Then I had felt guilty for thinking any of it.
Now, sitting in the Meridian archive, I realized my mother had probably asked herself the same questions for most of her life.
“You okay?” Mara asked.
I nodded.
Then shook my head.
“I don’t know.”
“That’s allowed.”
I read the last page.
Eleanor and I agreed that the stewardship seat would remain dormant until the theater reopened.
If that day came after I was gone, the choice would become yours.
Not because you owe me.
Not because you owe Eleanor.
And certainly not because you owe the Voss family.
You owe none of us anything.
Listen.
Ask questions.
Then decide what kind of place you believe should exist in the city where you live.
One more thing.
Do not let being broke make you think your judgment is for sale.
People with money are often very good at mistaking financial security for wisdom.
