Mom yammered on and on about how she was sorry we couldn’t afford that dress. She said she would try to make it. A few days later, when Marg and I got home from school, the dress was hanging up in our room. Spotting it felt like that moment in Cinderella, after her dress is ripped apart by her stepsisters and she opens her armoire to find that pretty gown stitched for her by friendly mice and birds.
