Chapter 3
Nine days left.
Nina's assistant called that afternoon. An emergency hearing had delayed my consultation until the following day.
When I returned home, our bedroom closet stood open.
My silver gown was gone. Its empty garment bag hung from the rail with the zipper halfway down and a broken silver thread caught at the bottom.
The gown had been made for our tenth-anniversary dinner. My name was sewn inside the waist, and the hem had been measured for the shoes I planned to wear.
Grant came out of the bathroom fastening his cuff.
"Where is my gown?"
"Vanessa's dress was damaged. I let her borrow yours for a few hours."
"You gave her my anniversary gown for your prom?"
Grant finally looked at me. He was wearing a tuxedo with a white rose pinned to his lapel—the same flower I had chosen for our anniversary dinner.
"It's only a dress. She's nervous enough already."
He picked up the silver cuff links I had given him on our fifth anniversary and walked out. The empty hanger swayed after the door closed.
I saved the gown's order confirmation, receipt, and fitting photographs to my evidence folder. Then I drove to the Westbury Hotel.
A sign outside the ballroom read:
The Prom We Never Had.
Beneath it was a photograph of Grant and Vanessa at seventeen, smiling with their heads together.
I followed the sound of scissors to a second-floor dressing room.
Vanessa stood before the mirror wearing my gown. A seamstress knelt at her feet, shortening the hem. On the vanity lay the piece she had removed from inside the waist.
My name was embroidered across it.
Natalie Bennett.
I pushed open the door. The seamstress stopped cutting.
Vanessa met my eyes in the mirror and smoothed both hands over the waist.
"Grant said you wouldn't mind."
I photographed the label, the cut hem, and the scissors.
"Now you know I do."
Her lower lip began to tremble.
"If my results are bad, this may be the last formal gown I ever wear."
Grant appeared in the doorway. He saw my phone and the label bearing my name.
He did not ask why Vanessa had damaged my dress.
Instead, he crossed the room and adjusted the strap on her shoulder.
"Everyone is waiting downstairs."
Vanessa took his arm, and they left together.
I saved the photographs and the time of our conversation. I would not wrestle my gown away from her in front of a hotel full of our friends.
But neither of them would ever call this a misunderstanding.
The ballroom lights dimmed.
Vanessa appeared at the top of the staircase in my silver gown. Crystal light moved across the fabric as Grant waited below with one hand extended.
The shortened hem exposed her silver shoes, and the cut edge lifted unevenly when she moved. Grant's white rose matched the flowers I had ordered for our dinner.
Ten years earlier, he had waited for me at the end of a wedding aisle in exactly the same way.
Vanessa placed her hand in his.
One of our mutual friends raised his glass.
"If Vanessa hadn't left, this might have been your life all along."
Uneasy laughter moved through the room.
I waited for Grant to deny it.
He bent to straighten the shortened hem of my gown and said nothing.
After the first dance, Vanessa approached me with a champagne glass. She touched the empty place inside the waist where my name had been.
"It's strange," she said. "This is your dress."
Then she leaned close enough that only I could hear her. The fragile expression vanished, revealing a small smile.
"But it still fits the woman he remembers."
The music stopped before I could answer.
The ballroom lights went dark one by one. Vanessa walked into the only remaining spotlight, where Grant was already waiting.
Phones rose around the room.
Grant took her hand and lowered himself onto one knee.
Then he removed a dark blue velvet ring box from his pocket.
All the warmth left my fingers.
That box belonged in the bottom drawer of my bedroom dresser.
It held the sapphire ring my mother had left me.