He let out a breath. I think he was relieved. I think he’d been terrified.
“I gave it to the town,” I said.
“The town?”
“The Millbrook Community Trust,” Danny said, sliding the papers back into his briefcase. “Dot created it last month. Account 0001, and all the rights that go with it, and the deed to the bank building, all go into the trust. The trust is managed by a board. Seven people. All Millbrook residents. They serve five-year terms. When one leaves, the others pick a replacement.”
“Who’s on the board?” Brandon asked.
I counted them off.
“Shelly Haskins,” I said. “Miguel Ruiz. Ruth Abernathy. Marlene Voss’s grandson, Kyle, who runs their farm now. Reverend Collins from the Methodist church. Kayla Brandt, the young mother with the toddler who was in line that day. And Earl Lindquist, because somebody needs to be cranky.”
Brandon laughed. Then he stopped.
