There are soft, pitying murmurs. My dad places a supportive hand on my mother’s shoulder.
“We as a family decided it would be best to keep him out of the loop.” She glances sheepishly to my father who may not know about her phone call to me. “But we see now that was a terrible idea. Things look way worse than if we were up front with him from the beginning.
“We need to try and figure out what’s going on before he gets here. Now, don’t forget. He thinks his help to this town is still a secret. He doesn’t know y’all figured it out years ago.”
“We’ll do whatever it takes, Kathy,” another man shouts out.
“Your boy saved this town and we stand by you and your family no matter what,” a woman adds.
My hands clasp behind my head. I’m going to cry. Like the proud feminist I am, I’m about to lose it. They know what I’ve been doing. They support my family still. After all this time.
As I bring my hands down, I pull my hat off. I make my way to the podium as the whispers get louder. My mom’s still speaking about organizing committees when she notices the disquiet and turns to me.
Her eyes widen and her hands go to her mouth. We’re embracing a second later. My dad and brother and sister join in too. The auditorium breaks out in cheers.
Yup, I’m crying. Full on. No shame.
After a minute I wipe my face. The relief I feel. It’s unreal. I can’t even speak. My brother shakes my shoulders and calls me names. My father’s face is twisted in happy pain.
“Well, darn,” my mother says with a sniff. “I don’t suppose you missed all that.”
“I heard it all, Ma.”
I go to the podium. It’s time to clear the air. I can’t handle people thinking that Maggie is to blame for all this.
I grip my ball cap and go to the microphone.
“Hey, everyone.”
They clap and I shake my head with modesty. Something about seeing your former baseball coach clapping for you is almost too much to take.
“You can’t imagine what your support means to me.” My throat tightens and I grip the podium.
“Just returning the favor,” someone speaks up.
“Growing up here, when things were so hard. You all did so much.” I point to Mrs. Hale. “Giving us produce from your garden.”
She waves my comment away.
“Giving us jobs.” The former principal of my school squints when I gesture to him. “All of it. You all made me who I am. You gave our family a chance. All I ever wanted to do was give you something in return. I’m so sorry that this happened. I’m so sorry I couldn’t stop the money from being lost. And I’m sorry to say I likely won’t be able to support you much longer.”
My brother steps up to me and nudges me. He grins. “The money isn’t gone.”
The crowd studies us as I stare in disbelief at him and the rest of my family smiling happily. “What do you mean?”
“As soon as we discovered it was starting to disappear, we transferred it out to safe accounts. We used your movie role names for the account names. I guess we didn’t think it would look shady. But it’s not laundered money. It’s just our money getting interest.”
I’m clutching at my heart through my shirt. I only notice because my mom grasps my hand. “Don’t wrinkle your nice shirt.”
“I don’t understand,” I say.
There’s no foul play? That’s why the police haven’t arrested me. Because it’s all legit. I blink. So Zebulund wasn’t setting me up. He legitimately thinks I’m laundering money. No wonder he’s so keen to have me.
“Why wouldn’t you just tell me?” I ask.
“You were killing yourself for us. We didn’t want to make it worse.”
“But when you called? You said money was going missing.”
