Late June was the county fair.

And Margaret Henderson worked every single one of them until she was seventy-four years old.

“She’d finish a shift,” Deloris said, “and put the cash in an envelope, and go.”

I asked what the money was for.

And Deloris Pfaff said: “She never said.

Thirty years and she never once said, and I asked her twice.”

The four-month gap in 2008 is the autumn my grandfather’s furnace failed and she had it replaced.

The ninety dollars in February 2009 is her catching up.