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I remember that coat so well. You can't tell from the picture, of course, but it was red. My mother bought it for me just before she got sick. I was seventeen that winter. Don't bother trying to do the math in your head, dear, that makes me 87 now. Those gloves were warm but I never cared for them half as much as the coat. I always wanted a pair of calfskin gloves, but it was the Depression then, you know, and we made the most of the things we had. Years later, when Bill opened the store in town, I bought a pair of calfskin gloves. They were so soft on the outside, and they looked lovely, but they weren't at all warm enough.
Bill and I met that winter. He was two years older than I was, and he was working for his Uncle Roland in the mill. I had stopped at the Woolworth's over on Mason Street to pick up some things to take to my mother in the hospital, and he was with that red-headed boy he used to pal around with. I think his name was Allen. He was one of those boys who looked at every girl as though he was trying to see through your dress. I never liked him at all, and once BIll and I started seeing each other, I was pretty glad he stopped hanging around. He was killed in the war, you know, and after that his family moved out of state. So there was Bill and the Allen boy, and they were looking at something on the shelves, or at least pretending they were, but they kept sneaking looks at me. I just ignored them and went about my business in the store, but they got right behind me at the checkout counter. "That's a nice coat you're wearing," Bill said. The Allen boy snorted, but I didn't see anything particularly funny about my coat. "Thank you," I said while the cashier rang up my things. I paid and walked right on out of the store, hoping they wouldn't see which way I went. Of course, the Woolworth's had all those big plate glass windows there in the front, and so naturally they saw exactly where I went. I didn't even get as far as the corner before they were out the door and following me.
So I stopped at the corner and turned around and faced them. "I know who you are, William Mills, and if you and your friend don't have anything better to do with yourselves, I'll walk straight to the police station and let them know," I snapped. I don't have the slightest idea where that came from, because usually I was as quiet as a mouse in those days. I suppose I was quite upset because Mother was doing so poorly and Father was so worried. I think I knew long before she did that she wasn't going to get better. Well, anyway, you should have seen the look on Bill's face when I called him by name. You'dve thought he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He got red, red, red in the face and he started stammering trying to think of something to say back to me. You know, I think that's the moment I fell in love with him, right there.
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