“Neither did I,” I admitted, smoothing the front of my blazer. I wasn’t wearing fatigues today, but somehow this felt like the most important uniform I’d ever put on.
“Your dad would be proud,” Jack added.
His voice was steady, but I caught the tightness in his throat.
“Yeah,” I said softly. “I think so too.”
The mayor of Albany arrived next, all polished smiles and firm handshakes, followed by local officials who suddenly cared a lot about community support. They lined up for the photo ops, but I didn’t mind. Their presence meant the foundation had traction, and traction meant survival.
When it was time, I stepped to the podium. The crowd hushed. My eyes caught on Mom in the front row. She was sitting straighter than I’d seen her in years, hands clasped tight in her lap. She hadn’t missed a single planning meeting since that night Megan stormed away. It wasn’t forgiveness for the past, not entirely, but it was proof of change.