19
Cissy rushes through the opened door of her lavish bedroom, two huge garment bags gripped in her left hand. In her right, she holds a pair of boxes wrapped in string. “Our gowns are finally here!” She gently sets the packages onto her pink bedspread. “The Great Ladies dropped them off.”
I check my watch. Only a few hours to go before Lincoln’s farewell ball begins. Good thing I’m not one of those types who needs a million years to get ready. I glance at the gowns and frown. “That’s strange. You’d think they’d have something better to do.”
Cissy hangs the gowns side-by-side in her closet. Hers is green and black, mine’s red and gold. “How do you know? Maybe it’s an ancient thrax tradition.”
“Maybe.” With the thrax, you never know. I wouldn’t be shocked if they had a tradition for whi
