I never would have found you.” So we found Theresa, pushing a mop bucket down a tiled corridor, and my mother called her name, and it took the poor woman a long moment to recognize the clean, well-dressed stranger in front of her.

“What, Theresa?” my mother laughed.

“You don’t know the old rag-lady who used to beg you for coffee?” Theresa dropped her mop with a clatter.

“Lucy?” And they held each other in the middle of the crowded terminal and wept.

Alejandro, who had quietly looked into Theresa’s past and learned that she had once been a gifted seamstress with no money to ever open a shop, did not hand her a check.

He leased her a small storefront, and filled it with two industrial sewing machines, and secured her a contract altering the local school uniforms, and paid the first year on a clean, bright apartment nearby.