"What trend are you setting today?" Isabelle asks, leaning her elbows on the bar while he gets out the champagne. It's suitably toast-worthy, so she takes the flute happily. She knows Derek knows that she's not eighteen but she's glad that he's apparently decided to overlook it.

"Stylist," she tells him, running a hand through her hair. "At The Dressing Room. Do you know Kate Gregson?"