And everyone discussed her father as well.
He arrived early for every school function, frequently still dressed in his work clothes.
Carrying a compact folding mirror from his car, he would seat Goldie on a hallway bench and style her hair himself.
Quite skillfully, at that.
French braids adorned with ribbons.
Pins arranged with such precision they appeared professionally done.
By the moment the children stepped onto the stage, not a single stray strand remained loose.
The other mothers adored watching him in action.
“Just look at that dad,” someone would remark.
“My husband can’t even manage a basic ponytail.”Marriage
Continue on the next page:
