The curtain opened.
Mrs. Howard stepped onto the stage holding a folder.
Shirley’s smile disappeared.
“You.”
The microphone caught the word.
Mrs. Howard calmly explained that Shirley had visited her shop weeks earlier with photographs of a dusty pink dress and requested an exact copy.
Shirley immediately denied everything.
Mrs. Howard opened the folder.
“These are the intake images from that appointment.”
Photos appeared on the large screen.
My bedroom mirror.
My closet.
Mom’s garment bag.
A stunned murmur spread through the gym.
Shirley laughed nervously.
“It’s only a dress.”
Mrs. Chen stepped forward.
“No. It isn’t.”
The screen changed.
A photograph of Mom appeared.
Not Mom during her illness.
Mom laughing inside the school auditorium years earlier.
Mrs. Chen explained that my mother had sewn my prom dress as one final gift before she died.
Now everyone understood.
Shirley wasn’t wearing a similar dress by accident.
