Six Vintage Dresses Left in a Cedar Trunk on Oak Street

lining with a rusted straight pin. Written in our mother’s tight, slanting hand were five words: To my quiet observer.

“She knew,” Jane said, her fingers tightening on the notebook. “She knew I was always sitting on the stairs, listening to her talk to the lawyers.”

“Did you hear them talk about the price?” I asked.

Jane looked down at her lap, her shoulder continue reading …