Chapter 24: The Gleason Table

Emmeline's POV

By Saturday noon, I had burned one pie and saved the second.

Kurt had pushed the kitchen table against the living room wall.

He had borrowed two folding tables from the church and set them end to end across the room.

The old man from Orchard Street brought a ham.

The caseworker brought rolls.

The woman from the bake sale brought three pies and did not mention the one I had burned.

The principal came with a card.

The teacher who had cried at the school gate brought yellow flowers from her own yard.

The deputy from Orchard Street came in uniform, took off his hat at the door, and ate two helpings of everything.

Kurt's first sergeant had mailed a box.

Inside was a platoon patch and a folded flag with a note.

Under them lay a gift card from the unit for a grocery store in the next county.

*Not Bissell's,* the note said. *We checked.*

I laughed so hard I had to sit on the stairs.

At two, the food bank truck came up our street.

It was the first one Bissell Holdings paid for.

Two volunteers in green aprons carried in a case of canned peaches and a bag of flour.

They set a tray of cold chicken in my hands.

"Delivered to the Gleason house first," the driver said. "By order of the court."

"Tell the court thank you."

"I'll tell it your daughter said hello. She waved at me through the window all morning."

Maisy, in a yellow dress, had been appointed to greet everyone at the door.

She told each guest to wipe their feet and then asked what they had brought.

At four, everyone sat.

The tables ran the length of the living room, covered in two bedsheets, with plates that did not match and chairs from five different houses.

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