Mrs. Feeney’s dress shop on Alden Street had the misfortune to be situated directly above a bakery. Perhaps the alterations that ensued after the ladies indulged in such treats provided a boon to the dressmaker. It required a stern effort of will for Concordia to pass by the delectable odors of gingerbread, cinnamon scones, and lemon curd tarts, her favorite. Her stomach rumbled.
Mrs. Wells and Sophia Capshaw waited inside. The shop had the smell of new lumber shelving and flooring. A wide, brightly lit countertop spanned nearly the width of the back wall. Racks lined both sides of the shop, stretching from chair rail to head height, though they were not even half-full with fabric. Mrs. Feeney apparently had an eye for future inventory and brisk business.
Sophia extended her hands in gr
