Claire rubbed the worn cuff of her faded cardigan.

She felt the uneven yarn beneath her thumb and paused to breathe.

“I’m not here to beg for your money, Daniel,” Claire said.

Vanessa appeared from the second row, her black heels clicking sharply on the linoleum.

She smoothed her immaculate hair behind her ear and stepped directly between Claire and her husband.

“Daniel, why is she inside the hall?” Vanessa asked.

Vanessa turned her cold gaze on Claire, looking at her cheap shoes and the loose threads on her sweater.