I didn’t want to give him any large amount of money. I began considering what amount would be big enough to satisfy a homeless man and small enough to leave me with food and gas money. I knew I could always ask the boss for more, but I didn’t want him asking questions, prying into my habits, and watching me too closely. I had a twenty crumpled in my pocket along with some change. I dug it out. I handed over the whole lot and held up my hands as if to say, ‘I’m broke.’

The homeless man frowned at the bill and change and scrutinized me under bushy, graying eyebrows. He pocketed it. Then he reached into a satchel lying beside him on the bench. Out came a manilla envelope.

I took it and opened it. The papers were there, and they were emblazoned with the law office heading. I nodded at the man, stood, pocketed the envelope in my duster, waved good-bye, and headed for my car.

Whew. Now to think about presenting this to the family who would fight and fight hard to keep a little girl that wasn’t theirs.