Not his chauffeur.
Not his cook.
Not the emergency babysitter.
His grandmother.
That mattered.
Before leaving, Melissa handed me an envelope.
I opened it.
Six hundred dollars.
I frowned.
“What is this?”
“The beginning.”
“Of what?”
“Paying you back.”
I looked at her.
“Melissa, do not give me money you need for groceries just to make yourself feel better.”
“I’m not.”
She twisted the strap of her purse.
“I sold three bags. And some jewelry.”
I said nothing.
“I also got a job.”
That surprised me.
Melissa had not worked full-time since Noah was born.
“Where?”
“Front office at a pediatric dental practice.”
“You start when?”
“Monday.”
I studied her face.
She looked embarrassed.
But also strangely proud.
“I don’t know how much I can repay every month.”
