“No. Never because of you.” I sat so we were eye level. “I noticed you hesitating around food, and I should have done more sooner. That’s on me.”
Liz nodded without looking up.
Then her eyes landed on the yellow tape measure Jenna had left on the end table.
“I should have done more sooner. That’s on me.”
I reached for it, ready to throw it away, but Liz got there first.
She turned it over in her hands and ran her thumb along the faded inch marks.
“This was Mom’s,” she said.
I stared at her. “What?”
“It’s from her sewing box. See? The end is chewed up.” She held up the bent metal tip. “She chewed on it when she was thinking. She used it to hem my Halloween costumes. And that dress with the stars.”
“This was Mom’s,”
I hadn’t known Jenna had taken it from Claire’s things. I’d never looked inside that sewing box after the funeral. I couldn’t.
Liz wound the tape back up slowly, in careful loops the way Claire used to.
Then she walked to the corner, opened the wooden sewing box, and set it among the thread and buttons.
She closed the lid.
