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“Grandma sent it,” Mary said softly. “Said you might need it soon.”

Missy lifted her chin. “Obviously.”

“Satrip,” Sheldon muttered to himself. “If only Persia had had better auditors.”

Sheldon stared at her like she’d suggested he join a traveling circus. “A good sport,” he repeated. “Mother, Persia fell to Alexander the Great due to poor leadership. I will not be the Xerxes of the seventh grade.” Across town, the Medford Police Department’s newest unofficial headache was brewing. Georgie Cooper, now a young father and tire salesman, had discovered an unexpected talent: creative accounting.

Mary pulled her into a hug. “Honey, you didn’t steal them. You just borrowed them without asking. Which is still stealing. But I forgive you.” She paused. “Also, Heather Masterson is a menace, and you’re perfect exactly as you are.”

“Welcome to politics, honey,” Meemaw laughed. “Now listen—your brother’s about to do something real stupid. Keep an eye on him.”

The next morning, she wore two shirts and a very determined expression. At school, Heather noticed. “New bra?” she asked.

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