“It’s just, when I search that name, the only things that comes up are some accountant in Illinois and a company that makes dust mops.”

“Try ‘D. Shammas’ plus ‘paintings’ plus ‘millions.’ Sven said he isn’t well known, but his work is very valuable.”

George hit search.

I crossed the room to peer over her shoulder. Zero results. That was weird. Maybe we weren’t spelling it right. Or maybe there were things only artistic types knew about, and D. Shammas was one of them.

“Enough distractions. If you’re not going to wear that dress, what are you going to wear?”

“Don’t worry. I have a plan.”

“Care to share it?”

“I think you’re going to be very surprised,” George said with a devilish grin.

By the time I got home, I was almost frantic. The party was tomorrow and I still didn’t know what to wear. Without the right dress, it would be totally obvious that I was just some local teenager, trying to soak up a little of the Duchess’s glamour. Maybe I should just go naked, I thought. I’ll say I’m doing it for my art. Then I realized Sven would probably do something exactly like that for his disruptive “performance.” Bess would show up in some stunning gown she’d made herself. I could never outshine her. I’d have to think of something different, and fast. I stomped indoors and kicked off my shoes, making a racket.

“Nancy, is that you?”

Hannah was in the kitchen, bifocals perched on the tip of her nose, threading a long, curved needle with pomegranate-colored thread. Balanced on her knees was a hatmaker’s mannequin with a small puff of pink netting secured at its crown by straight pins.

Hannah had laid out a whole array of decorations on the kitchen table: lengths of embroidered trim, flowers made from paper and scraps of fabric, curls of felt, beads, ribbons, feathers, and a pair of glossy, artificial cherries. I couldn’t help reaching out to stroke the petal of a silk magnolia near her elbow.

“Hi, Hannah,” I said, unable to hide the unhappiness in my voice. It was no use trying, anyway. Hannah always knew how I was feeling.

“What’s wrong, Nancy?”

“It’s such a dumb thing to be upset about. But I can’t decide what to wear to the Duchess’s party, and I’m almost out of time!”

“You always look lovely, no matter what you wear,” she said, beaming at me. “A party should be a time to celebrate. Wear what feels good. I’m making myself a nice hat, see?”

“I didn’t know you could make hats!”

“I’m a woman with hidden talents.” Hannah laughed. “When I was young, I enrolled in a one-year millinery school. I thought I would open up a little shop. But you never know what life will throw at you. My mother was ill, so I came home to take care of her. My little shop never came to be.”

“Wow, Hannah, I had no idea.”

“It’s all right, Nancy. Mainly I’m just a fan. I watch the Royal Ascot and the Kentucky Derby every year. I love seeing all the latest styles. I make the occasional hat when I have the time, even though it’s only for my own enjoyment.”