“I bought you something,” she says with a grin. “I hope you don’t mind. I just saw it in the store and thought, ‘Olivia would look gorgeous in that.’” “You shouldn’t have.” They’re nearly as strapped for cash as I am. She shrugs. “I always wanted a little girl to dress up.” “You could probably still have a girl,” I reply. Maybe it’s just good genes, but Dorothy looks young. Too young to have grown sons, actually. She smiles at me. “Shop’s closed. And besides, I have you now, don’t I?” My eyes sting. I’m glad she’s already turned away so she can’t see it.
