« We are customers. »
The man’s name tag identified him as the store manager.
His eyes moved over Isabella’s plain gray sweatshirt, then to my old winter coat.
After that, he glanced toward a sharply dressed couple examining an expensive bedroom set nearby.
« They’re considering the entire collection, » he said.
Isabella rested one hand against the underside of her stomach.
« I just need five minutes. »
The manager sighed as though she had asked him to rearrange the showroom.
« Customers come first. »
My daughter lowered her eyes.
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