“Daed had lit the lamp in the kitchen so Mutter could see as she wrote out one of her lists. “Come help me with my oven mitts, Addie,” Aenti Nell called out from the sewing room. “You can do the price tags.” I left the door open behind me, but we moved our chairs to the far corner of the warm room. All the windows were open, in anticipation of the coming rain. The sky was entirely gray, but still no precipitation had fallen. Aenti Nell had changed back into a work dress and her kerch...ief. She handed me a stack of mitts, the price tags, and a ballpoint pen. “The usual?” I asked. She nodded. She sold them at a friend’s shop during the summer tourist months and had been charging seven dollars per oven mitt for as long as I could remember. As I worked, she leaned forward and spoke softly. “So, I talked to Old Man Mosier.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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