Bill Stanton still had to organize the kitchen schedule. Aisha had to train the relevant staff, and Nora spent another week revising a two-page instruction sheet until it could be understood by a person who had barely slept.
The first Family Table vouchers were issued on a cold Thursday in January.
The first week brought mistakes. One night employee didn't know where the packets were stored, another forgot to record a voucher, and a family received the wrong dietary information until the process was corrected before the food was handed over.
Nora kept a notebook of every problem. Bill, to her surprise, began adding notes in the margins, mostly in capital letters.
By the end of the first month, the program was running more smoothly. It remained small, but dozens of meals had reached people waiting through surgeries, emergency admissions, and difficult nights with relatives they loved.
One evening a father with two children came to the counter and said, awkwardly, that a nurse had told him he could ask for a meal. Nora gave him the options, let him choose without explaining himself, and accepted the voucher as routinely as any other form of payment.
After he left, Bill stood beside her for a while.
"The kids ate everything," he said.
"They were hungry."
"I noticed."
It was as close to an apology as he was likely to manage.
Upstairs, Simone's recovery moved much more slowly than any committee schedule.
She spent weeks in rehabilitation, where learning to sit steadily, remember instructions, and form words could take an entire afternoon. Some days she recognized a familiar song immediately; other days, fatigue turned simple questions into obstacles that left her frustrated and tearful.
Andre learned not to finish every sentence for her. Lila learned that a pause did not always mean her mother had forgotten, and the three of them learned to celebrate small gains without pretending the hard parts were over.
By spring, Simone could walk short distances with assistance and speak in brief phrases. The school arranged for her to visit when she felt ready, but returning to a classroom full time was still a distant possibility.
One Saturday, Andre brought the family to the hospital for a follow-up appointment. Simone walked slowly beside him with a cane, her right hand resting briefly on his forearm whenever she needed to steady herself.
Lila wore the yellow cardigan, although the sleeves had grown a little short. She spotted Nora first and ran across the cafeteria with the confidence of a child who finally knew she was allowed to be happy.
"Miss Nora!"
Nora crouched in time to catch her hug.
Andre followed, looking rested in a way Nora had almost forgotten was possible. He still had worries, but the terror that had once lived permanently behind his eyes was no longer the only thing there.
Simone approached the counter and studied Nora's face.
"You fed them," she said slowly.