On Mark’s screen was a local news post. A photo of me and Gerald stood beside a banner that read, “Eastgate Center receives record $36,000 gift in memory of volunteer.” Below it, hundreds of comments. Mark’s voice shook. “Mom, Colleen’s mother saw this at six this morning. She called us screaming. She says you gave away our down payment.” I slid the chain off the door and stepped back. “Come in,” I said quietly. “You are letting the heat out.”

He walked into my kitchen and stared at the calendar. Then headlights swept across the window, and a red sedan stopped behind his truck. Colleen climbed out with her mother, Patricia, both in heavy coats, faces tight with fury. Colleen pounded on the glass. “Diane, open this door!” she shouted. Mark turned to me, pale and pleading. “Mom, please. Let me explain before they come in.”