I looked down at her thinning silver hair and tried to memorize the shape of her hands.
“I have plenty of time for resting later,” she continued. “Right now, I have a granddaughter to dress for prom.”
“Grandma, you should be resting,”
I swallowed hard.
The word “later” hung between us, fragile and dangerous.
“You raised me, you know,” I said quietly. “Mom and Dad worked so much. It was always you.”
“It was always us.”
She rose slowly, gripping the edge of the table, and stepped back to look at me.
Her eyes filled with a kind of light I had never seen before.
The word “later” hung between us.
“Oh, my girl. Look at you.”
The dress was a deep, soft blue, with delicate stitching along the bodice and a skirt that fell just right.
It looked nothing like the sleek designer gowns the other girls were buying at the mall.
