Grandma’s room felt colder now, like it had already forgotten her.
I opened the closet slowly, breathing in her familiar scent. For a moment, it felt like she was still there, about to scold me for snooping.
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” I muttered. “Privacy is important.”
I pushed aside a few dresses, then froze. At the back was a garment bag I had never seen before.
“That’s new,” I whispered.
I pulled it out and unzipped it carefully. Inside was a soft blue dress.
“No way…”
I lifted it, the fabric light in my hands, as if it didn’t belong to that house at all.
“This is your prom dress…” I whispered. “You really kept it all this time.”
I held it up against myself in the mirror. It fit. Almost perfectly.
Behind me, Mrs. Kline appeared in the doorway. “Oh, that dress.”
“You’ve seen it?”
“Once,” she said. “A long time ago. She never let anyone touch it.”
“I’m wearing this to the funeral.”
Mrs. Kline nodded quickly. “It’ll need a little fixing, but I know the perfect man. Careful hands. Works with vintage pieces all the time.”
“Fine,” I said.
