“I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
Her best friend hands her a cup of steeping tea. “I can’t believe they let you go.”
Maggie steadies the hot cup up to her lips, gives it a few long blows before she takes a sip. When she sits her mug on the table, she reaches for the stack of mail. She scrutinizes a padded envelope with no return address.
“What’s that?” her friend inquires.
Inside is a check with a lot of zeros and a note: Your grandfather wanted you to have this.
“It’s your sun in the clouds, Maggie.”
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