Noah looked at her.
She continued, “If you’re going to save that hard, buy something for yourself. Lucy won’t know the difference.”
“She probably doesn’t even understand what a birthday is.”
Noah spoke softly, without a single tremor.
“She understands when someone’s nice to her, Grandma.”
My MIL gaped like a landed fish, completely drained of arguments.
Cyril had just entered from the garage and had heard enough.
“Mom.”
“She understands when someone’s nice to her, Grandma.”
She lifted both hands.
“Oh, don’t make this into something ugly. I’m being practical.”
Cyril walked straight to Noah.
He crouched beside him and touched the plastic covering the dress.
“Good color, buddy. Lucy’s going to spin in it.”
Noah nodded.
“Good color, buddy. Lucy’s going to spin in it.”
My MIL sighed.
“You people hear what you want.”
I looked toward the door.
“I think we’re done for tonight.”
She stared at me.
Then at Cyril.
“You want me to leave over a dress?”
“You people hear what you want.”
“No,” I said. “I want you to leave because my eight-year-old understands kindness better than you apparently do tonight.”
That ended the conversation.
***
The next afternoon, Hannah held the tiniest birthday party I had ever attended.
There were seven of us, a grocery-store cake, and six balloons.
“My eight-year-old understands kindness better than you.”
Noah arrived carrying the red dress in both hands.
“This is for Lucy.”
Hannah blinked. “For her?”
“Open it.”
When she did, she immediately looked at me.
“Adele, this is too much.”
“Noah bought it.”
My son corrected me.
“I earned most of it.”
“This is for Lucy.”
I raised an eyebrow.
He added quickly, “And I won’t skip lunch again.”
Cyril coughed to hide a laugh.
Hannah knelt in front of him.
“You bought this for her?”
Noah gave a single, firm dip of his chin.
Hannah smiled. “I think she’ll like it.”
“I won’t skip lunch again.”
***
Twenty minutes later, Hannah brought Lucy outside wearing the red dress.
Noah had been right.
