Chapter 8
Daisy started asking what she was worth.
That nearly destroyed me.
At breakfast:
“Daddy, how much am I?”
I put down my coffee.
“What?”
“If zero bad, how much good?”
I wanted Lucille out of existence for one second.
Then I controlled myself.
“You’re not a price.”
She frowned.
“Everything has price.”
Apparently auction night had taught vocabulary too well.
I tried again.
“People don’t.”
“What about auction?”
“Things go in auctions.”
She looked down.
“I was thing.”
“No.”
She had been treated like one.
Important difference.
I moved beside her.
“Lucille did something cruel. That didn’t make it true.”
Daisy thought.
Then held up her drawing.
“How much this?”
I smiled.
“To me?”
“Yes.”
“Can’t buy it.”
May you like
She liked that answer.
So did I.
