Little Black Dress with Bonus Material by Susan McBride Page A

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    â€œWhere is Annabelle?” she asked me, a panicked look in her eyes when she realized my sister wasn’t with me.
    â€œStill dressing,” I said, not wanting to admit that Anna had ordered me away. And even if I’d declared, “She’s locked in her room, acting very strangely,” it wouldn’t have explained anything. Annabelle didn’t exactly behave in a way most would consider normal, even on an ordinary day.
    â€œThat girl,” Mother murmured. “She’s always holding things up. You go on with your father.” She herded me toward the front door alongside the older ladies. “We’ll meet you at the club.”
    So I sat smashed between the women in Daddy’s backseat, my head humming with their voices as they chatted all the way there; and it was no better once we arrived at the Blue Hills Social Club, where a pianist played loudly and two hundred guests all gabbed at once. I grabbed a glass of punch from the silver tray of a circulating waiter and pressed my spine into a corner of the foyer behind a statue of Athena, and I bided my time until I saw Annabelle walk into the room half an hour later.
    She shed her coat, and I frowned at the sight of her in Grandmother Charlotte’s pearls and the dress from the Gypsy’s shop. I thought she was making her own bad luck, wearing black to such an occasion, but she positively glowed, as if lit from within. Her skin seemed even more alabaster, her blue eyes deeper. The dress fit her like a glove, hugging her hourglass figure, and a stab of envy pricked my heart.
    â€œBreathtaking,” I heard a voice say from somewhere nearby, and I felt as though the word had been stolen from my lips.
    Beneath the chandeliers of the Blue Hills Social Club, the silk shimmered, and heads turned as Anna entered the marbled foyer to greet her guests. When she made her way to my side, she linked my arm in hers, and I sensed a shiver run through her at the very moment a flashbulb went off. For a moment, all I saw were spots.
    â€œI’ll miss you so much when I’m gone, Evie dear. Sometimes I think you’re the only one who even tries to understand me,” she whispered in my ear, and I caught a whiff of the lily of the valley she always wore.
    â€œI’ll miss you, too, Annabelle.” I took her hands and squeezed; convincing myself everything was okay, despite the knot in my belly that said otherwise. “It’ll be so quiet with you out of the house and married to Davis, but at least you won’t be far.”
    She looked at me curiously but said nothing, merely squeezed my hands hard. Then she moved on, kissing cheeks, chatting, and smiling for the photographer until a bell was rung and dinner was served.
    I remember thinking the night should have been picture-perfect. All the ingredients were there—dozens of friends and family, many from out of town, Anna looking as resplendent as I’d ever seen her, and Davis as handsome as any movie star—only I had a sense of impending doom, confirmed when Anna stood up to toast her future husband.
    There was something in her face that made me sit up straighter, the coconut-sprinkled cake I’d just eaten churning in my stomach, even before she turned to her fiancé and said quite plainly, “I apologize to everyone, and to you most, Davis, but I can’t marry you. I do like you well enough but I don’t love you near as much as my daddy does, and everyone in town knows Christine Moody has been crazy about you for ages. She’s the one you should be with, not me.”
    A collective gasp filled the room, and I threw my hand over my mouth, afraid I might throw up everything I’d just eaten. What the devil was she doing?
    Cool as a cucumber, Anna set down her champagne flute and smiled sadly. “I can’t pretend to be something I’m not. When I marry— if I marry—it will be for love and love alone.” She