The following Saturday, I was still feeling light-headed, but the mood at work was stressful. Betsy's car was broken into and the police had spoken to all of us before writing their report and leaving. Betsy was too upset to continue working, so Mom sent her home.
Sitting in the break room, I tried to recreate swinging with Tyler in the hammock. I sighed out loud. I stared at my sandwich and shook my head. My heart was still racing. Why was there suddenly so much drama?
Mom, as usual, was back to juggling life and work under a mask of grace and ease, albeit with a painful smile on her face. I might have been counting the days till I could leave home, which seemed so far away, but I settled for counting the days until I could go back to school, where I could escape from the quilt shop drama for one more year.
Mom popped her head around the corner, "When you're done hiding, I've got some stuff for you to do."
"I am not hiding. I was just trying to catch my breath for a second."
Mom tilted her head sideways, "This was not a big deal. Betsy is fine, her car is fine, and she is home resting. She will be back at work Monday. You are making this a big deal."
"Got it."
"Good. Now get."
"I just don't understand why people do what they do?"
"Why do any of us do what we do? The thief thought that Betsy had more than she did in her ashtray and decided to take it."
"I know, but to break a car window right in front of the store for a dollar!"
"I know. Betsy said next time she will just leave the dollar on the windshield for them so she doesn't have to go through the trouble of fixing her window and calling her insurance company."