She told me she’d married a wealthy man who had left her dr*wning in debt before disappearing.
She had lost EVERYTHING.
Then she asked me for money.
Greta, thirteen now, stood at the top of the stairs and did not come down.
For several minutes, I said nothing.
I wanted Katherine to understand SOMETHING.
So I said:
“I’ll give you money. I’ll feed you. I’ll even give you a place to sleep. Whatever you need.
But I have ONE CONDITION.
If you can’t accept it, you can leave right now.”
Katherine wiped her eyes.
“Anything. Whatever it is.”
I looked past her, at my daughters — one in the doorway, one on the stairs — and then back at the woman who had put a baby in my arms and picked up a suitcase.
“Sit down,” I said. “You’re going to want to be sitting for this.”
PART 2
She sat at my kitchen table.
The same table.
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