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Gently, I raised one of the wings to see the stitching that held it in place.
The single stich was so delicate, I was amazed it was enough to hold the
butterfly in place. My father had worked magic.
“I wore it for my tenth wedding anniversary party.”
“It’s gorgeous.” I peeked under the top edge to admire the way it was
finished.
“It is.”
“Thank you for showing it to me,” I said as if I was done looking at it,
but I could have inspected Basile Papillion’s genius for hours.
Doreen went behind the mannequin and unfastened the back to reveal
the deep pink lining and a label inside, next to the one that said Papillion,
where custom gowns were tagged with the owner’s name.
NORA WARREN
“My husband’s idea, putting my pen name there. He calls it my true
identity. Our secret.” She closed the back. “Now it’s yours too. And I want
you to remember it when being a Crowne feels like all you are.”
“I—” I stopped in the middle of saying something irrelevant. I wasn’t
taking Logan’s name, but her point wasn’t about what I let the world call
me. It was about what I called myself.
Why was she telling me this at all?
Doreen Crowne couldn’t care about me. She didn’t even know me. She
didn’t have to trust me with anything, and the truth was, she shouldn’t trust
me as far as she could throw me. I was an interloper. A liar in their midst.
Any reasonable woman would have barely acknowledged me. But Doreen
wasn’t reasonable. She loved her son recklessly enough to trust his
judgment over her own instincts.
Her love was directed at Logan, but I got to warm myself by a heat I
hadn’t felt since the day my mother died.
“Thank you,” I said. “I’m honored to keep your secret.”
“Good,” she said, heading for the door. “I’d better get you back before
Logan starts wondering if I got you lost.”
I guided us back to the center of the house without making a wrong
turn. The instinctual part of my brain was free to work navigational magic
while the rest of my mind tried to figure out a way to earn her confidence in
me.
Logan stood with his father at the edge of the overlook, hair turned
angular in the wind. When he saw us, he waved. Ted came to us with arms