about it. About Esther’s dreams. About the life we’d planned.
“I’m going to travel,” I said. “Every place we ever talked about seeing. And I’m going to set up a scholarship fund in her name for young people who want to study finance. Esther’s Gift, I’ll call it.”
Thorne smiled. “She would have loved that.”
Today I’m seventy-three years old. I’ve been continue reading …