We put the wedding money to work in June.
That’s the part I like telling.
The Winslows’ one hundred and forty thousand dollars — the wedding where I sat by the kitchen doors — funded, that year, the Fund’s emergency fee: four thousand dollars, no application, for a woman who needs first, last, and a locksmith in the same week.
Thirty-one women used it.
Our board wanted to name it.
I said no for a month, and then I said yes, and we called it the Table Twelve Fund, and when the board chair asked me why, I told her the truth, and she said, “Danielle, that’s either very healthy or very unhealthy and I’ve decided not to ask which.”
It’s both.
I’ve decided to let it be both.
Delphine Marsh left Corinne’s board in the fall.
She joined ours in January.
She brought four donors with her and an apology I told her she didn’t owe me, and she said, “I don’t owe it to you, Danielle, I owe it to a woman who cleaned a building I’ve been drinking in for three years,” and I let her give it.
