Mildred didn’t have much—just a modest pension, a tiny two-bedroom home filled with memories, and a heart full of love for her family. But when prom season rolled around, one thought wouldn’t leave her mind: her granddaughter Clara deserved a beautiful dress.
Clara was smart, kind, and hardworking. She had spent the past four years juggling schoolwork, helping her mother Agnes around the house, and never once asking for anything. So Mildred decided—quietly, stubbornly—that she would find a way to buy Clara a dress. It didn’t matter that money was tight. Some things were worth it.
On a warm afternoon, she took the city bus into town and walked into one of the fanciest boutiques in Tampa. The store sparkled with chandeliers, mannequins in sequined gowns, and glass shelves lined with shoes that looked more like artwork than footwear.
A tall woman with sharp red lipstick and an even sharper stare approached. “Can I help you?” she asked, voice clipped.