« I had a crazy idea. »
I stepped closer. « Open it. Let’s see what you have to work with. »
She looked at me. « What? »
« The bag. Open it. »
She took a breath, reached for the zipper, and pulled it down.
The uniform was neatly pressed, still clean. I put my arm around her shoulders and stared at it silently.
Wren touched the sleeve with two fingers.
« Well? Do you think it could work? »
« Open it. Let’s see what you have to work with. »
My late husband’s mother had taught Wren to sew when she was young. Wren still had her old sewing machine, and occasionally begged me for fabric to make her own clothes.
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