The dress arrived at 4 in the afternoon. Lost in her design work, Catherine didn't hear the doorbell ring, and by the time Susan brought her the news, a team of servants had already carried the dress up to the changing room.
Catherine raced up the stairs, taking them two at a time. She charged down the long hallway and into her bedroom. In the center of her closet hung a gray garment bag. The name Margo Fresco was embroidered across the bag in silver thread. She gasped and raced toward the bag, fumbling with the zipper.
The dress inside was stunning. Gently, she ran her hands over the thin, white silk, marveling at how cool the fabric felt. She spun the hanger around, studying the stress. The front was modest and high necked, but the back was nothing more than a series of delicate straps that criss crossed over each other.
