Chapter 6 - The DiagramTwenty minutes later, two officers walked into the dining room. By then almost every guest had given up pretending not to watch. Camille went straight to them. "She's trying to remove property I paid for."

One officer looked to the coordinator. "Ma'am?" She handed him a folder.

While they reviewed it, Simon came over to me. "Jen."

"What is happening?"

"The manager called the police because Mom wouldn't let the boutique take the dresses. But there's something else."

Before he could explain, an officer looked across the room. "Is Jennifer here?"

Every head turned. I stepped forward. "That's me."

He gave me a reassuring look. "You're not in any trouble." Camille started to speak; he lifted a hand. "Ma'am, please." Then to me: "We were called about a dispute involving several garments from tonight. The vendor's documentation shows the disputed clothing still belongs to the boutique."

I looked at Camille. "You're fighting over dresses that aren't even yours?"

"They were paid for!"

"Deposits were paid," the officer said. "That doesn't establish ownership."

Camille's face went bright red. The coordinator added, "Several garments were also never accepted by the women they were ordered for."

I thought immediately of the conversation in the restroom.

Simon touched my elbow. "Jen, come with me." He led me toward the coatroom, the coordinator following with a tablet. Camille started after us; Rowan stopped her. "Let them go."

The coordinator opened an order record. My name at the top. Jennifer. Below it, my actual current dress size. Underneath that, a later modification — four sizes smaller, authorized by Camille. My stomach tightened. Then I saw the typed instruction beside it:

DO NOT SUBSTITUTE LARGER.

I read it twice.

"I called the boutique two days ago because I wanted to exchange your dress," Simon said quietly.

"You did?"

"Yes."

The coordinator scrolled further. "There's something else you should probably see." She opened another file Camille had attached to the orders. "Your mother-in-law wanted every woman's clothing coordinated according to where she intended them to stand in the family portrait."

I looked at Simon, then back at the screen. It wasn't another dress order. It was a diagram.

FORMAL FAMILY PORTRAIT, it read at the top. Every family member's name arranged into rows. Beside several women's names, handwritten notes: JACKET CLOSED. KEEP SEATED. TURN LEFT. SLEEVES DOWN.

Then I found mine.

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JENNIFER — BACK EDGE. SIMON FRONT.

I stared at the screen. Suddenly everything made sense. Camille hadn't simply wanted me to lose weight. She'd prepared a backup plan in case I didn't. Hide me at the edge. Put Simon in front. Make me less visible.