own the property?”
“No.”
“Who does?”
“Claire’s foundation.”
I turned toward him.
“What foundation?”
“The Margaret House Foundation.”
My breath caught.
He glanced at me.
“Claire named it after your mother.”
I stared through the windshield.
For twenty-six years, my mother had been Margaret Hale. A tired woman who worked too much, slept too little, and avoided questions about the past.
Now I was learning that someone had built a foundation in her name.
“What does it do?”
“It owns several small properties. Transitional housing, community kitchens, educational grants.”
“Why
