Charlie knocked on Mrs. George's door as I sipped my strawberry milk absentmindedly. He'd knocked five times just like last time. I found it odd. "Why do you knock five times?" I asked, but as Charlie opened his mouth we heard the sound of a chain lock sliding.

The door swung open and there stood Mrs. George. Except this time she looked wholly different. My eyes widened and so did Charlie's, but he cleared his throat and offered her the groceries to hide it.

She took them with a blue nail polished hand. Her face looked fresh, younger, her lips glossed with a rosy tint. Studying her face, she was wearing brown eyeliner to bring out her blue eyes. Her pale blonde hair was smooth and tidy, the curls at the bottom tighter, and on her head was a light blue headband. But most strikingly, she was wearing a 1960's type of shift dress. It went almost to her knee, flaring out a bit as a whole from her shoulders. The collar was a sort of half turtleneck. The whole dress was a powder blue, a color so old world to me. Her legs had on white tights, and her shoes were kitten heels in a matching powder blue. On her wrists were golden bangles, three of them.

She looked so small, so much younger than before. She looked like Alice in Wonderland in 60's Twiggy style. I was stunned.

"Hello, Mrs. George," I breathed.

"It's Georgina," she said quietly, shyly, looking down at the floor.

My heart about stopped. What did she just say?

"Here's your groceries. I gave you an ounce of meat more. It was on the scale already, so I thought it might be okay," Charlie said nervously as she took the groceries from him.

"Thank you, I appreciate it," she told him politely. Her eyes looked up at me then. I noticed she was wearing fake eyelashes. "Would you like to come in, Louise? I can't offer you tea..." She gave a little chuckle.

I gave a laugh that sounded like a sneeze in my surprise. Had she just made a joke?!

"Bless you," she said, thinking I had sneezed. Her hand beckoned me inside, like a grandmother's, sort of to the side. I walked past her into the mostly pink apartment in shock. Charlie bid her farewell, and she closed the door, locking it and sliding the chain lock in place.

I stared at her back as she made her way to the kitchen. She looked like she was in her late thirties maybe. But that couldn't be. She had to be in her fifties at least. I felt like I had entered a time machine.

When I sat on her pink rose patterned couch, I gasped as my eyes fell on something I had forgotten.

The photo book Ambrose and I had made for her sat on her coffee table. My hand rose to my mouth as tears filled my eyes. The photo book. I'd given it to Charlie to give to her. I looked at her and she was staring at me from the open fridge.

"Thank you for the photo album," she said in her quiet way. As she said it, I realized it sounded breathier, lighter than the voice she had used with me previously. It sounded...feminine. "Would you like a bottled water or something? You'll have to keep the cap on when you're not drinking it, though. Wouldn't want a repeat."

Something like a bomb felt like it was going off in my body. The image of her in her Georgina Monroe drag matched up with her voice as she spoke to me. That voice. It sounded like Marilyn Monroe. This voice...

"I've got Poland Spring. I can put some Kool-Aid in it if you want. Kids like Kool-Aid."

My hand gripped the couch as I felt dizzy. This voice. She was using her Georgina Monroe voice! I looked over to her and she was looking at me, smiling small.

"You're awfully quiet compared to before. You weren't so quiet on the street," she chuckled.

Another joke. Surreality set in.

"Just a water is fine, gracias," I said as loudly as I could in the quiet, I felt. I felt so stunned, making me quiet like when a child gets shocked. I couldn't believe it. Standing in the kitchen...was Georgina Monroe, my idol since I was fourteen. This was the person I had hoped to meet. Right there. Gone was the sad old woman I had met, just like that. Replacing her was this younger version, small and feminine and absolutely gorgeous. Joking with me. Making light of things. What had changed?

She smiled again and took a Poland Spring from the fridge. Making her way over to me, her eyes popped open childishly, her lips going into a small "O". It made my heart pinch. "That bottle," she said, gesturing to me with the water as she set it on the table between us, "is that strawberry milk?"

I jumped a little and looked at my hand. My half full container of strawberry milk dangled off the couch in my hand.

"The bunny for that used to be pink, did you know?" she asked, sitting down in her red chair. The intense velvet cake red was jarring against her gentle powder blue dress.

"Oh, yes, actually," I said slowly, staring at her. She acted like nothing at all was the matter. Like nothing was different. It was making me off balance. "When my grandma used to make me it the rabbit was pink on the container. But now he's brown, like on the chocolate milk."

"Your grandma used to make you strawberry milk?" Georgina asked, looking at me with a weird expression, almost one of shock herself. It seemed like she was trying to hide it.

"Yeah, back when I was kid. It was like...the early 80's?" I had a thought. "Forgive me if I am intruding, but...Charlie said you like strawberry milk, too?"

Immediately I regretted asking this question. Her light blue eyes lost their happy flavor. They went dead again. But she smiled and they regained their light. I breathed a sigh of relief to myself.

"Yes, I love it. I drink it every day," she smiled to me.

"I would drink it every day, too," I admitted. "It reminds me of my grandma. She used to make it for me and Ambrose almost every day. We'd be watching Audrey Hepburn movies and she'd come in with a tray of strawberry milk and cookies."

"Reminds you?" she asked delicately, slowly. Her eyes never wavered from me as we were talking. It made my knees feel weak and I was glad to be sitting down. I wondered if she always looked at people with such attention as Georgina Monroe.

"Yes, reminds. My grandma died when I was thirteen," I nodded, putting my strawberry milk on the table next to the water and taking the water instead. I opened it and took a swallow. Something about Georgina made me feel relaxed. It seemed inexplicable, but then my body told me why. This familiar, friendly feeling. It was the same feeling I had when I looked at her pictures with Miss Paula. The realization made me feel like I was floating in a dream.

