Elias Boone didn’t own much that qualified as smart clothing. He had his church shirt — a pale blue button-down he kept pressed and hanging separate from everything else — and his good dark trousers that Margaret had picked out for him at the hardware store’s clothing section back in 2011 because she said he needed at least one pair of pants that didn’t have a history.
He put both on that morning and stood in the bathroom mirror for a moment deciding if it was enough. It would have to be. Margaret had always been the one who knew how to present herself for occasions like this.