April jiggled the key in the old lock on the storefront door, trying to avoid getting years of grime on her new white shirt. “Come on, open.” The unusually muggy afternoon wasn’t helping her frustration.
This morning, she put on a new pair of jeans she bought at Beach Babes, pairing it with what Babe called the perfect white shirt. With her wedge shoes and a new pair of vintage 1950s Trifari earrings she’d found at a yard sale, she felt very put together.
Yesterday, she visited the Miller family, and they gave her the key to the building their grandmother had, along with local historical projects Ruth had identified—many of which April knew about. She was thankful that Ruth had negotiated with the city for the right to use this space to house a historical society before she passed away.
