After Izzy had thoroughly convinced herself she was safe and was able to step outside of the privacy of her sleeping quarters again, a new independence set in. The next few days passed by quickly. Living on the train was exhilarating.

For the very first time in her life, she was able to go wherever she wanted. No one was there to monitor or question her. At the second train stop, she bought a new suitcase and a few outfits at a large department store, two colorful cotton dresses and a low necked cotton blouse with a pencil skirt, a purchase that would have thrown her mother into a tizzy if she'd been there to see it. Something about that elated her.

As the train pulled close to Los Angeles' Union Station, she felt as if she'd travelled to a different world. So many people lined the sidewalks and the streets. She'd never seen so many cars, one after another—mostly new, fancy cars.

There were so many tall buildings and palm trees—she'd only seen pictures of palm trees in books. The only thing disrupting the beauty was the thick smog that hovered above it all, but no one seemed to mind it at all. The train pulled into the station, exhaling to a stop. With a thrill of excitement that spread through her veins, Izzy grabbed her purse and her suitcase.

"This is it," she whispered to herself, struck with the feeling that her life was about to change completely.

She held her head high as she stepped off the train onto the platform. She was wearing the low cut blouse with the pencil skirt, her hair curled and pinned up in an elegant style. She'd spent quite a bit of time on her makeup, bringing out her eyes like the woman she'd met in Chicago. As she walked down the platform to the station, she finally felt like a woman instead of a girl. Her confidence was further boosted by the heads that turned to stare as she went.

She walked through the crowded station and onto the street. It was around five o'clock in the evening. The sidewalks were filled with people bustling around, some headed home from work with briefcases in tow, others dressed up, headed for a night out on the town. In front of her, a young boy stood on a crate in the middle of it all, the latest news waving in his hand.

She planned to visit Rita first, hoping things would fall into place from there. Perhaps Rita would know a safe place for her to stay, or better yet, let her stay with her.

Her mother's voice chided in the back of her mind, "a respectable young lady never invites herself to a friend's house." Once again, her mother would be very disappointed in her.

She'd never hailed a taxi cab before, but she'd seen it done in the movies. Squeezing through the crowd, she stood near the curb and raised her hand at the first yellow cab to roll down the street. She was thrilled when he pulled over to the curb in front of her.

Feeling accomplished, she told the cab driver the address that Rita had written in her letter. With sharp, dark eyes, he looked her over as he hoisted her suitcase into the cab's trunk. "Is this your first time visiting? You sure chose the right place to stay. The hills are a real classy part of town. Everyone dreams about living there."

Settled into the back seat, Izzy thought about his words as the taxi navigated through the crowded streets, anxiety setting in. She didn't know anything about Rita's life outside of Saint Mary's Home for Unwed Mothers. In all other areas of Rita's life, Izzy was a complete stranger. Was she invading her private life? After all, she herself wouldn't have come if she hadn't decided on a whim—using it as an excuse to run away.

Her palms started to sweat. She clamped her hands together as they drove out from under the tall buildings and up a long hill on a newly paved highway surrounded by luscious palm trees and other plants and flowers she'd never seen before.

"Beautiful drive," said the cab driver. "I'm always excited when I can take someone this way. All of the big stars live around here."

"Yes, it is," Izzy said eying the huge stucco mansions set on long driveways away from the road.

She wondered how many bedrooms a house like that might have and whether the people who lived there used them all.

"Elizabeth Taylor is one of 'em," the cab driver continued. "Her house is over there on the left. The pretty yellow one with all the flowers."

Izzy's stomach fluttered as she took in the massive residence that was the movie star's home. Perhaps Rita had mistakenly given her the wrong address. She couldn't possibly live in the same neighborhood as Elizabeth Taylor.

They turned down a winding road lined with large estates on both sides, each one unique. They were nothing like the quaint cookie cutter neighborhood she'd grown up in. In fact, four of the houses on her street could have squeezed into one of the mansion's yards.

"Here it is," the driver pulled into a driveway lined with a fancy white brick wall and pink magnolia shrubs. "Well, lady, you sure know how to choose your friends."

The modern house in front of them was made of light pink stucco with a brown Spanish roof. Beautifully cared for palm trees adorned it on all sides.

Drawing in her breath, she stepped out onto the white brick walkway, taking in the sprawling house and yard. The driver handed her her suitcase. She thought about asking him to wait, but decided against it. If Rita didn't open the door, she'd need to find a phone somewhere to get back to town.

Her heart knocked against her chest as she rang the doorbell next to two tall wooden front doors. She heard footsteps inside. Full of nerves, she adjusted her skirt and tucked a strand of hair back behind her ear.

The door swung open and a sculptured man in his late thirties looked down at her. "May I help you, Miss?"

"Yes, sir. My name is Izzy—Isadora Twiss. I'm looking for my dear friend, Rita? She wrote me with this address."

He looked a little too young to be Rita's father. Her heart sank. It was the wrong address. She'd come all this way and she might not even be able to find her.

