Paige folded her arms.

“First my engagement ring. Now a family heirloom. How many coincidences are we supposed to believe?”

Caroline held the brooch carefully.

“Delia, I need you to explain this.”

“I can’t. I didn’t take it.”

Paige stepped forward.

“Then maybe the police can explain it to you.”

Caroline reached for her phone.

Before she could make the call, the Whitmores’ longtime house manager, Mr. Harris, appeared in the doorway.

“Mrs. Whitmore, your mother-in-law has asked that no one contact the police.”

Caroline frowned.

“My mother-in-law?”

“Yes, ma’am. She also said Miss Delia is to finish her work.”

Paige stared at him.

“Why would she say that?”

“I wasn’t given an explanation.”

I’d never met Julian’s grandmother inside the house.

I didn’t understand why she was defending me.

But Paige looked more furious than ever.

Later, as I packed my supplies, she passed behind me.

“Don’t think this is over,” she whispered.

I waited until she left before sitting down.

My hands were shaking.

For the first time since I’d entered the Whitmore estate, I wondered whether finishing the job was worth what Paige might do next.

PART 2 — THE WOMAN IN THE OLD COAT

The Broken Singer

I returned to my apartment that evening determined not to go back to the Whitmore estate.

My sewing room was small, but everything in it belonged to me.

The old Singer sat beneath the window. Beside it were my mother’s scissors, a jar of mismatched buttons, and a faded photograph of her teaching me to sew when I was twelve.

I made coffee and tried to decide how I would pay next month’s rent.

The following morning, someone knocked on my door.

It was the elderly woman from the boutique.

She was wearing the same beige coat and carrying her reusable grocery bag.

“I came to thank you properly,” she said.

I invited her inside.

She looked around the sewing room with interest.

“You’ve made a lovely place for yourself.”

“It’s small, but it works.”

She paused beside the Singer.

“That machine has seen a lot of years.”

“It belonged to my mother.”

I told her how Mom had taught me to repair clothes before I was old enough to reach the foot pedal comfortably.

The woman listened with a warmth I hadn’t felt from anyone in days.

We were drinking coffee when footsteps sounded outside.

Then Paige appeared in my doorway.

She looked around with a contemptuous smile.

“So this is where the famous seamstress works.”

I stood.

“You need to leave.”

“I just came to make sure you understood something.”

She walked toward my sewing table.

“You embarrassed me twice. You don’t get to do that and walk away.”

“I didn’t embarrass you. You accused me of things I didn’t do.”

Paige glanced at the Singer.

“Does this antique even work?”

“Don’t touch it.”

She shoved the edge of the table.

The machine tipped, struck the floor, and broke a metal component near the handwheel.

For a moment, I couldn’t move.

Then I knelt beside it.

“That was my mother’s.”

Paige looked down at the damage.

“Maybe you should’ve kept it somewhere safer.”

I stood.

“Get out.”

She stepped backward against the exposed edge of a metal shelf, then looked at a red scrape on her forearm.

Her expression changed.

“You just hurt me.”

I stared at her.

“You did that yourself.”

The elderly woman rose from her chair.

“Young lady, I saw what happened.”

Paige turned toward her.

“Oh, wonderful. The old woman from the boutique. Of course you’re here.”

She left before either of us could answer.

I sat beside the broken machine.

The older woman crouched carefully next to me.

“Can it be repaired?”

“I don’t know.”

She placed a hand on my shoulder.

“We’ll find someone who knows.”

I looked at her.

“Why are you being so kind to me?”

She glanced toward the wedding dress hanging near the window.

“Because you were kind to me when you thought I had nothing to offer you.”

The Accusation

Julian arrived that afternoon.

He stood in my doorway holding his phone, his expression grim.

“Paige says you hurt her with a pair of scissors.”

I stepped aside so he could see the sewing room.

The Singer was still on the floor.

“She broke my mother’s machine. Then she scraped her arm on that shelf and said I’d done it.”

Julian closed his eyes.

“I believe you.”

I stared at him.

“Why?”

“Because I’ve been paying attention.”

He explained that when the emerald brooch disappeared, Paige had directed Caroline to the exact side pocket of my sewing case before anyone searched it.

At the time, he’d assumed she’d seen something suspicious.

Now he wasn’t so sure.

“I should’ve questioned it,” he admitted.

“Yes, you should have.”

He nodded.

“You’re right.”

I wasn’t interested in making him feel better.

I was tired of people apologizing only after their silence had cost me something.

That evening, I went to the Whitmore estate to return the remaining alterations and explain that I couldn’t continue working there.

The family was having dinner.

Paige stood when she saw me.

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to return the dresses. I didn’t take the brooch, and I didn’t hurt you.”

She gave a sharp laugh.

“You’ve got some nerve showing up here after what you did.”

Julian rose from his chair.

“Paige, stop.”

“Don’t tell me to stop. She’s been causing trouble since the day we met.”

I set the garment bags on a chair.

“I won’t be coming back. That’s all I wanted to say.”

Paige moved toward me with her hand raised, but Julian stepped between us.

“Enough.”

Before anyone could speak again, the doorbell rang.

Two police officers were standing outside.

One of them asked for me by name.

Paige had filed a complaint alleging that I’d injured her.

The officer explained that they needed to speak with me about the report.

I looked at Julian.

He appeared furious.

“I’ll tell them what I know,” he said.

“Please do.”

I agreed to accompany the officers so the matter could be addressed.

As I walked outside, I glanced through the dining room window.

Paige was standing beside the table.

She was smiling.

The Woman Behind the Coat

I spent several hours at the police station answering questions.

I explained the argument, the broken machine, and the scrape on Paige’s arm.

I gave the officers Julian’s name and told them another woman had witnessed the incident.

They took my statement.

Near midnight, an officer returned.

“Miss Bennett, your witness has arrived. We’ve spoken with her, and you’re free to go.”

I stood, exhausted.

In the lobby, the elderly woman from the boutique was waiting.

But she wasn’t wearing her old beige coat.

She wore a beautifully tailored navy suit, pearl earrings, and polished shoes. A driver waited outside beside a black SUV.

I stopped.

“Who are you?”

She smiled.

“Adelaide Whitmore.”

I stared at her.

Julian’s grandmother.

The woman who owned the estate.

The woman whose family had hired me.

“You’re Mrs. Whitmore?”

“I am.”

I looked at her elegant clothes, then remembered the worn shoes and grocery bag.

“Why were you dressed like that?”

She gestured toward a bench.

“Sit with me for a moment.”

We sat.

Adelaide explained that Julian had been planning to marry Paige for nearly a year.

Around his family, Paige was charming, attentive, and endlessly polite. But Adelaide had heard troubling stories from employees and people who’d dealt with her outside the family’s social circle.

She wanted to see how Paige behaved when she thought nobody important was watching.

“So you went to the boutique,” I said.

“Yes.”

“With an old wedding dress?”

She nodded.

“It really was mine. The lace really needed repairing.”

I remembered the way Paige had laughed.

“You knew what she was like after that.”

“I knew she could be cruel. But I also knew Julian wouldn’t end his engagement because I told him his fiancée had been rude to a stranger.”

I looked down.

“So you let me keep getting hurt?”

Adelaide didn’t answer immediately.

“I should’ve stepped in sooner,” she admitted. “I thought I could make him see the truth without forcing the issue. I underestimated how far she’d go.”

Her honesty surprised me.

“Did you see her put the brooch in my bag?”

“No. I won’t pretend I did.”

“Then how can you help?”

“I saw what happened in your workshop. I can give an accurate statement about that. And Julian has started asking questions about the brooch.”