I tried to keep my voice bright.
“There’s one more place. The pretty one on Maple.”
“Mom.”
“Just one more, sweetheart.”
The boutique on Maple had a gown in the window I had already pictured on her. Ivory, soft, romantic. Hazel stood in front of the glass for a long moment, and then, in a voice I had not heard in a year, she asked, “Could I try the one in the window?”
The saleswoman gave her a slow once-over, mouth tightening at the corners.
“That’s not going to work for you, honey. You’re too big.”
That was all. No softening. No apology.
Hazel didn’t cry. She did not argue. She turned around, walked through the door, and got into the passenger seat of my car. I followed her, my hands shaking on the keys.
“Hazel, I am so sorry. I am going to go back in there and—”
