Dior or Die (Joanna Hayworth Vintage Clothing Mysteries Book 2) by Angela M. Sanders Read Free Book Online

finished.
    "And what would happen to you, to the sisters?" Apple asked.
    "I'm afraid we'd have to split up. The convent would dissolve."
    The women sat in silence for a moment as a clock ticked in the background.
    "So you understand why Vivienne—God rest her soul—Vivienne's estate is so important to us."
    Joanna glanced through the living room. The place did need a lot of work, and that was just the part she saw. It hardly seemed fair, though, that a group of harmless nuns could be kicked out of their home. And no dice on Vivienne's clothes. Where was she going to find five more dresses?  
    The nun in the armchair heaved her body forward, reached under her chair, and withdrew a silver laptop. Without speaking, she settled between Apple and Joanna on the couch. Apple grabbed an armrest as the sofa's springs caved. The nun opened the computer on the coffee table in front of them.  
    "Pride goeth before a fall, Sister Mary Alberta."
    "Yes, Sister Mary Frances. But these ladies are vintage clothing professionals. Maybe they'll have some ideas to help us."  
    Mary Carmen, Mary Frances, Mary Louise, and now Mary Alberta. "Are you all named Mary?" Joanna asked.
    Mary Frances raised her eyebrows. "Of course."
    The laptop whirred to life. Mary Alberta's thick fingers typed a few keys, and a pink tableau filled the screen. "Sisters Vintage" it said in gothic letters next to an image of a church. "It's not live yet, but here's what I have so far."
    "Nice," Apple said. "Wait—is that part of Saint Philip Neri?"
    "We clean the rectory for the priests. We were sure they wouldn't mind if we took a few photos while they were at mass."
    Mary Alberta pressed "enter" and the screen broke into squares. Hovering the mouse over one square filled the screen with a young blonde wearing a slender navy cocktail dress and leaning against a stone fireplace with a crucifix mounted over it.
    "Is that a Givenchy?" Joanna asked.
    "Dan Millstein copy from Boston," Mary Alberta answered promptly. She moved the mouse, and a handful of other items, all worn by the blonde in different poses in the rectory, popped forward. "What do you think?"
    "Impressive." The clothes weren't as valuable as those Vivienne put up for auction, but they would thrill any vintage clothing collector. And they’d be perfect for the NAP auction. Joanna looked at Mary Alberta with fresh respect. She only wished her own website were as nice, especially for all the money she'd already laid out for it. Her heart dropped as she thought of the bill at home. "I wouldn't change much. It might be useful to have photos of the labels for collectors, but, really, the site looks great and things seem priced fairly."
    "Sister Mary Alberta did all the design herself, including the styling," Mary Carmen said. "And the model is Sister Mary Louise's niece."
    "We only have a dozen items for sale, but we wanted to do it up right, you know? Attract a higher level of clientele."
    Mary Frances rose. "I'm sorry we can't help you. I wish you the best of luck with the fundraiser."
    A sharp rap on the ceiling drew their attention. The Sisters Mary exchanged glances. The rapping started again. "Just a moment, Mother," Mary Frances said in a singsong voice, looking toward the second floor.
    "The Exalted Mother. She's bedridden, unfortunately," Mary Carmen said. "Can’t come down."
    "Who's there?" a gruff voice yelled from upstairs. "Bring them up."
    Mary Frances looked alarmed. "But Mother—"
    "Bring them up, I said."
    Apple kicked Joanna’s foot, and she flashed her a glance. There was no way Joanna was going to miss this. "We'd love to meet the Mother if she's up to receiving guests."
    "This is highly unusual—"
    "And be quick about it," shouted the nun from upstairs.
    "This way." Mary Frances sighed and led Joanna and Apple back to the entry hall and up the stairs. If anything, the second floor was more dingy than the first. Strips of paint had bubbled yellow from the ceiling. A water mark stained