I nod.
“And you’re here early? Helping with setup and contributing to society at large?” She gasps dramatically. “Are you feeling okay? Should I call a doctor?”
“Very funny.”
“I’m just saying, this is quite the transformation. You almost smiled a minute ago, and I thought I was going to spit out my grape juice.”
I shoot her a scowl, just to prove I still can, but it doesn’t last long. “It’s easy to be in a good mood when I’m supporting a good cause.”
“Well said,” she agrees, and there’s a slight softening in her tone. “And Heather really appreciates it. All of you guys showing up—it means a lot to her.”
“Showing up and writing a check is the easy part. She does the real work. The hard work, day in and day out.”
“She absolutely does.” Margo takes a sip and gives me a funny look from the corner of her eye, but doesn’t say anything else for a few seconds. “Try to keep her from stressing out too much if you talk to her before I do. I should go find Noah before he eats all the appetizers.”
She heads off into the crowd, and I go back to watching Heather work the room with that same focused energy she had during setup.
After about twenty minutes of mingling, I see Heather make her way to the front of the room where there’s a small podium and microphone set up. She taps it once, then twice, and the conversations around the room gradually quiet down.
“Good evening, everyone.” Her voice is clear, but I can hear the slight nervous tremble in her tone. “Thank you all so much for being here tonight. I want to tell you a little bit about why New Horizons matters, and why your support is so important.”
The room goes completely silent. Even April, who has been talking Theo’s ear off near the greenhouse windows, turns to watch her mom.
“Almost ten years ago, I found myself in a situation I never thought I’d be in.” Her grip tightens on the sides of the podium, but her voice stays steady. “I was a new mother, and I’d just left a relationship that had become unsafe. I had no money, no family nearby, and nowhere to go. More than once, my daughter and I spent the night in my car.”
My chest tightens. I knew some of this from our conversations, but hearing her say it out loud to a room full of people—the vulnerability it takes to open up like this just hits differently.
“Thankfully, someone at the food bank told me about a shelter. New Horizons.” She pauses, and I can see her blinking back tears. “They gave us a bed, a hot meal, and the kind of safety I hadn’t felt in way too long. But more than that, they gave usresources. They helped me find a job, secure housing, and start rebuilding our lives. They gave us hope when I didn’t think we had any left.”
Several people in the audience are wiping at their eyes now, including Margo.
“I’m standing here today because of the work this shelter does,” Heather continues, her voice stronger now. “And I’m so proud to give back to an organization that saved my life and my daughter’s life. But there are more women out there who need help. More families who need safety and resources and hope. That’s why we’re here tonight—to make sure New Horizons can continue this vital work.”
The room erupts in applause. People are on their feet, and I’m clapping harder than I have in a long time. Pride and respect for this incredible, brave, resilient woman fill my chest until it almost hurts.
She meets my eyes across the room, and I can still see so much emotion there. I give her a small nod, hoping she understands what I’m trying to convey.
You did good. I’m proud of you. You’re amazing.
She smiles, just a little, then turns back to the crowd as the applause dies down.
“Now, I know that was heavy, so I thought we’d do something fun,” she says, clasping her hands together and smiling even wider, clearly trying to lighten the mood. “We’ve set up a karaoke machine in the corner, and I’d love for some of you to share your talents with us. Who knows? Maybe we’ll discover Denver’s next great singer.”
There’s polite laughter, but I can see people exchanging glances, and I can’t blame them for not wanting to be the first to volunteer. The silence stretches out, and Heather’s smile becomes a little more stiff and a little more desperate.
“Come on,” and there’s an edge of panic creeping into her voice now. “It doesn’t have to be good. It’s all in fun. Anyone?”
More silence. More uncomfortable glances.
I can see the exact moment she starts to spiral, wondering if this whole idea was a mistake, if the event is going to fall flat, if she’s failed somehow.
Fuck that.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I start walking toward the front of the room.
“I’ll do it.”
Every head in the room turns to look at me, and Heather’s eyes go wide with surprise.
