I nodded then stepped into her closet. I felt as though I was surrounded by her, her clothes, her fragrances. I drew my hand across the row of dresses, lifting one or two out to remind myself of what they were like. I stopped at a favourite of hers - and mine. It was by a French designer, very chic. She always looked like a million dollars in it. It was a cocktail dress, white with black polka-dots, button-front with a low scooped neckline. I picked a pair of black high-heeled pumps from the rack and held the dress and shoes up for her to see. She grinned and nodded. .....