An Eleven-Month Paper Trail Revealed Where Eighteen Thousand Dollars Had Really Gone
“There,” Ben said quietly.
“That’ll get me through Monday’s running trials.”
Daisy set her wooden picking basket on the floor, reached into her apron pocket, and pulled out four worn one-dollar bills.
“You can have my sweet corn tip money from yesterday, Ben.”
“Keep your corn money, Daisy,” Ben said, pressing the edge of the tape down with his thumb.
“I can run just fine in these.”
At four o’clock, I met my mother, Grace, in the gravel parking lot behind the Oakhaven Hardware store.
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