I Donated My Late Daughter’s Prom Dress 20 Years Ago—Last Week, Someone Knocked on My Door Wearing It

this.”

Hearing my daughter’s name in a stranger’s mouth felt like a hand closing around my throat.

“Did you read it?”

“The first page.”

“You had no right.”

“I know.”

No excuse. No defense.

“You had no right.”

That made it harder to stay angry.

Madeline stepped back.

“I stopped when I understood what it was. Your address was on the envelope. I didn’t know whether continue reading …