Claire looked startled.
“I came to apologize.”
June waited.
Claire’s lips tightened.
Not in anger.
Nerves.
“I shouldn’t have said what I said about the quilt.”
“No.”
“I shouldn’t have called it flea-market.”
“No.”
“And I shouldn’t have said it was just a blanket.”
June nodded.
Claire looked frustrated.
“You’re making this hard.”
“I’m listening.”
Claire sat.
June sat across from her.
Claire took a breath.
“I don’t like handmade things.”
June almost laughed.
Claire held up a hand.
“I know how that sounds.”
“Very much like you.”
Claire nearly smiled.
“I grew up with handmade everything.”
June’s expression changed.
She knew Claire’s parents were from Kingston.
Middle-class now.
That was most of what she knew.
Claire stared at the coffee.
“My mother sewed because we couldn’t afford clothes from stores. My father repaired furniture people threw out.”
June listened.
“I spent years being embarrassed.”
Claire’s voice became quieter.
“Kids noticed.”
“What did they say?”
Claire shrugged.
“The usual things.”
June waited.
Claire looked up.
