I let them in, and I made coffee. Mark confessed that Colleen and Patricia had planned to ask me for the money at Christmas, after the dinner, once I felt grateful. Excluding me was meant to make me feel afraid of being alone, so I would say yes to anything. Patricia had already told her church friends that the house deposit was settled.

Colleen demanded I take the donation back. I told her calmly that it was a gift, in Gerald’s name, and it had already helped three families that morning. Patricia said I had stolen from my own son. I replied that the money was mine, earned from Gerald’s thirty-five years of collecting, and that I had never promised it to anyone. Mark stood silent, then quietly said that his mother was right.

He turned to Colleen and said he was ashamed of the plan, and ashamed that he had gone along with it. He told her he would not spend Christmas away from his mother. Colleen stormed out with Patricia. Mark stayed, wiped his eyes, and asked if he could help me carry the pies to the center.

On Christmas Day, Mark, Emma, and Jacob served meals beside me at Eastgate, wearing paper aprons. Jacob put mustard on a roll, and everyone laughed. Colleen later sent a stiff apology, and I accepted it slowly. Mark and Colleen bought a smaller house the next year, saving on their own. Gerald’s photograph hangs by the center’s door, and every December, his name leads the volunteer list.