NORTH PANTRY.
MOTEL.
ELM STREET SENIORS.
SCHOOL.
I stopped beside the last one.
SCHOOL?
Dad came up behind me.
“You’ve been busy.”
I turned.
“You send vegetables to a school?”
He bent stiffly and pulled a weed.
“Summer lunch program.”
“How long?”
“Couple years.”
“And you never thought to mention any of this?”
He considered the weed in his hand.
“You never asked.”
I stared at him.
“That is the most Dad answer you could possibly give.”
His mouth twitched.
For a moment, irritation gave way to something warmer.
Then I saw the marker at the end of the next row.
It was older than the others.
Weathered gray.
The letters had almost faded away.
MARA.
I touched it.
“Who’s Mara?”
Dad’s expression closed.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
“I need to check the potatoes.”
He walked away.
I watched him go.
Elena was filling her second basket nearby.
