“I don’t think…Yes, I did!” Claire sounded surprised. “You’re right, Hannah. I broke down some cartons and carried them out. And there was someone in the alley. A homeless man was huddled up in the thrift shop doorway, waiting for it to open.”

“Do you have any idea what time that was?” Hannah asked as she removed the black dress from the hanger.

“I think it was about a quarter to eight. When I got back inside, I pressed a dress and then Becky Summers called to ask if the alterations were finished on her new pantsuit. I glanced at my watch and I remember thinking that only Becky would have the nerve to call me a full two hours before I opened, so it must have been eight.”

“What did this homeless man look like?”

“I’m sure you’ve seen him around town, Hannah. He’s tall and his hair sticks up in spikes. It’s this awful red….” Claire paused and she sounded embarrassed when she spoke again. “It’s not like your hair, Hannah. Yours is a lovely auburn color. This man’s hair is so red, it’s almost orange, like a clown.”

Hannah added that tidbit to her memory banks as she lifted the dress over her head and stuck her arms through the sleeves. She wiggled, the silk slipped down with a slither, and she reached behind her to pull up the zipper by its little tab. The dress fit her perfectly. Claire had a good eye for size.

“Does it fit you, Hannah?” Claire’s voice floated in again.

“Like a glove.” Hannah took a deep breath and glanced in the mirror. The stranger that stared back at her looked shocked. Not only did the dress fit—it was stunning on her. And Hannah had never looked stunning before in her life.

“Do you like it?”

It took Hannah a moment to find her voice. “It’s…uh…it’s great.”

“Come out and let me see if I need to do any alterations.”

“You don’t.” Hannah kicked off her favorite old Nikes. They didn’t exactly go with her new image. And then she opened the door and walked out.

Claire’s mouth dropped open when she saw her. “I knew it would be perfect for you, but I had no idea it would turn you into a femme fatale. You have to take it, Hannah. I’ll give you a huge discount. This dress was made for you.”

“I think you’re right.” There was wonder in Hannah’s voice as Claire led her over to the three-way mirror and she studied her reflection. She looked sophisticated, gorgeous, and utterly feminine.

“You want it, don’t you, Hannah?”

Hannah turned to the mirror again. If she squinted, the woman who stared back at her looked a little like Katharine Hepburn. Her first instinct was to tell Claire to wrap up the dress, that price was no object, but reality intruded. Price was an object and she knew it. “Of course I want it, but I don’t know if I can afford it. How much does it cost?”