All I could think about was the dress. How wearing it might make it feel like Grandma wasn’t really gone.
I had no idea it would be the first thing to prove I never really knew her at all.
The tailor shop downtown looked like it had been there forever. The faded sign, the dusty window, the bell that rang too loudly when I walked in.
“Be right there,” a man’s voice called from the back.
I stepped inside and immediately noticed the smell.
Fabric. Old wood. And lilac—the same scent Mrs. Kline wore.
“That’s weird,” I murmured.
“Not really,” the man said, stepping out and wiping his hands. “Half the women in this town smell like lilac. Guess it sticks to everything.”
He smiled. “You must be Emma.”
I frowned. “Yeah… how did you—”
“Mrs. Kline called ahead. Name’s Mr. Chen.”
“I brought a dress,” I said, holding it out carefully.
Mr. Chen took it with both hands. “Well,” he said slowly, “this isn’t something you see every day.”
“It was my grandma’s. Lorna.”
He paused. “Lorna… Yeah. I remember her.”
“You knew her?”
“Small town. You cross paths.” He didn’t look at me when he said it.
I sat down while he examined the dress.
“You’re wearing it to the service?”
“Yeah. I figured… she’d like that.”
“Sentimental. She always had a thing for holding onto the past.”
That didn’t sound like a compliment.
“She never even told me about it,” I said. “About prom or anything. It’s not like her.”
Mr. Chen ran his fingers along the hem. “People don’t always tell the full story. Sometimes they edit.”
“That’s a weird way to put it.”
“Is it?” He adjusted the fabric. “You live in her house now?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s a lot to take on at your age.”
“I’ll manage,” I said quickly.
His fingers suddenly stopped. “Hold on.”
My heart skipped. “What?”
“There’s something in the hem. That shouldn’t be there.”
I stood up immediately. “What do you mean?”
“Sometimes people hide things in clothing. Especially items they don’t want found easily.”
“That’s not funny.”
“I’m not joking.”
He reached into the seam and pulled out a small folded piece of paper, yellowed with age.
My hands shook before I even touched it.
“That was inside?”
“Stitched in. Very deliberately.”
I unfolded it carefully. The paper felt fragile, ready to fall apart. I read the first line, and everything inside me dropped.
CONTINUE READING...>>
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