Maya
The cashbox sat on the kitchen table.
It was more than any previous year. Significantly more. It was people showing their support. It was a way for them to apologize.
She thought about Reid soaking wet, telling her he didn’t want a divorce.
She closed the box.
She could call Victoria Hale now. Somehow her reputation was back. Reid Lawson had done the unimaginable. He’d restored her good name. She’d thought that was impossible.
She could do a lot of good working with Victoria. The acquisition had been everything she had wanted only a few short weeks ago.
It was good work. It was satisfying work.
But somehow, when everything had been knocked down, and Maya was faced with a blank page, her ideas had become bigger.
Organizing logistics was not her dream job.
It wasn’t the joy of looking at blueprints and seeing what could be changed. It wasn’t the freedom of making changes before any concrete was poured.
Victoria's work was meaningful. It mattered, it would always matter.
Naomi’s work was something else. Something she didn't have a word for yet. Scary and exciting. The dream she had glimpsed in those old notebooks, getting things right from the beginning instead of making the best of what was already wrong.
Both of them had flexible hours, both of them would be part time. She could take on both roles, work both jobs.
Or. She could choose one and have space in her life for something else. Something that didn’t contribute to the well-being of the community. Something that she wanted.
She could do Victoria's work and be a mother.
She could do Naomi's work and be a mother.
She thought about what Edith had asked her.
When was the last time you chose something for yourself?
The community work was for other people. She loved it, she was good at it, it mattered. It was Maya Lawson solving problems for other people, which was the thing she had been doing since she was twenty years old standing in a hospital waiting room making phone calls.
Naomi's work would improve lives too. Accessibility was always for a greater good.
But the part that lit her up—the blueprints, the planning stage, the getting it right before it was wrong—that would be for her.
Maya looked at the cashbox.
Even with Victoria Hale’s foundation behind it, if Maya wasn’t there to run it, who would step in?
Her calendar had a vegetation project on it for tomorrow.
The development on the community center had blocked the entrance. The access was back now, and the path needed to be cleared. Low branches, overgrown hedges. The kind of work nobody noticed unless it stopped happening. Who would be there tomorrow?
The charity needed someone on the ground. Someone who cared about the community. Someone who could manage the projects, coordinate the volunteers, keep the relationships alive.
Maya had spent years being that combination.
The money would be returned. Victoria Hale was once again ready to bring the charity under her wing. The community trust was—maybe, hopefully—there.
But someone needed to be in charge.
She thought about Naomi's blueprints waiting for her.
She thought about being a mother.
And she thought about the charity. If she wanted this charity to keep going good work in her community, who else would run it?
She would have to sacrifice something.