I gasp at the rich color, which demands attention. The skirt is seamed down the middle, so it is more like trousers, and buttons climb up the back. “But everyone will look at me.”

“That’s the point,” she says brightly. “Did you use the toilet yet?”

“Pardon me?”

“It won’t be easy to make the bladder gladder in this number. But I’m in love with my trousers dress concept. If you’re ready, step in like this.”

I carefully work my legs into the garment. From behind me, she pulls the front of the dress over my torso, tying two wide straps into a bow at the nape of my neck and fastening the back buttons. I reach around but don’t feel any fabric on my shoulder blades. “Is something missing?”

She laughs. “Taking risks gives fashion its passion. Wear the cape if you must, but please avoid red wine when wearing it. You don’t know how hard it was to get the cashmere dyed this color. I stitched in sleeves to keep in the warmth.” She holds out a cape in the same rose hue as the dress, and I slip my arms into it, wrapping it around me like a blanket.

My reflection in the vanity mirror reminds me of the elegant long-stemmed English roses found in the gardens of Kensington Palace. I begin to regret the bad haircut, which mars the rose like a clump of mud.

As if thinking the same thing, April fits a rose-colored hat with a rolled brim over my hair and helps me pin the veil to the sides. “I think I saw your brother fixing deck chairs.” April’s smile swings higher. “A handsome young man. Too bad he’s not my type.”

My temper flares. “Because he’s Chinese?”

A wry expression settles on her face, like a robin on a perch. “No, darling. I rather like the Chinese.”

“Oh,” I say, because I can think of nothing else. “Well, right now he’s a codfish.”

She brings out a jeweled brooch from the suitcase and pins it to my cape. “You need to overlook whatever beef you have with him before it’s too late. Trust me, I know.”

“What if his beef is that he doesn’t want me in his life?”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Our parents have passed on, and we’re all we have. But he wants me to go back to England so he can go shovel coal.” I am being overdramatic, but that is the long and short of it.

She stands back. “You do what you want and let him do what he wants. As I am always telling my clients, you must wear the color that suits you, and it may not always be the one you want, or the one others want for you.” She appraises me. “That dusty rose color suits you. It’s a shame you have to wear that veil.”