Six Vintage Dresses Left in a Cedar Trunk on Oak Street

sat on the end, her fingertips clicking a rapid, uneven rhythm against the glass of her phone screen.

“Put that away, Clara,” Beatrice whispered, her voice a low, level rasp that carried no more than six inches.

Beatrice adjusted her wire-rimmed glasses, sliding her forefinger firmly against the bridge, then folded her hands over the leather purse on continue reading …