Rebecca handed her the letter.
Mom opened it carefully and read the first few lines.
Then she passed it to me. “Please, Michael. Read it.”
I began.
Mom stared at her.
“Dear Victoria,
I hope you and your boys are well. I still remember our Saturday conversations. You probably thought I was helping you, but you helped me too. After my husband died, I was frightened of everything. You reminded me I could build another life.
I never expected you to repay the money. Knowing your boys were safe was enough. I wanted you to visit because I hoped you’d see what your kindness helped me build. If you ever come to the ocean, there’s always a room for you. And if you never come, please remember that I was grateful for your friendship.”
