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The man reaches across the table and takes the woman’s hand. She rests a smile on him and my chest goes tight. It’s a new story for that table. One of many it will host over the course of its life.

There is nothing good about what happened to Elena, but that doesn’t mean something good can’t come out of it.

And maybe that’s the point. Maybe the best way to show how much we love my sister is to magnify her legacy and carry her light with us. Transform it into a beacon that reflects the person she was, not how her story ended.

Instead of hiding the haunted chairs in a dark corner, we can fill them with fresh hope and new beginnings.

A sad smile forms as I watch the young couple write their own story, never knowing how it connects to ours.

“Here you go,” Ailee says as she returns with two full bags and a drink carrier. She places them in a box on the counter between us. “You going to be okay carrying all of this?”

“I’ll be fine. Thank you. Here.”

I hand her a couple hundred dollars, and her eyes go wide. “Oh, sir, it’s only seventy-three?—”

“Keep it. Actually, wait. Can you do me a favor?”

She nods, eyes wide with shock.

I glance behind me, and seeing there’s no one in line, lean close. “Can you run the checks for everyone in the restaurant?”

“Wha…”

I pull out my credit card. “Here. I can wait.”

“Oh… Um… You… I guess we can do that.”

I return a patient smile. “Great. Be sure to add a thirty percent tip to all the checks. Also, don’t tell them who paid for it, okay?”

“What?” Her gaze darts to me. “Are you sure?”

“Very.”

She shoots a baffled look at me but turns to the register.

While she rings up the checks entered into the system, I study the young couple again. It needs to be anonymous because this isn’t about me. It’s bigger than that. It’s about changing the world one small act of kindness at a time.

Transforming tragedy into hope.

After paying the enormous bill, I balance the box in my arms, and leave Jemma’s with a brand new legacy.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

According to Eli’s text, the trailer is supposed to arrive around three.

I nod in the direction of Mara’s scowl on the way in, then stop and approach her at the desk when a thought rolls in.

“Need help with that?” she asks, eyeing my box of breakfast.

“No thanks, but I could use your help with something else.”

She raises a brow with an expression bordering on impatience, and the idea cements in my head.

How do you turn enemies into friends? Make them co-conspirators.

I adopt the most clandestine spy-movie vibe I can muster and lean close. “It’s kind of confidential. Is there somewhere we could talk?”

As hoped, her impatient look quickly becomes intrigued.