“Let me get some of those, Birdie,” I say, pulling several grocery bags from her arms.

“Oh, Julian,” she says, balancing the rest of the bags. “We were looking like Mother Hubbard’s kitchen this morning. Come on, help me put some of this away.”

I unload several bags’ worth of canned goods and frozen vegetables while Birdie washes fruit in the sink. She hums while she works.

“Where’s Elijah? Doing some homework?” she asks between hums.

“He’s… he’s not feeling well,” I lie, my gut twisting. “He went to bed early. I think he pushed himself a little too hard at practice or something. It was a hot one out there today.”

“You can say that again. I’m ready for the cold snap, I’ll tell you what,” she says, dropping apples into a bowl on the counter and starting on the grapes and clementines.

When I finish putting all the other groceries away, I join Birdie at the sink. “How was your meeting?” I ask her.

Birdie stops humming. “Let’s go on and sit down for a minute,” she says.

Turning off the water, she wanders out into the living room and settles into her La-Z-Boy. I sit on the couch, my legs folded underneath me.

“Pastor Ernie is going to buy me out,” she says.

“Wait a minute, you’re selling?” My heart races, and a lump forms in my throat faster than I can stop it. “You’re actually selling it?”

“Shhh, it’s going to be okay, Julian,” she says. “Just listen for a minute, son. Pastor Ernie wants to follow exactly what your father’s plans were for the place. He’s going to do everything exactly how Jeffrey wanted to do it.” Her voice cracks when she says my father’s name.

My heart slows and the lump starts to dissolve. I blink and a few tears escape. “So why are you stepping back? Why are you selling it?”

“It just makes more sense like this. I’ve got a college education to think about, don’t I?” She smiles and holds her hand out to me. I reach out and let her squeeze my hand. “Mr. Figg is probably going to retire in the next couple of years, and he’ll take over running the business. I’m going to help, of course. Pastor Ernie and I have already discussed my role as director,” she says. “Your father would be so proud of you, Julian, even if we’re not the ones who own the center.”

I let my hand drop, and that guilt comes sneaking back into my chest.