“The ones from the summer before Mom died.”

“I have the whole album,” Clare said.

“David found it in the cedar chest behind the legal folders.”

We sat together on the hood of the station wagon under the stars, eating our ice cream while the country club lights slowly clicked off one by one.

David brought the garment bag out through the side doors of the country club at ten past one in the morning.

The white satin hanging loop was hooked over his right index finger, and he held the hem of the dress off the damp blacktop with his left hand.