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Size eight? Ha! She always told me she was a size six.
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We found the skeleton in her closet.
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Not quite, Gabrielle, not quite.
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- What's that? - A letter addressed to Mary Alice.
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How ironic.
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To have something I tried so desperately to keep secret,
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treated so casually.
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What are you doing? That's private.
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It's open. What's the big deal?
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What does this mean?
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I don't know. But check out the postmark.
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Oh, my god. She got it the day she died.