At a gasoline service station off the Interstate, somewhere in northern Kentucky, as the afternoon began to turn to evening:

“You’re so pretty!”

“Thank you!” The young woman with the old workshirt tied in front and the cut-off shorts reached up to her bundle of helium balloons. As she snatched each one, she counted off “One for you, one for your brother, one for your other brother, and one extra in case one pops or goes THPPTH !”

The little girl giggled at the raspberry, and the young woman stopped a moment before handing the balloons to her. As the girl turned back toward her car, the woman asked “Is that your mommy over there?”

“Yes.”

“I want to talk to her. Could you lead me?”

“Yes.”

So the young woman went to the girl’s mother and told her, “Take the last exit before the Turnpike and go to the McClean Parkway instead. It’ll save you some gas and money on the tolls. That and you don’t have to fight so many trucks.”

“Hmm. How do you know where I’m going?”

“Trade secret.”