“I’m sorry,” she told me. “This isn’t how he planned it.”
“Who are you?”
“My name is Claudia Moreno.”
She looked at Reed.
“I ran Harbor House when Reed stayed there.”
Harbor House.
I knew the name.
Everyone in Madison did.
It was a transitional housing program on the east side. They helped teenagers and young adults who didn’t have anywhere stable to live.
I had donated winter coats there twice.
It had never crossed my mind that my future husband had once needed it himself.
Claudia pointed toward the people sitting in the back.
“Most of us knew him from those months.”
The man in plaid lifted one hand.
“I’m Hank. I owned the diner across from the shelter.”
The younger woman beside him said, “I’m his daughter. I worked mornings back then.”
Another man smiled.
“I helped him get into the apprenticeship program.”
