She held out the check.
It was for twelve thousand dollars.
“It’s not all of it,” she said. “I know it’s not all of it. It’s what I could get. I sold my car. I’m working out a payment plan for the rest. Colby’s helping. Well. Colby’s… we’re working things out.”
I looked at the check. Then at her.
“Why?”
She swallowed.
“Because I didn’t know,” she said. “About the money. I swear to God, Emma. Mom said Grandpa wanted to pay off my loans. She said it was a gift. I didn’t ask where it came from. I didn’t ask anything.” Her face crumpled. “I didn’t ask because I never had to. Nobody ever made me. And then I stood in that church and I heard you say ‘my college fund,’ and I thought about you up in that attic with that crappy space heater. And I thought about what I said this morning. About your cheap mascara.”
