Chapter 4: Hollander, D.

Mom booked my fitting for Saturday at ten, at the bridal shop on Water Street.

She said it was a gift, and she wore her good pearls.

I wore a gray coat and a calm face.

The seamstress had pins in her mouth and a tape measure around her neck, and she put me in the big fitting room at the back.

"Your gown's on the left rack," she said around the pins. "Mrs. Brennan, you'll want to see it on her."

"In a moment," Mom said. "I'm going to find Dawn some water."

She left, and I stood alone in the mirrored room.

My gown hung on the left rack in its bag, cream satin, bought in January for a September wedding.

On the right rack hung a second bag.

It was longer, with a train, and the tag on its zipper was written in thick black marker.

HOLLANDER, D. Ivory. Hem for heels. Needs sleeves taken in by June 1.

I read it twice.

The zipper had been pulled a few inches, and I saw lace, and under the lace a pearl-buttoned back.

It was a wedding dress.

It had a groom's last name on it.

I took out my phone and photographed the tag, and then the dress, and then the shop's address on the wall behind it.

My hands were quite steady.

I was getting good at that.

The door opened and Dawn came in, still in her coat.

She saw my phone, then saw where I was looking, and she shut the door behind her very softly.

"Mom's out front with the owner," she said. "She's going to take a while. She wanted a deposit receipt."

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