“If we mess up with this lace,” Yocheved went on, “you know what a loss that will be. You don’t want that to come off your pay, do you?”
he sewing room bustled with activity and noise. The radio blared, sewing machines rumbled, people shouted. I was skimming the schedule to plan the next few hours when Yocheved burst through the door. “Yelena!”
No — not that voice. My head started spinning. She’d just arrived, what was her problem?
And then I remembered: Yocheved was flying to Belgium in a few hours. She was always a wreck before traveling.
I gritted my teeth as I stood up.
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