Maggie surveyed the table, a beam of late afternoon sun illuminating the brilliant beads she was using to make her grandmother's purse. Silver lined orange coral tangled up with pale, greasy yellow. Hanks of cut-glass black lay next to rose white-hearts, crystal clear iridescent, metallic gold, and medium cool blue satin.
Just then, she heard the screen door slam shut. Maggie's mom bent down to kiss her daughter, then reached in her pocket and pulled out a small square of neatly folded white deerhide. "Something special from the junk store," she said, handing it to Maggie.