I spent the night rewriting copy, calming worried staff members, sending reassuring emails to donors, and drafting a clarified release. Angel sat with me part of the evening, offering a dry wit that lightened the pressure. For a while, the house felt like it could be governed by two competent hands.
At two in the morning, my phone buzzed. A message from Conley: How is everything? The tiny vibration was a mercy and a torment. I typed back the update, told him we were managing, and then pressed my face into the pillow, exhausted.
The morning he was to return, I waited at the gate to watch his car round the curve of the drive. When he stepped out, the world seemed to reorient itself. He was still the man who measured rooms and people. He hugged Angel with a warmth that felt rehearsed and re
