Those eyes of hers narrowed in that way that called bullshit. “Don’t forget to have Sal make you dinner before you leave.” Warmth spread through me at that. As rough around the edges as Betsy could be, she cared. She was probably the only person in my life who did. She made sure I always had at least one good meal on the days I worked. She’d make excuses of buying too much of this or that and gave me the “extras”. And every Christmas and birthday, there was always something from her, the only thing I’d unwrap on those days. “I will. Thanks, B.”
