Twenty minutes later, two police officers entered the dining room.

By then, almost every guest had given up pretending they weren’t watching.

Clara immediately approached them.

“She’s trying to remove property I paid for.”

One officer looked toward the boutique coordinator.

“Ma’am?”

The woman handed him a folder.

While the officers reviewed the paperwork, Simon came over to me.

“Jen.”

“What is happening?”

He glanced toward his mother.

“The manager called the police because Mom refused to let the boutique take the dresses.”

“Because of the dresses?”

“Yes. But there’s something else.”

Before he could explain, one of the officers looked across the room.

“Is Jennifer here?”

Every head turned.

I stepped forward.

“That’s me.”

The officer gave me a reassuring expression.

“You’re not in any trouble.”

Clara started to speak.

He lifted one hand.

“Ma’am, please.”

Then he turned back to me.

“We were called regarding a dispute involving several garments from tonight’s event. The vendor has provided documentation showing that the disputed clothing still belongs to the boutique.”

I looked at Clara.

“You’re fighting over dresses that aren’t even yours?”

“They were paid for!”

The officer corrected her.

“Deposits were paid. That does not establish ownership.”

Clara’s face went bright red.

The boutique coordinator added,

“Several garments were also never accepted by the women they were ordered for.”

I immediately thought about the conversation I had overheard in the restroom.

Then Simon touched my elbow.

“Jen, come with me.”

He led me toward the coatroom.

The boutique coordinator followed us carrying a tablet.

Clara started after us.

Dave stopped her.

“Let them go.”

The coordinator opened an order record.

My name appeared at the top.

Jennifer.

Below it was my actual current dress size.

Then underneath was a later modification.

Four sizes smaller.

Authorized by Clara.

My stomach tightened.

Then I saw the typed instruction beside it.

DO NOT SUBSTITUTE LARGER.

I read it twice.

Simon spoke quietly.

“I called the boutique two days ago because I wanted to exchange your dress.”

I turned toward him.

“You did?”

“Yes.”

The coordinator scrolled farther down.

“There’s something else you should probably see.”

She opened another file Clara 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.

At the top were the words:

FORMAL FAMILY PORTRAIT.

Every family member’s name had been arranged into rows.

Beside several women’s names were handwritten notes.

JACKET CLOSED.

KEEP SEATED.

TURN LEFT.

SLEEVES DOWN.

Then I found mine.

JENNIFER — BACK EDGE. SIMON FRONT.

I stared at the screen.

Suddenly, everything made sense.

Clara hadn’t simply wanted me to lose weight.

She had prepared a backup plan in case I didn’t.

Hide me at the edge.

Put Simon in front.

Make me less visible.

Behind us, Clara’s voice cut through the hallway.

“What exactly are you showing her?”

Simon turned.

Clara stood there with Dave behind her.

Her face was still flushed from the argument with the police.

But now she looked angry.

Simon glanced once more at the screen.

Then at his mother.

“Mom…”

His voice was quiet.