His face softened—just a little.
“She’s my mother.”
The world tilted.
He explained everything. Margaret wasn’t homeless by circumstance alone. She had walked away from her life after a family conflict, refusing help out of pride and heartbreak. They’d been searching for her for weeks.
“She told us about you,” he said quietly. “About your children. About Christmas Eve.”
Another car pulled up behind him. Then another.
Margaret stepped out of the SUV, warm coat, scarf, eyes shining with tears.
She walked straight to me and took my hands.
