"Sydney! Sydney Duke! I need you downstairs, right now!"

The shrill sound of Sydney's mother's voice echoed all the way up her polished mahogany staircase, down the plush off-white carpeted hall, and right through the walls of Sydney's bedroom.

"I'm coming!" Sydney shouted back as she reluctantly earmarked the page she was reading in the latest issue of Teen Vogue and turned off the flat screen where the final minutes of her Girlfriends rerun was showing for the millionth time. She snatched up her hot-pink Marc Jacobs bag and matching jean jacket, even though Atlanta and the surrounding suburbs were still warm in late September. Nothing irked her more than when her mother yelled through the house like a wild banshee, but from the tone of her mother’s voice, Sydney knew she needed to hurry downstairs and deal with whatever drama awaited before her ride arrived.

She had barely entered the kitchen before her mother started in on her. "Sweetie, I really think this time I may have found the perfect dress for you!"

"Honestly, Mom. The way you were screaming, I thought this was a life-threatening emergency." Sydney grabbed a handful of grapes from the crystal fruit bowl.

"This is an emergency. We only have a few weeks left, and Lord knows it'll take at least that long to find both you and your sister the perfect dresses."

"I suppose," Sydney signed, leaning over her mother's shoulder to glance at the dog-eared page of the October issue of Vanity Fair that lay open. "Um, as much as I love Roberto Cavalli's dresses for—I don’t know—the MTV Awards, don't you think it's a bit flashy for your party?" she hinted none too subtly, after quickly perusing the over-the-top, beaded, strapless creation shown in the fashion layout. "How about a dress with a little understated elegance? Something more along the lines of Tracy Reese."

Her mother rolled her eyes. "Nothing about my twelve-year-anniversary party is going to be described as understated. And there's no way I, Keisha Duke, will allow either of my daughters to blend in with the crowd on such a big and very expensive night in honor of our family. So you can just forget about Tracy Reese."

"Mom," Sydney pleaded. "She's one of my favorite designers!"