She wanted me to know exactly what she had done and exactly what it had cost her conscience, and to decide for myself what to make of it.

I have decided.

I think a mother who slips twenties out of a wallet for eleven years to repay a robbed daughter is the closest thing to justice that particular house ever held.

After Delroy finally left, she kept adding to it: a little from her pension, a little from Social Security, tax refunds, birthday money, a small inheritance from her own sister.

Dollar by dollar, over the years, it came to eighteen thousand, nine hundred and forty.