Blue Cotton Work Shirts Stitched Together for a Spring Dance
I turned to look at her, my hand resting on the green bodice of my dress. “The pawnshop was closed?” I asked.
“The man at the shop said the bill was already settled,” Clara said, her voice shaking slightly as she pulled the car out of the parking lot. “Principal Bradley went down there himself this afternoon.”
“He used the school’s community emergency fund to cover the roof repairs,” she continued, her eyes fixed on the dark road ahead. “He told the shop owner that Oakhaven could not afford to lose the only tailor who knew how to sew a proper seam.”
I looked out the window as we passed the dark houses of our neighborhood, the porch lights shining like small yellow stars. The streets were quiet, the town sleeping under the cool spring sky.
“Did he say why?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Clara kept her eyes on the road, her hands tight on the steering wheel. “He said your father never asked for a receipt, Nicole, so we are just paying back a long overdue debt.”
