“Well, I couldn’t exactly tell my little girl we were broke.”
I embraced her before heading out.
An hour afterward, while reaching for milk, I heard an elderly woman pleading.
“Please. I only need one.”
At the refrigerated aisle’s end, a woman wearing expensive heels and a camel-colored coat was stacking discounted turkeys in her shopping cart.
She’d taken all twelve, each priced at $9.99.
I immediately recognized Beatrice, whose wealthy family owned apartment complexes, car dealerships, and a magnificent mansion outside town.
Beside her stood a frail elderly woman wearing a faded blue coat.
Remembering Mom’s empty shopping bags years earlier, I couldn’t ignore what was unfolding.
“My grandson has the flu,” she explained. “I raise him alone. I wanted to make soup.”
