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The
dress arrived with a cryptic note. Tessa opened the door at the first
knock, after the broken doorbell gave a strident peal that faded into a
torturous shriek. A UPS driver, wearing a dark brown uniform, handed her
a clipboard. “Delivery for T. Grenville.” “That's
me.” “Sign
in the electronic box.” He indicated the laser pen attached to the
clipboard, and Tessa scrawled her name. She
took the large box from him, and he left, whistling Old Susannah
off-key. Tessa brought the box in the house and closed the door behind
her. After
she set the box on the threadbare couch, Tessa searched for a pair of
scissors or a box cutter. She settled for a kitchen knife and returned
to the box. She carefully opened the tape. She expected to find the
wallpaper and carpet samples Linden-Ashby Interiors had promised to send
by mid-week. It was already Friday. Tessa
removed the tissue paper and gasped at what lay beneath it. It was a
garment of some kind, made of emerald green velvet and satin. Tessa
lifted the lid of the box to verify the address. T.
Grenville It
was supposed to be her package, but she knew it couldn't actually be
hers. Even
though she was positive it was a mistake, Tessa lifted out the material.
It fell to the floor with a soft whisper, as the velvet slid through her
fingers. It was an elegant evening dress, reminiscent of a ball gown
from more than a century ago, minus the bustle. The
fitted bodice plunged daringly, and was trimmed with shiny satin in the
same shade of green as the dress. The sleeves were tiny caps of wispy
lawn, in a paler shade of green. The skirt flared out at the waist, and
the hemline was piped with satin. When she turned the dress, Tessa found
a discreet zipper at the back. Very
gently, Tessa laid the dress across the worn couch and looked into the
box. She hoped to find an explanation. Instead, she found a pair of
emerald green kid slippers—just her size, a seven narrow—a long
black cloak, and a mask. She lifted the mask from the paper to admire
its beauty. It was plain green satin, with tiny seed pearls stitched at
the corners of the eyes to imitate feathers. It was a half-mask, meant
to cover only from her eyebrows to the bridge of her nose. Satin ribbons
extended from the sides, to fasten the mask around her face. She
gave into temptation and lifted the mask over her face before she walked
to the cracked mirror in the hallway that had hung there since long
before she was born. The mask brightened the hint of green in her brown
eyes and minimized her blunt nose. Her mouth appeared full and lush, and
the color of the mask was very complimentary with her russet curls. With
a sigh, Tessa removed the mask and laid it beside the dress and
slippers, before she delved back into the box. When she found a small
cream card, at first she assumed it would have the owner's name listed.
Instead, in bold, slashed letters, the note read: A
car will be sent for you at eight this evening, and will wait exactly
five minutes. If you don't come out, or if you aren't alone, the car
will drive off. The dress and accessories are yours with my compliments,
regardless of your decision, Tessa. There
was no signature or clue as to who had sent the note. The sight of her
name in the black scrawl sent a frisson of excitement darting through
her. The UPS driver had not accidentally delivered this box to her.
Clearly, the sender had intended she receive it. It
was probably Sue Ellen. Her best friend was notorious for strange gifts
and games of intrigue, and Tessa didn't imagine the four hundred miles
that now separated her from Portland would keep Sue Ellen from her fun.
Tessa put the card and dress back in the box, then haphazardly tossed
the shoes and mask atop it, before she covered it all with the cloak. It
was a shame the dress would go to waste, but she didn't believe in
taking chances. Both times she had done so, it had cost her too dearly.
First a broken heart, followed by a ruined career years later. She
returned to the kitchen where she had been cleaning. Tessa replaced the
rubber gloves she had removed in her haste to open the door and attacked
the years of gunk left on the stove by her disinterested father. She had
been at it less than five minutes when she impatiently ripped off the
gloves and tossed them aside. She
muttered to herself as she stomped into the living room. Tessa tripped
on a hole in the carpet and barely regained her balance. She kicked the
spot before she returned to the couch and gently lifted the dress,
shoes, and mask from the box. With an impatient sigh, she walked up the
creaking stairs and hung the dress in the closet of the room she was
using. Whoever
had bought it had obviously spent a large sum, and she didn't want it
wrinkled beyond recognition. Tessa wanted to return it in good shape, as
soon as she figured out whom to return it to. Satisfied,
Tessa left the master bedroom, which had stood unused for over a year
before she moved back to the house. She returned to her chores in the
kitchen, but the dress beckoned to her. If
it was a prank by Sue Ellen, there was no harm in indulging her friend.
She couldn't think of anyone else who would do such a thing, and the
thought of wearing the dress was tempting. Be
reasonable,
she chided herself. If the person who sent the dress wasn't her friend,
they could have any number of motives. It was better to be safe than
sorry. But
would she be sorry if she played it safe?
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