The man smiled, his eyes a sea blue. "Oh, you're a friend of Rita's? Come in and have a seat, I'll go get her."

She stepped into the foyer, setting the her suitcase on the floor. A chandelier caught the rays of sun above her head, casting little rainbows on the lemon colored walls. The man guided her to a sitting room with an elegant sofa and chairs. She sat and crossed her legs, fidgeting as he strolled into the other room to find Rita.

A beautiful painting of a woman in red hung in front of her on top of the mantel. Half of her face was covered with her burgundy hair. The other half she recognized immediately—Rita.

The clicking sound of heels on tile resounded through the massive home. Izzy stood, her hands at her sides, peering nervously in the direction the steps were coming from.

Rita stepped into the room. The look on her face when she saw Izzy was a mix of surprise and—perhaps fear. Izzy hoped it wasn't fear.

"Izzy. I—oh my gosh! You're here. I never thought you'd actually come. I—." She looked to the man standing a few steps behind her, then back to Izzy. "How did you get here? Did you come all by yourself?"

Izzy shifted, feeling incredibly uneasy. "Yes, I—uh—I got the letter you sent me. I wanted to be here for your wedding." She looked from Rita to the man behind her, biting her lip.

The man cleared his throat, raising his eyebrows at Rita.

"Oh sorry," Rita said, stepping back to clasp the man's arm. "Izzy this is Warren, my fiancé. And Warren, this is Izzy—my...my good friend that I met this summer."

Warren reached out his hand and gripped Izzy's firmly. "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Izzy. I'm glad you came. Do you have a place to stay?"

His eyes lingered over her, making her feel slightly uncomfortable. She glanced at Rita. "I was planning on finding a place in town. I just thought I'd make sure the address was correct—."

"Oh, don't worry, there's plenty of room here," said Rita with a smile. "We'd love to have you stay with us."

Izzy was a little surprised that the two of them were living together before their marriage. Perhaps Rita's parents were content with the fact that she would be married soon.

"I don't want to be a burden," Izzy said. "I know you're both busy with the wedding and I didn't give you any notice."

Warren threw up his hand. "It's no problem. Everything is already ironed out for the wedding. It will be good for Rita to have some company around here. Please stay, I insist."

"It's settled then," said Rita, clapping her hands together. "Let's bring your things to the guest room and I'll show you around."

As Izzy followed behind Rita, Warren headed out of the back door where there laid a huge inground pool and pool house. As soon as they were alone in the guest room, Rita threw her arms around Izzy and they held each other tightly.

"Gosh, Izzy, I never thought I'd see you again," Rita said when they pulled apart, tears shining in her eyes. "I'm so happy to see you made it out of that awful place with your sanity intact. Was it horrible after I left? What about Dottie? And Gloria—bless her soul, did Gloria cause all sorts of trouble?"

There were so many things that Izzy needed to tell her. It was as if someone had finally removed the cork from her mouth, words exploding out of it. She told Rita about Dottie and how they'd faked her drowning, and about all of Gloria's antics. She only left out Francine—because talking about her hurt the worst—she still felt incredibly guilty.

"I sent a letter to Gloria too," said Rita, turning somber. "But it was returned. I really didn't expect either of you to respond, much less come all the way here. But I'm really happy you did."

"Things have been really hard at home," said Izzy, looking down. "Everyone pretends as if nothing ever happened. My life's become a lie. Rita—I can't forget it. I saw my baby after she was born. Well, not all of her, but just enough. As hard as I try, I can't let her go—I—."

"Shhh," Rita put her hand to her mouth. "We can't talk about this anymore. Not now. Warren doesn't know."

Izzy nodded. "I understand. Don't worry. As far as everyone else knows, I'm your good friend from summer—."

"Summer vacation with my cousin," said Rita.

"Right, your cousin." Izzy smiled. "And I was sick, visiting my aunt."

They laughed for a second. "Well, now that we've gotten our stories straight," said Izzy. "Tell me about Warren and how you ended up in California."

"Well, let's see." Rita sat down on the quilted queen sized bed, motioning for Izzy to sit next to her. "Warren and my father have known each other for years. His first wife passed away almost a year ago and he was living in this big house all alone. His dreams of one day having a family were shattered until my father introduced the two of us. I was uneasy at first, to be sure. He's so much older than me. But, he was so doting and chivalrous, I knew I had to say yes when he proposed."

"You're so incredibly lucky," said Izzy. "This place is every girl's dream. And he obviously cherishes you. Your picture is already on the mantel."

"I often think I'll wake up and it will all be just a dream," said Rita with a laugh. "But, here we are. The wedding is just a week away."

Izzy grabbed her hand, holding it tight. "I'm happy for you. You deserve a happy ending."

Tears filled Rita's eyes once again and she quickly hopped off the bed.

"I can't wait to show you around Hollywood, Izzy. There's a party we're invited to this evening, lots of stars will be there. It's going to be fabulous."