"I'm sorry, it sounds like you were very close," Georgina said, closing her eyes and breathing deeply. She looked at me again with a sorrowful expression.

Fearing making her sad, I backtracked. "Oh, it was a long time ago. I'm twenty now. I have a lot of things to remember her by anyhow. In fact, she gave me my-" My breath caught in my throat. My eyes bugged as I remembered.

"Are you okay? Did you choke on the water?" Georgina asked innocently.

"N...no..." I said quietly. "It's just that...it's just...I lost something the other night when I came over to your neighborhood. I don't know if you noticed them, but I was wearing pearls those times when you saw me? Quadruple stacked pearls with the diamonds in the middle? Well, the diamonds weren't real, they were cubic zirconias, but-"

"No, the diamonds are real, I assure you."

My eyes bugged out. "...What?" I asked slowly.

She rose her elegant finger and got up from her chair. My eyes followed her as she went behind me and down a short hallway. She disappeared into a room and I heard her in there on the creaky wood. In a second she was out again and in her hands...

"MY MAMA'S PEARLS!" I screamed, my hands flying up to my mouth. Instantly tears fell down my face and I couldn't control them. She handed them to me from behind the couch and I began to sob, holding the precious necklace in my hands which I never thought I'd feel again.

"You dropped them outside of my apartment. It looked like you fell, and the clasp is very funny. I figured it must have slipped right off your neck," she chuckled, sitting down in her red chair again.

"Oh my god, Mrs...Georgina...I can't thank you...I can't...oh my god..." I wailed like a child, hugging my pearls to my chest.

"Oh now," I heard her say. She was up again, going towards her hallway. I looked around to her as she disappeared into a room off of it. When she reappeared she was carrying a tissue box. She offered them to me and I took the box, one hand still grasping my pearls tightly.

"Now, I think you should know, dear. Those stones there in the middle making the swirly design. Those are diamonds. You might want to get that clasp fixed and watch what kinds of neighborhoods you go through when you wear it. I've seen that necklace before. That's an old Tiffany's window item. Trust me, I know. Your grandma was a very, very lucky lady," Georgina said gently, looking at me knowingly.

"T-Tiffany's?!" I gasped, looking at the necklace in my hands like it was a foreign object.

"I knew it would mean something to you," she smiled sneakily. "You liking Audrey Hepburn and all. That necklace looks so much like the one she wore in that movie. I'm sure you know the one. That necklace might be one of the replicas Tiffany's made in honor of the film. You hold onto that. Get that clasp fixed immediately. I won't find it again."

My breathing started to come quickly. I was starting to hyperventilate. The necklace in my hands felt like it was going to melt away if I didn't hold onto it tightly. Tiffany's...this necklace...was from Tiffany's...Audrey...it had been made in honor of the actual Breakfast at Tiffany's...could it be possible?

"Say," Georgina said casually, "what's your drag name? You certainly know what mine was."

"It's...it's Audrey at the Ritz," I whispered, still staring at the necklace in my hands like it was a ghost.

"Of course it is," Georgina chuckled.

A thought struck me. "Was?" I blurted. "But you're calling yourself Georgina now. You're not being Georgina Monroe right now?" A blush rose to my cheeks as I realized I just broken my promise of never calling her that name. But she was still smiling.

"My name is not Georgina Monroe. It's Georgina Caselotti," she said raising her eyebrow. "I thought you'd know that from that picture you saw of me with Frankie. Do you know about the Caselottis?"

Oh my fucking Christ. My eyes just about bugged out of my head.

"So you do know them," she grinned. "Everyone does."

I was so scared I couldn't even repeat the name she had just said. "What do you mean your name is..." I started, but she waved her hand in front of her face to halt my talking.

"That boy in the picture. Here, see," she said, still smiling in a pleased way. She leaned over and opened the photo book on the table, gathering the many pages and opening it to the very back. One single photograph was in the middle of the page just as I remembered.

The picture was in crisp black and white, revealing Georgina kissing the Luke Brower look-a-like in such pure happiness. Georgina was beaming now, so proud. Her blue nail polished finger tapped on the photo on the plastic protector with a clicking sound.

"That's Frankie Caselotti, Frank jr., Frank Caselotti's youngest son. He's twenty-one in that picture. I think it was nearly Christmas. Paulie took this picture. Paulie was pretty sloshed on Christmas punch...or was it eggnog? Anyway. Paulie had been trying to get me to drink all night, but I just said, 'give me strawberry milk or give me death' and Paulie got so mad at me," she was giggling now. "Frankie was so proud of me, though. That's why I got on his lap and kissed him."

I was absolutely speechless. The Caselottis. The infamous Caselottis. She had dated Frankie... A Caselotti. My mouth opened. And her name. Georgina Caselotti. What did that...

"You said your name is...Caselotti," I barely could say, the name whispered.

"Oh yeah, I married him," she beamed.

My hand flew over my mouth.

"What the- How the hell- what-!" I gasped, sputtering all over the place. "The sixties, and the...I don't understand? Marriage between...we can't..." My hands were gesturing and I didn't even know what about.

"Oh darling," she laughed, covering her own mouth femininely. "No, dear, I was a woman on paper."

My jaw dropped. "How..." I blurted.

"That requires me to tell it to you from the start. Do you want some tea or something? I'll put the book away so it can't spill like last time." She was already getting up.

"Yes...yes, please," I whispered in shock.

She started whistling in the kitchen as she made the tea. I just stared at her, so stunned nothing was going through my head.

Georgina Monroe. Georgina Caselotti. Georgina...had married into one of the most infamous families in the history of the New York City mafia as a transgender woman. And now she was here right in front of me. My skin felt prickly at this knowledge, my very skin afraid.