She did want the town to record why the original assistance had never arrived.

Thomas agreed that an accurate account mattered more to him than reimbursement.

Another resident disagreed.

He had borrowed money at high interest to complete a roof repair and believed compensation was essential.

The room grew tense when people began comparing how much each family had suffered.

The adviser reminded them that different needs did not invalidate one another.

One person could seek repayment while another sought recognition.

Their claims did not have to compete for moral legitimacy.

I sat in the back with Daniel and watched the discussion unfold.

For the first time, the residents were speaking directly about what they wanted rather than waiting for the old committee to tell them what they deserved.

Daniel said his mother would have been glad to see that.

I asked whether he wished the meeting had happened years earlier.

He laughed quietly.

“Every day,” he answered.

Afterward, Naomi thanked me for helping reconnect the records.

I told her the work belonged to many people, especially those who had saved their own documents.

She said that was exactly why she wanted to thank me.

I had not tried to become the center of the story.

The compliment made me uncomfortable, but I accepted it.

Chapter 41: Sophie Meets Daniel

Daniel visited our house for the first time on a sunny Saturday in April.

He brought a small wooden birdhouse he had made for Sophie and a photograph of his mother standing beside our maple tree.

Sophie greeted him with a list of questions written in neat pencil.

She wanted to know whether Evelyn planted the daffodils by the fence and whether the strange closet under the stairs had once stored tools.

Daniel laughed and answered every question he could.

His mother had planted the daffodils with him when he was ten.

The closet had held board games, winter boots, and a vacuum cleaner that never worked properly.

Sophie asked whether the house had always creaked at night.

Daniel said it had, especially during thunderstorms.

She looked relieved to discover the noise was older than our family.

We walked through the garden while Daniel described his father’s habit of sharpening pencils with a pocketknife on the back steps.

He remembered a patch of mint that had once spread so aggressively his mother threatened to dig up the entire garden.

I showed him the mint growing beside the rain barrel.