The Mystery of the Uninvited Ghost

active part in the life of her neighborhood. She’d been involved in more than one of Trixie’s mysteries and had lent her furniture for the Bob-Whites’ antique show. Trixie didn’t hesitate to ask her for another favor.
    “Juliana had planned to be married in her best summer dress, but Miss Trask has invited so many people and made so many plans that we think Juliana should wear a real wedding dress.”
    Mrs. Vanderpoel’s eyes twinkled. “Let me guess: You thought of my attic?”
    “Right,” Honey agreed with a bright smile for this good friend.
    Mrs. Vanderpoel fluttered dimpled hands toward Hallie. Trixie said quickly, “My cousin Hallie.”
    “You’re Harold’s daughter! I should have recognized those long bones. You look like your father did when he was a teen-ager,” Mrs. Vanderpoel said. “Now, my attic.”
    “If you don’t mind, Mrs. Vanderpoel,” Brian said, “we fellows will show Hans your house.”
    “Make yourselves at home.”
    On the way up the stairs, Juliana explained, “Our wedding is being quickly arranged. As you know, Hans came in search for me while my memory was lost. His time off from work is almost used up. Any wedding plan must be kept very simple.”
    “I do wish you well, child,” Mrs. Vanderpoel said sincerely. She ushered the five girls into an attic that was as neat as most people’s living rooms, then led them to a huge cedar chest. When she lifted the chest lid, the smells of cedar and lavender ticlded their noses.
    For Trixie, the next hour was one of sheer delight. She was no fashion fanatic, but she loved beautiful fabrics. These dresses, folded away in tissue paper, were proof that women had lived and loved. Their lives were woven into the very fabric of the Hudson River valley. With Trixie, the rest of the girls exclaimed over silks, satins, taffetas, and laces. They measured dress after dress against Juliana’s tiny frame. The verdict was always the same—too big.
    While Juliana watched, Trixie, Honey, Di, and Hallie sashayed about in dresses, swished skirts, and dreamed dreams. Finally they rewrapped the gowns and repacked the chest.
    “I’m sorry, Juliana,” Trixie said. “I was sure—”
    “Don’t give up so easily,” Mrs. Vanderpoel advised. “You haven’t seen my own wedding dress.”
    She opened a small trunk and drew out still another tissue-wrapped package. When she shook out folds of sheer white cotton, Trixie knew the search was ended. This was Juliana’s wedding dress.
    Almost shyly, Trixie took the dress from Mrs. Van-derpoel’s hands and held it up by the shoulder seams. As if she were putting a dress on a paper doll, Trixie held it up against Juliana’s body. Of simple design, the handmade dress was trimmed with rows and rows of crocheted insertions in the sleeves and the skirt.
    “It won t have to be altered one stitch. It could have been made for you, Juliana,” Honey said softly.
    “I was married during the First World War,” Mrs. Vanderpoel explained. “I made my own dress while I waited for my soldier to come home from France.”
    “Even the lace?” Trixie asked, greatly impressed. “Every stitch.” Mrs. Vanderpoel unwrapped a wide-brimmed white leghorn hat wreathed with daisies. “I was married in the garden behind this house.”
    Trixie clasped her hands under her chin. “The garden at Manor House is so lovely. I can just see Juliana walking past all those flowers at the birdbath. We could all wear dresses like this—” She stopped abruptly. “Where would we find them?”
    Honey was practical. “We’d make them, of course.”
    “A garden wedding,” Juliana whispered. “I know Hans will agree to that!”

The Ring • 9

    TRIXIE WAS HAVING sudden second thoughts about her own agreement with this idea—she hated to sew. She asked Honey, “What do you mean, make them?” Honey spread the skirt of the white dress. “This isn’t as hard to do as it looks. The skirt is just a long wide strip sewed onto a band. The top is a simple bodice with long sleeves and a throatband instead of a collar. It’s the lace that makes it special. We needn’t use as much of that, and we’d certainly buy factory-made lace. We don’t want to outshine the bride.”
    “As if anyone could!” Di said.
    Honey’s blue eyes sparkled with interest. “We could use strips of lace for throatbands and put lace from the shoulder to the cuff of each sleeve.”
    “That sounds hard,” Trixie declared.
    “It isn't!” Hallie