting to wear on her.

"Seriously, I can't buy this. I can't wear it and I can't afford it," Mara said.

"What are you talking about?" Eliza asked. "I get 25 percent off at this store. VIP discount, hello. That dress was made for you. And didn't we just get paid?"

Jacqui paid for her outfit, and Eliza put her purchases on the table. A Marc Jacobs Stella handbag, several C&C California T-shirts, four pairs of Jimmy Choo sandals, and a new Theory dress. The whole thing amounted to five hundred dollars more than she had actually made. "Put the rest on my Visa," she told the salesgirl.

Mara hesitated, but she did need a new dress, and those flip-flops were so cute.

"All right, I'll take it," she said reluctantly.

Shopping bags in hand, Eliza led them to her second-most favorite shop in East Hampton, Scoops-with an s-where they all ordered chocolate parfait sundaes.

contrary to queer eye logic, not all gay men dress well.

THAT NIGHT, WHEN ALL FOUR KIDS HAD FINALLY BEEN put to bed, the three au pairs hung out in their room and made plans.

"You coming out, Mara?" Eliza asked. "Don't say no again!"

Mara was reluctant, but it wasn't as if she had anything better to do. She had already walked Zoe to the bathroom, so she didn't have to stay home for that. And Jim was giving her the cold shoulder after she had told him she couldn't take the weekend off to visit. She had even sent him a care package from Barefoot Contessa, complete with scones and muffins, as a guilt present, but it had done nothing to thaw his temper.

"Oh, okay. But we're not going to stay long, right? The girls have ballet in the morning."

"Yeah, we'll stay for, like, a minute," Eliza said, winking at Jacqui.

Mara pulled out her new red dress.

"WHAT are you doing?" Eliza asked, taking it from her and putting it back on the hanger.

"Um, wearing my new dress?"

"Sweetie. This is for the polo match. It's all wrong for Jet East. This is a day dress. Also, you don't want to show up at polo wearing something everyone's already seen. Do I have to spell out everything?" Eliza sighed. "Here-put this on," she said, handing Mara one of her own shirts-a clingy, black jersey halter with a plunging neckline. "You can wear it with your jeans; those are cool. And your new flip-flops."

Jacqui came out of the bathroom wearing a black lace top and silk cargo pants that she had bought especially for her date with Luca that night. She stood in front of the cracked antique mirror with Mara.

"Don't pull your hair back; wear it down," Jacqui said. Pierre, Eliza's hairdresser friend and self-proclaimed "Queen of Hair," had come over that afternoon to give all the girls a haircut gratis in exchange for posing with their new styles for his portfolio. Jacqui started to brush Mara's hair expertly. "See, you keep the flip-here, and kind of smooth it down here-but shake it out and make it all messy-messy."

Jacqui brought out her twenty-pound, professional makeup artist's trunk and began to apply foundation, powder, eyeliner, eye shadow, and lipstick on Mara.

When Jacqui was done, Mara looked at herself with the hand mirror Jacqui provided. "Don't you think it's too much?" She'd never worn this much makeup in her life, not even counting the spring formal she had gone to with Jim last year.

"You look almost better than me!" Eliza said, a little enviously. "Almost being the operative word," she joked.

Mara laughed.

They said good-bye to Jacqui, and Eliza pumped her fist in the air when she saw the twins hadn't left yet. Their Mercedes SUV was still parked in the driveway.

Eliza clambered into the front seat. "Get in," she told Mara.

"What about the twins?"

"Anna and Kevin said we could take any car in the lot." Eliza shrugged. "The Volvo's still available." She grinned wickedly.

A line of paparazzi stood in front of the red carpet, hollering at various people. Eliza walked slowly, hoping they would snap some shots, but they were distracted by blond pop starlet Chauncey Raven and her crew of bodyguards. The eighteen-year-old most famous for baring her toned midriff all the way down to her pelvis and declaring her virginity while sucking face with a crew of Hollywood hotheads was the latest tabloid phenomenon. "CHAUNCEY! CHAUNCEY! OVER HERE! CHAUNCEY!" the photographers screamed in desperation, but the star stayed completely hidden behind her seven-foot-tall army of former linebackers.

Eliza and Mara entered the club after her without any fanfare. Inside, Eliza began scanning the place for her friends and disappeared into a back room, losing Mara in the crowd. Mara stood by the wall, holding a martini glass and feeling a little out of place. She put down her drink and hit the ladies' room, where she found a chubby Chinese guy stuck halfway through the back window, his arms dangling helplessly over the porcelain sink.

"Excuse me?"

"Help! You, there, in the two-hundred-dollar top and the Jennifer Aniston haircut! Help me!"

Mara took one of his hands-the one not holding an enormous Nikon camera-and pulled him inside.

"Oh, good Lord!" the guy said, wiping his brow. "I should really stay away from the buffet table next time. Too many free meals are not good for moi!"

The man in front of Mara was a pint-sized Chinese guy with an enormous belly and a double chin. He wore a leopard-print jacket over a paisley shirt and shiny, polyester pants. Everything was too small and too tight-as if he had been caught off guard by some sudden expansion of his girth.

"Lucky Yap!" he said, holding out a hand for Mara to shake.

"Mara Waters."

"My savior! I need to get a shot of Chauncey Raven or my boss is going to have my ass. The little tart didn't even stop for photos outside the club. And they wouldn't let me in even though I'm on the list."

"Wow, they can do that?"