I stared at her.
“What?”
“Office administrator.”
I waited.
“The first week, a mother came in crying because her daughter had six late marks.”
My expression changed.
Denise looked embarrassed.
“The bus kept arriving late.”
“Oh.”
“She kept saying it wasn’t her daughter’s fault.”
I said nothing.
“And I heard myself thinking, ‘Then solve it.’”
She looked down.
“Then I remembered your boys.”
That was the closest she had ever come to understanding.
“What happened?”
“The school removed the late marks after they checked the bus records.”
“Good.”
She nodded.
“I should have listened to you the first time.”
“Yes.”
“I was rude.”
“Yes.”
“And petty.”
I considered it.
“Very.”
She gave a tiny laugh.
“I’m sorry.”
This time I believed her.
I didn’t hug her.
We did not become best friends.
But I said, “Thank you.”
The driveway widening happened before Christmas.
