Chapter 4: One for Yes

The seamstress held the dress against her chest.

"Afternoon, Miss Eugenia," she said.

"Afternoon." Miss Eugenia smiled at her. "I'll send someone for the dress. It seems it needs letting out."

"It's not getting let out."

Miss Eugenia didn't argue with her.

She looked at me instead.

"Where is she?" I said.

"Where is who, dear?"

"My sister."

"Haley." She said it gently, for the seamstress's benefit. "Your daddy is so worried about you."

She stepped closer, and her perfume smelled like powder and roses.

"You're a photographer," she said, too low for anyone else. "Come sit for me sometime. I'd love a picture of you."

"I'll die first."

"Oh, honey." She patted my cold hand. "Nobody dies."

Then she walked out, and the bell rang over the door.

The next night I drove out to the river road at eleven thirty.

I'd spent Tuesday shooting a family portrait at the park, and I dropped a lens because my left hand couldn't feel it.

The mother had been very nice about it, and she hadn't booked me again.

Jesse had the kitchen light on and a pot of coffee going.

He'd taken the night off from the water plant, and he'd shaved, which I noticed and didn't mention.

I put a sheet of paper on his table.

The night before, I'd sat up and drawn Callie's face in pencil, the way I remembered it.

It wasn't good, but it was her: the gap in her teeth, the hair over one eye.

"Watch this," I said.

I took a picture of the drawing with my phone and turned the screen toward him.

It showed his kitchen table, and on it a blank white sheet of paper.

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