Six Vintage Dresses Left in a Cedar Trunk on Oak Street

between us, its opened lining showing the white buckram beneath.

“She wore this to the courthouse in ninety-eight,” Jane said, her fingers curling around her leather notebook. “The day Father’s will was first read.”

“I remember,” I said, looking out at the gravel driveway. “She stood on the steps and refused to let Richard’s father continue reading …