“Welcome,” Sara said. “I’ve enjoyed my time with Ella. And I’d like a chance to speak with you, as well. So—” she glanced at Ella “—does your ex-husband have a name?”
Brett looked at Ella. She held his gaze. She was in control—this was her show and the hour wasn’t up—but she was going to leave it up to him how he played it from there.
His gaze bored into hers and she watched as the light dimmed, as moisture started to appear, and then something changed. Something entered Brett’s gaze that she didn’t recognize.
“He does,” Brett said. His chin tightened. His jaw got stiff. “I’m Brett Ackerman.”
Not one person reacted, other than out of the same polite interest he’d given them. They were strangers, there if he cared to join them. If not, they’d move on.
Ella held her breath. He could leave it at that. No one would ever know who’d visited them.
He could continue to hide away in the safe home he’d created for himself someplace deep inside. But it was a home he’d have to live in alone for the rest of his life.
If he turned away now, he was committing himself to a lifetime of solitary confinement.
And leaving her and their child out in the cold... Her panicked thoughts were interrupted when Brett spoke again.
“I’m pleased to meet you, Sara, Lynn, Maddie...everyone. What Ella needs...the reason she’s called us all here together today, is because she needs me to tell you...that... I am the founder of The Lemonade Stand.”
* * *
THE ENTIRE ROOM went silent. Brett could hear every breath he took. Could feel the beating of his heart in his chest.
Sara Havens, for all of the glowing reports he’d read about her ability to handle any situation with grace and calm, gaped at him. Lynn Bishop, a woman he’d pictured as much larger and sterner than the slender, graceful, strawberry blonde she was, was the first to speak.
“You’re our mysterious founder?” She was one of the Stand’s senior employees. Next to Lila McDaniels and Sara.
“I am.”
He could feel the stares all around him. The residents. He’d recognized every single one of them. By name. By story. Not by their faces.
“Ella?” Sara was looking between the two of them, the question tugging at every sinew of her body.
“Yes.” Just the one word, but Brett had a feeling she’d told Sara far more than he was comfortable with.
He didn’t like how the woman looked at him. As if she knew everything about him. And had expectations. As if she wanted to hug him and punch him all at once.
But perhaps that was just his take on th
e situation.
A low buzz started in the room full of people. His instinct was to leave. As quickly as possible.
For a moment he thought he might need a seat. Or an ambulance. He couldn’t breathe all that well.
Fresh air was all he needed. Space.
To be left alone.
“You are him.” Maddie stepped forward, sounding as though she had a couple tongues in her mouth.
She’d been deprived of oxygen at birth, was neurologically challenged, Brett knew. He also knew that the young woman had been married right out of high school to a man who’d kept her locked in a room and beaten her on and off over the next decade.
“I want to thank you for paying for The Lemonade Stand,” she said, enunciating with obvious effort. “I am very happy here, and if you did not do this, I would not be happy. Or have a baby.”
“I’m happy, too.” A tall man, also obviously challenged, stepped forward, putting his arm around Maddie. “I am in love and have a wife and so my brother can be happy, too.” Darin Bishop—Brett would have known even if the man hadn’t introduced himself.
And so it went. One by one people came forward again, thanking Brett. Telling him how he’d saved their lives.