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CHAPTER 1

CHARLOTTE

I wouldn’t have been caught dead in here a year ago Don’t take that the wrong way—I’ the racks at the secondhand store And that was back when secondhand was called Goodwill, and the stores were predohborhoods These days, used is called vintage and sold on the Upper East Side for a small fortune

I sported “gently worn” before the gentrification of Brooklyn

Secondhand was notdresses was the stories I iined they carried with them

Why are they here?

I pulled a Vera Wang sweetheart ball goith a crisscross bodice and cascading tulle skirt from the rack Fairy-tale expectations Divorced after six months, I decided A delicate lace Monique Lhuillier room died in a horrific car accident The devastated bride-to-never-be donated it to the church for its annual tag sale A savvy shopper picked it up for a steal and tripled the return on her invest it

Every used dress had a story, andson of a bitch rack I sighed and returned to the to at the front desk in Russian

“It’s from next year’s collection, yes?” the taller woman with bizarre, unevenly drawn eyebrows asked

I tried not to stare at the collection”

The woh I’d told theo when I walked in that the dress was froet an idea of the designer’s original prices

“I don’t think you’ll find it in there yet My future mother-in-law—” I corrected myself “My ex–future ”

The wo

Okay, then “I guess you need more time,” I mumbled