Melanie went back to her sorting. Several of the e-mails were overlaps with the letters. She checked the dates; frustrated by no response to their electronic messages, they had gone to paper-based pleas. But for the most part, there were at least as many new opportunities here as in the folder. If only twenty percent of these came through, Perrin’s business wasn’t going to grow, it was going to skyrocket upward. Whereas her own was…
Melanie clambered off the stool and to her feet. She looked for somewhere else to sit, but realized she didn’t want to sit. She didn’t want to sew. She saw Perrin—still glowing from the compliment to her new daughter—leaning in to explain a particularly tricky pattern piece to Karissa and Clem.
The soft-rap tune on the radio was getting on her nerves; somethi
