“Financial woes?” Mrs. Channing’s thin red lips agitated. “I beg your pardon. The Channing family donates generously, as do all the families on this board.”

“Yes, Mrs. Channing.” Miss King’s voice warbled. “All our needs are met. We lack for nothing.”

Leah gaped. That wasn’t what Miss King had told her, what Leah saw with her own eyes.

“Yankee carpetbagger,” the lady next to Mrs. Channing muttered. “Prancing into town, thinking she knows what’s best for us.”

“Oh dear. That isn’t what I meant.”

“Be kind, Mrs. Ross.” Mrs. Whipple frowned at the woman. “She may be misinformed, but her heart’s in the right place.”

“Even if we did need money, your proposal would fail.” Mrs. Channing closed her notebook. “In case you’re unaware, there’s a war on. The needs of our boys in the service prevail. The orphans are a drain on society, especially now. Folks would resent being asked to pay for luxuries for the children of immoral mothers and ne’er-do-well fathers.”

Leah sucked in a burning breath. How could someone who felt that way sit on an orphanage board?

“With all the war bond drives, folks are tired of giving.” Mrs. Whipple’s brow furrowed, and she wouldn’t meet Leah’s gaze. “I’m afraid very few people would attend.”

“Especially if the children served the food.” Mrs. Ross grimaced.

Leah’s back stiffened. “The children are clean, and the house is sanitary.”

“We—we do our best, but I know what folks think.” Miss King worked a strand of hair between her fingers.

Why wasn’t the director defending her home, her hard work, and her children?

Mrs. Channing stood. “Motion dismissed and meeting adjourned.”

Miss King leaned forward. “Before y’all leave, please know I appreciate your generosity in supporting our little home. I’m most grateful, and so are the children. We want for nothing.”

“I’m glad someone sees that.” Mrs. Channing swept out of the room.

The other ladies departed without giving Leah a glance.

Standing up required even more work than usual. Her whole body felt like lead.

“Mrs. Paxton, I appreciate your help with the children.” Miss King twiddled her hair at a frenetic pace. “I do. But please don’t make plans without consulting me.”

“I won’t. I—I’m so sorry.” Leah trudged to the door.

She hadn’t meant to insult the donors, but she had. She thought she’d understood the needs of the home and the heart of the community, but she hadn’t.

Who did she think she was? A dirty orphan had no right to sit on boards with society ladies and make proposals.

Leah stepped outside and opened her umbrella. The rain tapped accusations on the fabric above her.

She didn’t belong in Tullahoma or Des Moines or even in Chicago.

She trudged back to her borrowed home in her borrowed clothes with her borrowed name.