The auctioneer points. “One thousand—do I hear eleven?”
I should stop. This is already more than I planned to spend.
This is already?—
“Eleven!” Someone else jumps in.
Relief and disappointment twist together in my chest.
“Do I hear twelve?”
I exhale and argue with myself.
You don’t need this.
You don’t need him.
You—
My paddle lifts again.
“Twelve.”
Elizabeth grabs my arm. “Kathryn.”
“It’s for charity,” I hiss.
“You said that already.”
“It’s agoodcharity.”
The numbers climb again.
Thirteen.
Fourteen.
My heart is pounding now, adrenaline mixing with recklessness.
“Two thousand!”
The room falls silent.
The auctioneer smiles. “Do I hear twenty-one-hundred?”
No one speaks. My pulse roars in my ears.
“Going once…”
Oh my God.
“Going twice…”
What am I doing?
“Sold.”
The gavel comes down.
