It was late autumn when I came back to New Jersey — the air crisp, the leaves gone gold and amber.

I parked a mid-range sedan, a car that would have appalled my former driver, a block from the Keystone Foundation’s community outreach center.

I wore faded jeans and a plain wool sweater.

The platinum watch was gone.

I carried a heavy cardboard box toward the open courtyard, where volunteers were organizing a book drive, and in the middle of the cheerful chaos stood Coraline, laughing with a group of teenagers, handing out scholarship applications.

I did not intrude.