Rose Martha Sims was sick to her stomach with worry. Seven weeks had passed since she sent off a story to the confession magazine. She’d mailed it from another town, fearful that someone at her little post office would notice her name on the envelope. Now she was nervously watching for the return envelope to come bouncing back, because who ever sold something on the first try?
What she didn’t figure on was her husband coming home from work early, and meeting the postman in the driveway. Or her husband handing her a thin envelope, and waiting—all curious and expectant while she opened it. Or finding a check for $67 because the magazine bought her story.
Rose Martha had a lot of confessing to do, but her husband was proud of her, and said she needed to open up a savings account with it.
They went to the drive-in that night for supper, and after the car-hop brought their food, and they began to eat, he turned to her and said, “You won’t believe what I heard at work today—about the girl in receiving.”