For months, I’d considered using part of the proceeds to support Westdale.
Walter would have loved that.
Now, sitting in Clare’s office, I asked about the center’s housing assistance program.
Clare sighed.
“We have more applications than we can handle. Families need help with rent, utilities, and deposits. Some are at risk of losing their homes.”
“How much money is left in the fund?”
“About four thousand dollars.”
“And how many people are waiting?”
“Twenty-two applications.”
I looked toward Walter’s photograph.
“What could you do with thirty-one thousand?”
Clare became quiet.
“Joanne, that’s a tremendous amount of money.”
“I know.”
“Please don’t make a decision because you’ve had a difficult afternoon.”
I appreciated her concern.
But the idea wasn’t new.
Walter and I had paid off our mortgage years earlier. My retirement income covered my expenses, and I had savings for emergencies.
