Blinding light had Ella covering her face and blinking. “Where is it!” her stepmother screeched, pulling the chain to the bare bulb above Ella’s bed but continuing to shine the flashlight in Ella’s face. “Where the hell is that gown?” she demanded.

Ella hadn’t fallen asleep yet, but she had been on her way. Her thoughts had been on Rome, of how peaceful it had been to stand in the garden with him, to hold his hand, to kiss his lips. She’d been so relaxed; it had been like floating on a cloud, in the world’s best dream.

Then, Teresa had shown up and ruined everything.

Rubbing her eyes, Ella...