She spun on her heel and walked out through the kitchen side door without a backward glance.

I stepped out onto the concrete back porch and watched Margaret walk down the driveway toward her silver sedan.

The wind was rising out of the north, sweeping dry oak leaves across the gravel.

Margaret unlocked her car with her key fob.

Before she slid into the driver’s seat, she turned around and gripped the top of the door with both hands.

“I came here to give you a chance to fix this family before it’s too late,” she said, her voice carrying clearly across the driveway.