Rachel nodded.
“My boys were upset, too. Sarah drove them to school for nineteen days when I broke my ankle. She never once complained about their muddy shoes, their backpacks, or the fact that one of them spilled an entire bottle of juice in her back seat.”
“I cleaned it up,” I said weakly.
Rachel gave me a look.
“That’s not the point.”
She turned toward Vanessa.
“The point is that Sarah has helped this neighborhood for years. She has never treated anybody like a burden. And yesterday, you treated her little girl like one.”
Vanessa’s face reddened.
“This is completely blown out of proportion. It’s a car, for heaven’s sake!”
“Exactly,” Greg said. “It’s a car.”
Vanessa looked at him.
“You don’t understand how much this vehicle cost.”
“No,” he replied. “But I understand how much it costs to raise a child who thinks she’s not worth helping because her shoes are wet.”
