All That Really Matters, Nicole Deese [best detective novels of all time .TXT] 📗

of several miracles in my lifetime.” I kissed her head. “You being one of them.”

As Molly’s lips angled for mine once again, a shrill scream cut through the silent room, jolting us both to our feet. Wren. Only whatever it was she was reacting to wasn’t out of fear, not unless fear involved jumping up and down and waking up fourteen of her sleeping housemates.

“We did it! We did it!”

One by one, every pair of eyes in the room moved to the black train that had once been stalled out at sixty-four percent . . . which had somehow now registered at more than one hundred percent.

Molly clasped her hands over her mouth as disbelief settled over her face. She looked at me with a mix of shock and awe as the live donation site displayed nine minutes to spare.

“What?” she asked aloud to no one in particular. “But how . . . how can that be? We were short over ninety thousand dollars!”

A blurry-eyed Monica answered from across the room, tapping on her screen and holding it up as she read. “Looks like someone just donated a hundred thousand dollars seven minutes ago.”

Molly twisted back to me, her expression far beyond overwhelmed.

“Silas . . .” was all she managed before she collapsed against me, her sob-laugh combo causing my own eyes to mist.

Holding her tight, I looked out at the awed, no-longer-sleepy faces of my residents and replied the only way I could. “Apparently, it was time for a miracle after all.”

41

Molly

A million questions pinged inside my skull at once as my phone vibrated from inside my back pocket. But it was impossible to concentrate, impossible to hold on to any one thought when the room was an explosion of cheers and joy in its rawest of forms. Someone had donated one hundred thousand dollars to our campaign in the last twenty minutes? But who?

I slid my phone out to investigate the name of the donor Monica had read from our campaign site—an A. S. R. Enterprises. Only the instant my screen brightened, the individual text boxes hovering from the top of my device stalled my swipe-happy fingers. Each sender’s name blurred into the next as I read them through.

Val

Molly!!! Congratulations!!! I’m freaking out!!!

Oh my goodness! Did you see Felicity Fashion Fix donated 5K this morning?!?

Clara

Jake and I are totally crying right now! Thank you for everything you’ve done for the house! We love you!

Miles

Guess this means I’m buying the fritters . . .

? Proud of you.

Val

Tucker just asked if he can eat ice cream for breakfast since we’re all celebrating! ?

Glo

I knew you’d do it, Kitten Heels!

Clicking out of the text messages and into my email inbox, my heart thudded in response to the question that hovered just beneath my fingertips. I gestured for Silas to follow me out of the happy chaos and into a place where we could focus.

Silas wasn’t far behind me. “What is it?”

I held my phone out between us, showing him the subject line on an email that had just been sent to me via our mystery donor. I clicked into it.

To: Molly McKenzie

From: A. S. R. Enterprises

Subject: Bridge The Gap Campaign

Molly,

Congratulations on reaching your campaign goal this morning! What a moving and inspiring video. My husband, Al, and I have wanted to do more for this specific group of young adults for some time now. Four years ago, we opened a one-for-one model business called Basics First, which provided backpacks to teenage foster kids in need of personal supplies like toiletries and hygiene products mostly. But to be honest, we’ve done very little with it since then. Between raising our own family and the high demands of our careers, it’s been a difficult vision to get any real traction on.

Your campaign jumpstarted some big conversations around our house last night, and we’re wondering if you and your team would be open to a brainstorming session regarding an opportunity that might dovetail nicely with what you’re already doing. Any chance you might have a few minutes for a video chat today?

XOXO,

Sophia (and Al) Richards

“Sophia Richards.” I breathed her name as Silas continued to stare at the email in my inbox. “Sophia Richards just donated a hundred grand to our program.”

Silas threaded his hands behind his neck, releasing a breath that reverberated in the empty lobby. “And it sounds like that’s not all she has planned.”

I bit my bottom lip in anticipation. “What do you think the opportunity is?”

“Molly,” he laughed. “Whatever I thought I knew about the business world went to the wayside the minute you joined our ranks. There’s no telling what she wants to brainstorm with you.”

As I hit the reply tab, I gasped at the time. “Silas! You need to call the Murphey Grant Foundation.”

“I already forwarded a screenshot of our final standing to my contact at the foundation, and another one to the trustee board for The Bridge.” His lips curled into a lopsided grin. “We secured the match, Molly. The expansion is actually going to happen.” He shook his head. “We did it.”

We did it. Three words that didn’t seem plausible, much less possible, even an hour ago. And yet . . . and yet here we were. We’d met our goal, secured the matching Murphey Grant, reached a total of a million dollars, and had finally received the green light to start the expansion Silas had dreamed of when he’d first acquired Fir Crest Manor five years ago.

“Just a little bit outrageous if you ask me,” I teased.

Silas laughed. “Just a bit.”

Whatever church meeting had been on Miles’s schedule for this morning must have ended early, because he was now standing in the lobby of Fir Crest Manor with Val, Tucker, and four dozen apple fritters from Deb’s Bakery.

“We brought donuts,” Tucker announced, looking as if he’d already consumed more sugar than his nine-year-old body could process. “Miles let me eat mine in his truck. Mom never lets me do that.”

Val looked past her son and opened her arms to me. “Congratulations! I’m