Maya
She thought about Owen and Jenny and Edith and Thomas.
She knew which curb cut flooded every time it rained. She knew which crossing light changed too fast for Edith.
She knew which shop owners would donate raffle prizes if she asked in March and which ones needed until June to feel generous.
Her phone rang and Mom flashed across the screen.
Maya closed her eyes briefly, then answered. “Hi.”
“Hi, sugar,” her mother said, sounding emotional. “There’s room for you here. There’s always room for you here.”
Maya stopped walking.
“We’re in a lovely spot,” her father said. “You’d love it. There’s a lake nearby, and the walking trails are beautiful.”
A place where no one would know her.
No one would have seen the arrest.
For one weak, exhausted second, the thought was beautiful.
She closed her eyes.
She could leave before the town chased her away.
“Maya?” her mother prompted.
Maya opened her eyes.
Across the street, a community bulletin board still had the flyer from the Roll & Run pinned crookedly beneath the glass. Someone had chalked hopscotch squares across the sidewalk, uneven and bright.
Ordinary things.
Her things.
The community had turned on her and the betrayal stung.
But you couldn’t be wounded by a place unless you loved it.
The thought cut through her so cleanly that she almost laughed.
Oh.
She didn’t know how she was going to plead. Guilty and be known as a thief forever. Innocent and risk months behind bars.
But even with that hanging over her, even knowing that some of her friends and neighbors would not stand with her, she wanted to be here.
She wanted this place.
The life she had made here.
She still dreamed of raising a child here someday.
Home was not the place that had never hurt you.
Home was the place you could not stop wanting to mend.
“Maya?” her mother prompted.
Maya looked down the street.
A place was home if you couldn’t imagine wanting to be anywhere else.
And she didn’t want to leave.
Owen sat at the table with a mug of tea in front of him. Maya appreciated how much Owen had been showing up for her. He’d come to visit after school more days than not.
From upstairs, Jenny’s footsteps moved across the floorboards, quick and slightly uneven. A drawer opened. Closed again.
“I’ll just grab my bag!” she called down.
Owen’s gaze flicked up toward the ceiling at the sound of her voice, then dropped again just as quickly, settling back on the table.
“Take your time!” Maya called back.
Jenny’s footsteps sounded again, this time on the stairs.
“Ready!” she called, appearing in the doorway, her bag slipping down her shoulder.
“Perfect timing,” Maya said, reaching for her bag.
Owen pushed himself back from the table. “I’ll get going,” he said, turning his chair. “Hope it goes well,” he said to Jenny.
The doorbell rang.
All three of them paused.
Jenny frowned. “Are we expecting someone?”
Maya shook her head. “No. Are you?”
“I’ll get it,” Jenny said, already turning.
She heard Jenny open the door.
There was a brief pause.
Then—“Maya? There’s someone here for you.”
Maya moved past her and stopped short.
Victoria Hale stood on the doorstep.
The image didn’t fit. She didn’t belong here, framed by the Merritts’ front door and the slightly worn welcome mat.
“Mrs. Lawson,” Victoria said.
Maya blinked.
“Ms. Hale,” she said.
She became aware, distantly, that she was just standing there.
“Oh—sorry. Do you want to come in?”
Victoria inclined her head and stepped inside.
Maya moved back automatically to make space, her mind still catching up.
Jenny shifted slightly beside her, her bag sliding down her shoulder again.
Maya turned, the reminder hitting all at once. “Right. The appointment.”
She looked between Jenny and Victoria.
“I’ll take you,” Owen said to Jenny.
Jenny turned toward him, surprised. “Oh. That’s—I can go by myself.”
“I know you can,” he said. “But you don’t have to.”
There was a brief pause. Jenny looked at him for a second longer than necessary, something flickering across her expression before she nodded.
“Okay,” she said. “If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.”
Maya frowned slightly. “Owen—”
“I’ve got it,” he said, cutting her off. “This looks—” He gestured vaguely toward the sitting room. “Important.”
Owen had already moved toward the door, holding it open for Jenny. She slipped past him, and they were gone. The door closed behind them.
They sat opposite each other, Victoria in the armchair, Maya on the sofa. For a moment, neither of them spoke.
“Your husband came to see me.”
Maya blinked. “Came to—” She shook her head slightly, as if she’d misheard.
“He caught a plane, came to my office,” Victoria said calmly. “Insisted on being seen.”
For a moment, the image didn’t quite form properly in her mind. Reid, getting on a plane. Reid demanding an audience.
“He told me I had made a mistake,” Victoria went on, a faint note of dry amusement threading through her voice. “In rather direct terms.”
Maya huffed an involuntary breath.
“I am going to put out a statement,” Victoria said. “Explaining that we don’t believe you are guilty and that we support you.”
Maya blinked, her mind moving in a dozen directions at once.
“He’s an idiot,” Victoria added. “I’m sorry for what he’s dragged you through.”
Maya let out a quiet laugh.
For the past week, Reid had been everywhere she turned—not physically, not always—but in the consequences he was trying to untangle. The lawyer, the bank accounts, the community.
Now this.
“Your work stands on its own. It did before any of this, and it does now. My offer stands.”
Maya swallowed.
“Thank you,” she said. “But there isn’t anything left.”
Victoria’s brow furrowed slightly.
“The charity,” Maya went on. “There’s nothing to acquire anymore.” She let out a small breath. “It was people. It was trust. It was reputation.”
She shook her head once.
“That’s gone.”
“When you manage to turn that around, call me,” Victoria said with a knowing smile. She rose then, the meeting concluded.
He’d flown there.
He hadn’t told her.
He hadn’t asked for anything.
He had just… gone.