Ainsley had started working at the construction site in January. Nights. Weekends. Whenever she could squeeze in hours around school.
She told the foreman she was saving up for something important. He let her stay—probably because she worked hard… and maybe because he was just a good man.
On top of that, she had two other jobs.
One at a coffee shop.
Another walking dogs three mornings a week.
Every dollar she earned, she kept separate.
In an envelope labeled:
“For Dad.”
Then she slid another envelope across the table toward me.
Clean. White.
My full name written on the front in her handwriting.
My hands trembled as I picked it up.
She watched me the same way she used to watch me wrap her birthday presents—holding her breath, full of quiet anticipation.
