Eventually, Chloe had left.
She told everyone the hours were inconvenient.
Now she held the shears as though they belonged to another woman.
Sarah watched her.
“Mrs. Alvarez asked about you.”
Chloe looked up.
“She knows?”
“She knows you’ve had a difficult time. I didn’t tell her anything you didn’t agree to.”
“What did she say?”
“That the machine by the window still pulls left.”
Despite herself, Chloe smiled.
“It always did.”
“She said you knew how to work around it.”
Chloe looked down at the shears.
The following week, she called the shop.
She worked two mornings.
Then three.
On the first day, Mrs. Alvarez showed her the new order book and asked whether she wanted tea.
She did not demand the story.
Chloe nearly cried with gratitude over a box of loose zippers.
Lorenzo sent one message through her attorney asking whether she would accept repayment for clothing damaged when she arrived at the lounge.
Chloe read it twice.
Then wrote back that she did not know which clothes he meant.
The raincoat?
The blouse?
The things Aaron had ruined long before she reached the service door?
She put down the phone.
The answer that came later was short.
I meant the clothes damaged at the lounge. I should have been clearer. You don’t need to reply.
She did not.
A month later, she asked Sarah how he was.
Sarah hesitated.
“Do you want the polite answer?”
“No.”
“He’s having a difficult time discovering that everyone can’t be hurried.”
Chloe almost smiled.
“Good.”
Sarah looked at her.
“I don’t mean I want him hurt.”
“I know.”
Chloe considered.
“I want him to understand waiting without deciding somebody else is responsible for making it stop.”
Sarah nodded.
“That seems fair.”
The first time Chloe saw Aaron again, it was at a hearing.
Her attorney prepared her.
Sarah came.
Miriam sat nearby.
Aaron entered wearing a suit Chloe had once altered.
She recognized the work before she looked at his face.
