Tom Hanover liked kids. He even liked the ones that had given him that nickname. How could he explain to youngsters that it was just another kid who had robbed him and that the thief had been more scared than the man he had robbed?
Tom had seen too many kids killed and most of them no older than that boy, eighteen or nineteen. The boy's hands had shook so much he had barely been able to hold the twelve dollars that Tom gave him from the till.
"That sure is a pretty dress, Sarah Jane." "Your Mama make that dress?"
"No, Sir. Mama Hetti did."
"Oh, Mama Hetti. Well, it sure is right pretty."
Sarah Jane's grandmother Hetti Sanford, had lived in Logan County, Kentucky her entire life. Since Sarah Jane's first words though, she was called Mama Hetti by most everyone - including a few people many years her senior.
She had the respect of everyone who knew her, including Tom Hanover.
Sarah Jane looked down at her dress and smoothed her skirt, ladylike - then took a straw from the straw holder by the window and put it into the thick, sweet liquid.
(To be continued).
YOU ARE READING
Sarah Jane - @Short StoryGeneral Fiction
@SHORTSTORY: Nostalgia- Coming of Age - Listed an "Undiscovered Gem" by WP, I hope those who've yet to discover Sarah Jane will seek her out, & for those who have loved her from the beginning, my heartfelt thanks for your re-visits.