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“Oh good. Hi, Poppy. As I said, I’m Ann Walsh, an attorney with Walsh, Wallace, and Sila.”

“Is everything okay?” I ask, confused.

She laughs. “Yes, everything is fine. I thought you were expecting my call, so I apologize.”

Expecting her call? Why would I be expecting a call from a lawyer?

I hold my forehead. What did my mother do now?

“Chuck Lansing, a sports agent with whom I share many clients, asked me to give you a call,” she says. “Apparently, you’re interested in starting a foundation.”

A sports agent, huh? I smile, leaning back in my chair and shaking my head. Okay, Finn. My friend.

“Yes, actually, I am,” I say. “I’ll be honest with you, though. I know nothing about how these things work. So I’m not sure what terminology even to use to explain what I’m trying to do—or want to do, rather.”

“Not a problem. Why don’t you tell me a little about your vision, and I’ll see where I can fill in the blanks?”

“Okay,” I say, swallowing. This is getting real. “My late father had an idea. He wanted to help people turn someday into now, meaning he wanted to help people turn their dreams into reality. He had so many things he wanted to do in life, but unfortunately, we didn’t have the money.”

And the money we did have, my parents spent on me, ensuring I had everything I needed … even if they had to go without. I didn’t even realize that until I was older, and I still feel guilty about that.

A wave of emotion hits my chest, settling a lump in my throat. I squeeze the bridge of my nose in hopes the burn will stop, and tears won’t gather in the corners of my eyes. Must be getting close to having my period or something.

“That’s lovely,” Ann says. “Do you intend to raise money publicly or fund this yourself?”

I look around. “Considering that I’m sitting in my office now so I can pay my mortgage, I’m not funding it myself.”

“Okay. Depending on your funding and activities, you’ll likely want to choose between a public charity and a private foundation. This is pretty straightforward, but there are rules to follow. For example, a charitable organization generally cannot pay to fulfill just anyone’s dreams. You’ll need a qualifying charitable purpose and meet eligibility criteria—but we can go into that later. And now that I have a better idea of what you’re doing, I’d love to meet with you and see if I can help you get the ball rolling.” She pauses. “If you would like my help, of course. I don’t mean to be presumptuous.”

My eyes widen. What?

I can’t fathom what just meeting with an attorney would cost. I haven’t even thought that far ahead. But something tells me I don’t need to speculate much to know I can’t afford Ms. Ann Walsh.

“I appreciate this very much,” I say slowly. “But I’m still in the very early stages of this. It’s practically still a concept.”

She laughs sweetly. “I understand. These things can feel enormous and overwhelming. But that’s my job—to help you break them down into smaller, more manageable chunks.”

“It’s not that I doubt you, ma’am. It’s more that I’m pretty sure I can’t afford you,” I say, cringing.

“Oh, that’s not a problem. My services are covered. It’s all been taken care of.”

Finn!

Tears flood my eyeballs, and I grit my teeth to keep them from falling.

“Why don’t I shoot you an email so you can reach out when you’re ready?” she asks. “I feel like I threw this in your lap, and I apologize for that.”

“No, don’t apologize,” I say, swiping a tissue from the pack in my desk. “This was very kind. Just unexpected.”

“What’s your email, Poppy?”

I give it to her, thank her for her call, and then place the phone beside my keyboard. But before I can gather my wits, a knock raps against the door. Shit.

I dab below my eyes and clear my throat. “Come in.”

Joshua steps into my office. His light-blond hair looks as if his fingers have combed through it a million times, and his tie is loose around his neck.

“Am I interrupting anything?” he asks, his brows pulled together.