During a January thaw, water trickled from a burst pipe down an interior wall, into a basement storage closet, and ruined all of Dora’s wedding dresses. There was the perfect knee-length dress with transparent sleeves sewed from a Vogue pattern. There was the ecru ribbon skirt and shawl trimmed with appliqué flowers from Dora’s guess-again marriage—to a traditional man who played moccasin games. Then there was her green brocade dress with a beaded belt of indigo swallows. That marriage had not been legally recognized, but she counted it. And at last a heavy white satin dress with forty covered buttons up the back, a kick train, and a bodice trimmed with swirling sea creatures beaded of tiny pearls. This was from a vintage store and cost six hundred dollars, a purchase Dora had pondered for quite a while.…