I presented for forty minutes.

I was terrified for the first five. Then I forgot to be scared, because the board kept asking questions, and I knew every answer.

Why do small-town customers shop so early? What time do the trucks leave the warehouse? How much fresh food is thrown away in Carver Falls each week? What happens to a town when its only grocery store closes?

That last question came from Henry.

I told him about Mrs. Patterson, who's eighty-four and walks to the store every morning with her little cart. About the farmers who come in at six. About the Corner Cup, and Main Street, and the one stoplight.

When I finished, the board voted.

The thirty stores would stay open. The delivery routes would change, starting with a pilot in ten towns that autumn. Carver Falls would be first.

Then Linda Prescott stood up.

“Before we move on,” she said, looking at Trevor, who was sitting very still at the side of the room, “the promotion I announced on Monday is withdrawn. HR will be in touch with Mr. Banks this afternoon.”

She turned to me.

“And Abby. I owe you an apology. I put another person's name on your work in front of the whole company. I should have asked more questions. I will next time.”

I thought about Grandma Dot.

The truth had come in through the back door. Right at the back of the boardroom, on a plastic chair.