I stand outside the storefront of Aunt Vonda's flower shop, bouncing in my toes, my sandals a little too tall for the motion, making me wobbly. I managed to run home for five minutes on my break-at Aunt Vonda's insistence-and pull a dress out of my closet, a pair of heels. I didn't have time to do much with my hair, but a bit of mascara and lipstick and I'm good to go.

I even raced through the cleanup of the shop at the end of my shift, not wanting to leave it for Aunt Vonda. ...