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I tried to keep my voice bright.
“There’s one more place. The pretty one on Maple.”
“Mom.”
“Just one more, sweetheart.”
The saleswoman gave her a slow once-over, mouth tightening at the corners.
The old nickname almost slipped out, but I caught it before it could wound her. That word belonged to Mason. Only Mason.
The boutique on Maple had a gown in the window I had already pictured on her. Ivory, soft, romantic. Hazel stood in front of the glass for a long moment, and then, in a voice I had not heard in a year, she asked, “Could I try the one in the window?”
The saleswoman gave her a slow once-over, mouth tightening at the corners.
“That’s not going to work for you, honey. You’re too big.”
That was all. No softening. No apology.
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