At my sister’s wedding dinner my dad introduced me to the groom’s family and said ‘This is our daughter… she makes a living cleaning toilets.’ My mom sighed and added, ‘We stopped expecting anything from her a long time ago.’ The groom’s mother slowly tilted her head, studying my face, then murmured, ‘Hold on… aren’t you the woman who—’

but from being pulled into attention I hadn’t chosen.

“It was a contract job,” I said evenly.

Patricia shook her head. “No. It was a rescue.”

Someone at the far end of the table whispered, “Whitmore Senior Care? That place?”

Patricia nodded. “Yes, that place. Emily arrived after ten at night in boots and coveralls with a team and a checklist thicker than continue reading …