Mama had decided to start taking Layla to work a few days per week, and it wasn’t long before we started hearing stories about their adventures at the store.
Layla now was a very precocious 4-year-old and apparently all of Mama’s customers were making a fuss over her, so I wasn’t surprised to hear some of the tales about how Layla was winning them over. But after six months or so of the same accounts of people being so sweet around her, it was this one particular story that stood out.
There was a customer that Mama had mentioned in the past.
Her name was Ann. Ann was a beautiful woman in her late seventies who, according to Mama, had come into the shop every Saturday morning for the last twenty years. And every Saturday morning, like clockwork, Ann would buy two long-stemmed red roses.
She never said why and Mama never asked, but Mama did know the story of how her young husband and child had died in a car accident when Ann was very young, that Ann had never remarried and was always very sad and very quiet. Mama had told us the story about Ann long ago, one evening over dinner.