Ellen sighed and shifted her gaze to the two dresses on her bed. One was a drab gray pantsuit, all business but nonetheless suited for a metropolitan dinner party. The other was a crimson gown with an off-the-shoulder neckline, a mermaid skirt, and a little train. It was classic Valentino, and it was her mother's dress, but she only remembered Annice wearing it once. She couldn't stomach wearing it or getting rid of it after she died, so she hid it at the back of her walk-in closet instead.

The gray pantsuit was like armor, cool and intimidating and never mistaken for anything other than an attire. The red gown,...