Six Vintage Dresses Left in a Cedar Trunk on Oak Street

Beatrice said.

“No,” Donald said, standing up.

“Let’s go now, before the lunch hour crowd fills the county clerk’s counter.”

I stood up and smoothed my skirt with both hands, feeling the nervous flutter in my throat.

“I will drive,” I said.

The county records office on the second floor of the municipal building smelled of lemon oil and dry paper.

The old continue reading …