I’d stayed home with Emma for years.
School runs, sick days, summers, everything.
It had been our arrangement, and Zach was the one who suggested it.
Now he talked about those years as though I’d simply refused to work.
So I returned to sewing. First alterations, then costume orders. The money was inconsistent, but it was something I could build.
A few weeks before Halloween, I’d called Zach because Emma needed new shoes and some school supplies.
“You could never manage money without me, could you?” he’d said. “Figure it out yourself for once.”
I hadn’t asked again.
When Emma told me she wanted to be a princess for Halloween, she showed me a picture of a pale-blue dress with a full skirt.
“Do you think you could make something like this, Mom?”
“I can certainly try.”
I’d worked on paying customers’ orders during the day and Emma’s dress after she went to bed.
