“Is that the gift? A blanket?”
My chin trembled.
“Sewed it by hand, dear. Every stitch. Started the day you told me it was a girl.”
A long breath left him through his nose, the kind he used to make as a teenager when the trash needed taking out.
“Told you on the phone. Told you what kind of weekend this was going to be.” His voice rose. “Olivia’s mother bought us a designer stroller. Her father gave Phoebe a gold necklace for her future. Her sister handed us an envelope with three thousand dollars in it.”
“I’m not even letting you inside, Mom.”
“Son, I…”
“Three thousand dollars, Mom. And her mother has been asking all day when my mother is going to arrive. She’s been waiting to see you.”
My voice came out small. “You know there isn’t that kind of money. Just the pension. The extra shifts paid for the plane ticket. Please don’t be upset.”
