Page 15 of Summer After Summer

“They do.”

Tracy stands at one end, and I take the other. I’ve got the casual clothes, pedal pushers and light linen shirts, her summer wardrobe. Her winter and more formal clothes are at Tracy’s end.

“Do you think it’s weird that William never cleaned out any of this?” I ask.

“Maybe he liked having her things around.”

“But what about …”

My father’s never said, but I assume he’s been with someone in the time since my mother died. Did he ever bring the women here? Or was Charlotte’s presence a deterrent? I haven’t asked, which Charlotte would say is more evidence of the fact that I’ve left her to “deal with everything.” And maybe I have.

“If you’re asking if he’s had women, as far as I know, no. He did love your mother, you know. Very much.”

“That doesn’t mean he has to be alone forever.”

Tracy smiles, the laugh lines around her eyes spreading out like spiderwebs. “You probably don’t remember this, but the divorcées did circle after the funeral, bringing casseroles and offering to help look after you girls. Your father shooed them all away, and eventually they gave up.”

“Maybe they were scared of you.”

Tracy had lived with us for a full year after Mom died. Sometimes I’d fantasize that she and my dad would get married, but when I mentioned it to her once, she laughed and kissed me and said that there were many kinds of love. I knew that meant I wasn’t getting her as a stepmom.

“That’s possible. What about this?” Tracy says, holding up a white shift dress. It has blue and green flowers embroidered around the collar.

“That was one of Mom’s favorites.”

“You should try it on.” She holds it out to me, and I hesitate. I have so many memories of my mother in this dress. She wore it often when she and William had garden parties like the one scheduled for tonight. “Don’t worry,” Tracy says. “It’s not haunted.”

“This whole house is haunted.”

“I’ve never felt that.”

“I always have.”

I take the dress from her and walk to the old-fashioned changing screen my mom had installed in the corner of the room. I used to hide back there with Sophie and watch her get ready for a night out. She had this beautiful strawberry-blond hair that she’d brush and brush until it fell like a shimmery curtain down her back.

I step out of my clothes and into the dress. It’s narrow in the hips, but broader in the shoulders. On my mother, it fell beneath her knees, but for me, it stops above them, a more modern length.

“Will you help me zip up?” I leave the screened area and turn my back to Tracy. She tugs on the zipper and raises it slowly up my back. It feels like a miracle when it goes all the way.

“How does it feel?”

“I can breathe.”

“Turn around.” I do and Tracy’s eyes well up. “Oh, honey. Look at you.” She takes my shoulders and turns me toward the full-length mirror on the wall. The dress fits perfectly, like it was made for me. “You look so much like her.”

I lean forward, trying to see what she sees. I’m pale, and the strawberry strands I had when I was young have mostly leached out of my hair, but our blue eyes are the same, and the weight loss has given angles to my face I’ve never seen before. “I miss her.”

“I know, honey—me too.” Tracy hugs me from the side again, and we look at each other in the mirror. Tracy smiles, and I smile back. It’s easier than crying. “You should wear this tonight. Fred won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”

My smile slips, and I dip away from her. I walk back behind the screen and reach for the zipper. It’s hard to undo on my own, but I manage it after a few false starts.

“I’m sorry. Did you not know he was coming?”

“No, I did. I just …” I poke my head around the screen. “Why do you care what he thinks about me? You never liked him.”

“That’s not true.”

“Come on, Aunt Tracy.”

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