A woman named Marjorie who had been organizing donations all evening looked like she wasn’t sure whether she should accept it.
Ethan held out the envelope.
“This is for the fund.”
Marjorie glanced toward Richard.
Then toward me.
I nodded.
She accepted it.
“Thank you.”
Ethan gave a small shrug.
“Apparently I should thank Victoria for making sure it goes somewhere useful.”
His voice was joking.
But only partly.
Then he left the tent.
No dramatic exit.
No slammed door.
He simply walked through the open side of the canopy and disappeared toward the parking area.
Richard watched him go.
For a moment the wealthy businessman on the sponsor posters vanished.
He was just a father realizing that his son had walked away from him.
Denise appeared beside me.
“Well,” she whispered.
“I know.”
“You have strange ideas about neighborhood bonding.”
“I’m beginning to realize that.”
She handed me my jacket.
Across the tent, music started playing again.
People returned slowly to their tables.
The spell broke.
Within minutes someone was bidding on a weekend cabin rental, Carlos was answering questions about his academy, and Marjorie was carefully placing Ethan’s envelope inside the locked donation box.
Normal life resumed with remarkable speed.
