“I saw.”
“My feet panicked.”
I almost laughed, but then I noticed his heavy breathing.
“You worked another double shift.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re rubbing your chest, Grandpa. This is too much for you.”
He lowered his hand.
“This is too much for you.”
***
That evening, I took his sales notebook, raised the prices, photographed the quilts, and suggested smaller designs that cost less to make.
“You’re taking over?”
“I’m helping.”
“Just like Hannah.”
Every detail about my mother still felt precious.
