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enveloped her as she opened the doors. There, arranged by color and functionality, hung every article of clothing she’d failed to pack and take away with her. According to the dry cleaning tags on the garments, everything had been freshened recently. But why, when no one knew when she was coming home?
    Piper selected the least flippant items and pulled on a pair of charcoal gray trousers with a neat matching jacket that used to nip in perfectly at her waist. Eight years ago, it had been form-fitting enough to wear without a top beneath it, but it certainly wasn’t now. She flicked through the hangers until she found a crisp white blouse to team with it.
    An old belt threaded through the loops in her trousers cinched them in a little tighter at her waist, and when Piper pulled on the jacket and studied her appearance, she thought she’d scrubbed up quite well—aside from the hair. She grabbed a black and white long silk scarf from her dresser and tied her dreads into an approximation of a ponytail before nodding at her reflection. Well enough to see the lawyer, anyway.
    Her feet had always been long and narrow and she pulled on a pair of stocking socks before pushing her feet into a slim fitting pair of black patent pumps. No longer used to the heels, she teetered a little before regaining her composure.How had she ever walked in these things on a daily basis? she wondered as she made her way down the stairs.
    Wade wasn’t in the breakfast room, nor the kitchen, when she got downstairs.
    â€œLooking for Mr. Collins?” Mrs. Dexter said with a smile as she bustled about pouring a fresh cup of tea and placing it at Piper’s old place at the huge worn kitchen table.
    â€œYes, we have an appointment together this morning.”
    â€œHe had to get away early to the office. Some problem or other. He said if he couldn’t get back on time, he’d send a car for you so you could still meet with Mr. Chadwick in his rooms.”
    â€œOh, thanks.”
    Piper fought back the unreasonable feeling of disappointment that he wasn’t here. He had a business to run so she could hardly expect him to wait upon her hand and foot. Strangely, though, she had been looking forward to his approval that she’d made an effort to “scrub up,” for want of a better term. Which reminded her. Her clothes.
    â€œDexie, can you tell me what you did with my clothing from my backpack?”
    â€œOh, that lot.” Mrs. Dexter wrinkled up her nose in her rosy cheeked face. “I gave it all to Dexter to incinerate. Your father would never have stood for you dressing like that.”
    Piper bit back the retort that her father hadn’t had the right to dictate her appearance for many years now. Swallowing the words she’d wanted to say didn’t come easy. Those items of clothing were virtually all she’d had to her name in the way of physical possessions. She’d come back here to take control of her life and yet, even in something as simple as her clothing, she’d been railroaded.
    â€œBesides,” the older woman continued, “you have a wardrobe full of beautiful things to wear. I must say, lovey, it’s wonderful to see you looking more your old self. Apart from the hair, that is.”
    A wry smile formed at Piper’s lips. “You don’t like it?” she teased.
    â€œHumph, as if Mr. Mitchell would ever have tolerated such a thing.”
    Piper’s smile died on her face. No, her father wouldn’t have tolerated it. He wouldn’t have understood the sheer practicality of wearing her hair this way in the circumstances in which she’d lived. Now she was home she supposed she’d better do something about it, but first there was the appointment today to get through.
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    â€œGet through” being the operative words, she realized later that day as her father’s lawyer sat opposite her at his highly polished desk, a sobering