“I try to do the morning runs when I can,” I said, feeling a familiar tightness behind my collarbone as I adjusted my purse strap.
“Of course,” Mabel said, handing me a bright pink flyer printed on heavy cardstock. “We are sending these home early this year so everyone can coordinate.”
I looked down at the bold black lettering at the top: Mother-Daughter Breakfast, December Twelfth.
“It is always a lovely turnout,” Mabel added, adjusting her glasses. “Last year we had to set up extra tables in the gymnasium.”
“I will put it on my calendar,” I said, folding the pink paper in half.
“Oh, Sarah already mentioned she was looking forward to helping with the juice station,” Mabel said, her smile polite and warm.
I kept my hand still inside my coat pocket, my thumb tracing the sharp fold of the flyer.
“Sarah mentioned that?” I asked.
“She is very hands-on,” Mabel said, nodding toward the lobby where the children were lining up. “It is wonderful when the whole family stays so involved in the classroom.”
