Nineteen
Ruthie cornered her mother at her loom, where she was weaving shawls for the state fair. The angora and wool shawls, each with its own unique mix of colors, were her best-selling creations—the only ones that consistently made money. In two weeks at the fair, she could earn enough to carry the family during the long stretches between her father’s sculpture sales.
“We have to talk, Mama,” Ruthie said in her firmest voice. She’d developed that voice while working with her elderly home care clients, but her mother had never heard it. She jumped and dropped the shuttle on the floor.
“Darling, you startled me. Can you pick that up for me?”
Ruthie bent to do her mother’s bidding. Magically, just like that, she felt like she was a child again.
She shook it off. Not a child, she remin
