Chaos Girl Rewrites the Script novel · Chapter 9 of 24

Chapter 9: The Dress

At eight the next morning, Quincy Moncrieff was sitting at my grandmother's kitchen table with a folder and a cup of her terrible coffee.

Grandma Hattie put down the pot, looked at both of us, and went upstairs to water a plant that did not need it.

He opened the folder and laid one page on the table.

"This is the dress."

I read it.

It was a tailor's invoice for a black dress, forty-eight hundred dollars, made to measure and delivered on the fifth of October.

It had been billed to the estate of Quincy's father.

"My father died on the fourth," Quincy said. "The funeral was on the sixth."

I turned the page over, though there was nothing on the back.

"You bought a dress for it," he said. "You sent the bill to the estate. You didn't come."

His voice was perfectly even.

He had put his watch on the table beside the folder, and I noticed he had taken it off.

"The lawyer asked my mother whether to pay it. She said yes, and that you were sensitive. I sat in the front pew and watched the door for the whole service."

I could not defend any of it.

I did not have a single thing to say that was true and would help me.

"I'm sorry," I said.

He waited for the rest.

"There isn't a rest."

"You always had one. You were at the hospital. You'd had a migraine. The dressmaker lost the order."

"I know."

"What's the angle, Tilda?"

"There isn't one. I'm not asking for anything."

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