Hazel gripped the microphone with both hands and took a steady breath. “Good evening,” she said. “My mom made this dress from her old clothes, and I want to tell you why it is the most beautiful one here.” The gym went quiet. Then she turned toward Victoria and added, “And I want to thank someone in this room, because she is the reason my mom is able to keep sewing.”

Victoria’s smirk faltered. Hazel reached into her pocket and unfolded a small, worn card. “Last winter, someone left an envelope on our door with rent money and a note that said, ‘From a friend.’ Mom cried for an hour. The card inside had a flower stamp.” She held it up toward the lights. Victoria’s face went white as a woman in the third row slowly rose from her seat.