Chapter 2

The next morning, Marvin did something he never did. He came back with breakfast.

Pan-fried dumplings from the place I loved, still hot.

"Don't take yesterday to heart," he said.

He set the bag on the table.

"I took the day off. I'm taking you to get your wedding shoes custom-made."

I bit into a dumpling, the juice scalding my mouth.

He sounded sincere, and his eyes were soft too.

For a second I thought maybe I really had been too sensitive last night.

The car was already parked downstairs.

I walked to the passenger side and pulled the door open.

The seat had been slid all the way forward.

I got in, my legs cramped against it, knees almost jammed into the glove box.

I reached for the seat adjustment button.

Marvin came over and rapped on the window.

"Leave the seat," he said through the glass.

"Anita's got short legs. It has to be set like that for her to reach the pedals."

My hand froze on the button.

Marvin opened the back door.

"You're in a dress today, it's awkward up front. You'll have more room in the back."

I unbuckled the seatbelt, climbed out of the passenger seat, and got into the back.

I looked at the empty passenger seat up front and said nothing.

At the custom shoe shop, the craftsman came over to measure my feet.

I'd just stretched out my foot when the door swung open.

Anita ran in, out of breath.

"Marvin, I'm not late, am I? Has she picked her style yet?"

Marvin shook his head, and without a flicker of hesitation had the craftsman measure her too.

When she sat down, a patch of red swelling showed at her ankle.

Marvin frowned at once and crouched to look.

"How did you twist it again? Didn't I tell you to wear flats?"

After the accident last week, I'd had a big bruise on my ankle too.

It spread from my heel all the way to the top of my foot, and even wearing shoes rubbed it raw.

He'd taken one look and said, "Spray some ointment on it, it's nothing."

Then he'd turned away to take Anita's call.

Marvin crouched at her feet and pressed the swelling gently with his fingers.

Anita sucked in a breath, and he pulled his hand back at once.

"Does it hurt?"

"A little."

He looked up at the craftsman. "Do a special custom pair for her. She needs extra ankle support."

Then he looked at me.

"You try this pair first. Let him take care of Anita first, her foot's hurt, she needs the special custom job."

The craftsman was already measuring Anita.

He wound the soft tape carefully twice around her ankle and jotted several numbers in his notebook.

"Fine," I said.

When he paid, the card reader screen lit up for a second.

"Valued VIP member: Anita Fox."

On the drive back, Marvin took a call in the front seat.

"The membership's opened under your name, all the points go to you. From now on you can just come and swipe it yourself."

Even for the shoes he was buying me, he had to save the last perk for Anita.

I stared at the back of his head, and all at once I remembered junior year.

Marvin had worked a delivery job for three months and given me a bank card.

He'd held my hand and pressed the card with only my name on it into my palm, his eyes burning and earnest.

"This card belongs to you alone. I want to keep you in my card, so you'll never want for anything."

That card still lay at the back of my drawer, never once used.

And now he'd finally opened a card that could let someone "never want for anything," and the name on it was Anita Fox.