Dorothea Puentes's Arc

Chapter 9 of 9

Dorothea sat at her desk Friday evening and laid out everything she'd prepared. The medication binder sat open, each page labeled with a tenant's name and schedule. Her bank records filled a neat folder beside it. The menu plan for next week's dinners covered a single typed sheet. She ran her finger down each document, checking for mistakes. Nothing was out of place. The social worker's visit was four days away, and she had done everything right. She closed the binder and stacked the papers in order. When he walked through her door, he would see a woman who knew exactly what she was doing. She locked the office and walked to the kitchen. Tomorrow she'd bake cookies for the tenants and make sure the front room looked welcoming. But tonight, the work was finished. She had built her case, piece by piece, and now all she could do was wait. The doubt in his voice from their first meeting still echoed in her mind, but she pushed it away. Facts would speak louder than suspicion. She turned off the light and headed upstairs, ready for what came next. Saturday morning, she hired a man to sweep the street in front of the boarding house. He arrived at eight with a broom and dustpan, dressed in a clean uniform. She watched from the concrete stoop as he worked his way down the sidewalk, clearing away dirt and leaves. Two neighbors walked past and nodded their approval. One stopped to chat, saying how nice the block looked. Dorothea smiled and offered them a seat on the stoop. They sat together for twenty minutes, talking about the weather and the upcoming summer. When they left, she went inside and pulled out a hand-stitched yard flag she'd ordered weeks ago. The fabric showed simple images—a house, a plate of food, a pair of hands held together. She carried it outside and hung it from the post by the front steps. The banner moved slightly in the breeze, visible to anyone passing by. She stepped back and looked at her boarding house. The swept street, the welcoming stoop, the flag that announced what she offered here. Everything was in place. The social worker would arrive Tuesday morning, and he would see a home that ran with order and care. Her tenants were safe, fed, and looked after. The neighborhood knew her as someone who kept things clean and proper. She had prepared every detail, answered every question before it could be asked. The doubt would end soon. She walked back inside, closed the door behind her, and felt ready.