Read A Dress to Die For for Free Online

townhouse was thick with stale air, as if people didn’t live in it most of the year. That may have been true, as he was rarely in town. He didn’t curate more often than every other year, but when he did, he always had the rarest artifacts, the most precious art, or the biggest find.
    He’d approached Barry about putting the show together about the same time as Gracie’s death. Jeremy hadn’t gotten on board until the Brunican gown entered the picture. Bernard had explained the demands to him and Laura. The location of the dress had been a closely guarded secret. It was to be moved on the form it came on and never taken off. The garment was to be moved out of the museum in the same way. The interior of the dress could not be touched. There was to be no deviation whatsoever.
    Laura had met Bernard to review the dresses for the show, more as a novelty-seeker than decision-maker. They’d spoken at length about why Mom’s work on the Barbara Bush suit was so much different from the blue Tollridge & Cherry dress. He’d been slated to meet Mom but had begged off, claiming illness, though he made sure she had a ticket for the opening.
    The Brunico Saffron gown didn’t show up until two weeks before the show. A find. A miracle. Another rabbit out of a hat for Bernard Nestor. They had it validated by Lloyd’s in a big hurry, and the cost of bonding the show had skyrocketed.
    His house was decked out in dark woods, with frescoes on the dining room walls and marble patterns on the floors. They met him in the library, which Laura thought was too busy, with too many hardcover books and patterns on the rugs, walls, and furniture. The room looked like a library was supposed to look, without actually being a comfortable place to read a book.
    Bernard gave Laura a perfunctory hug. “Good to see you again. It’s been a harrowing couple of days.” He shook his head as if mourning the loss of a neighbor. He turned to Mom, “You must be Mrs. Carnegie? You worked on the dress when it was made?” He offered her his hand.
    “Yes.” Mom shook his hand.
    Bernard, who had dealt with hundreds of people of all stripes, seemed unable to stop looking at Mom. Laura shifted in her seat, but no one else seemed to notice.
    “The show looked beautiful.” Laura wondered if she should have stuck in a “fabulous” or an “amazing” but decided against it. He was not a fabulous/amazing kind of guy. Or more succinctly, if he said “fabulous” or “amazing” in his life, he’d mean it, and the rest of the art world would know it.
    “Thank you, Miss Carnegie. I hope to curate a show of your work one day.”
    Laura stifled a nervous giggle because her mind fired a hundred deliciously gratifying scenarios whereby that would occur, all of which were about as likely as her receiving an Oscar. “We missed you last night,” Laura said.
    “I wasn’t feeling well enough to go. Once the setup was complete, my work was done anyway. Of course, after what happened, I wish I hadn’t stayed home. I’m managing a lot of angry people.” His accent was untraceable. It was definitely there, but Laura could never place it, and Nestor was always cagey about its origin.
    “I can imagine,” Mom said. “That dress was the draw for the whole show.”
    Bernard smirked. Laura could see the implication that the rest of the show wasn’t worthwhile, but she knew Mom well enough to know that wasn’t what she’d meant.
    “You know,” Mom said, “I knew it was fake the minute I saw the button. And then when I pulled it open—”
    “I was curious about that,” Bernard said. “The monarchy of Brunico saw it as an offense for anyone to touch what touched the princess’s skin, so no one outside the court ever fit her clothing properly on her, and no one was ever allowed to sew interior constructions.” He pursed his lips. He was trying to corner Mom. Laura wanted to unleash a verbal smack-down. Her mother wasn’t his to corner.
    But Mom didn’t appear