“No.”
“Why not?”
“I like that they are not perfect.”
It was not enough to make me forgive the shock of seeing the gown.
But it was enough to stop me from taking it away.
“Keep it on,” I said.
Madeline blinked.
“Just go.”
She placed a small card on the porch railing.
“My daughter, Penelope, is having tea tomorrow afternoon. The invitation is on the back.”
“I won’t come.”
“I understand.”
She stepped away.
I closed the door and leaned against it.
The envelope remained in my hand.
I told myself I would not open it.
I lasted less than a minute.
Teresa had searched for that dress for nearly six months.
She tried on at least forty gowns.
Green ones.
Pink ones.
Dresses covered in sequins.
Dresses so wide she could barely fit through the changing-room curtain.
Then she stepped out wearing pale blue.
The satin skirt fell softly around her legs.
The neckline was simple.
Five pearls decorated the left shoulder.
She turned once in front of the mirror.
