Teague smiled as the teens spread out along the stairs to the new building, all gangly legs and giggling. He watched one young boy in particular—Jesse—a tough fifteen-year-old who hung back from the others a touch, watching what was going on more than participating.

“Is that him?” Deanna asked as she leaned closer and pulled on Teague’s arm so his ear was near her mouth. He loved the combination of her mouth and his ear—her mouth and any part of him really.

“Yeah, the skinny one at the back.”

“But he agreed to do it?”

“Yep. And I’ve seen what he wrote. He’ll do great, and I’ll be right there with him.”

“You’re a good man, Teague Roberts,” she said, kissing him softly on the cheek.

He chuckled. “You just wait,” he answered before kissing her back, then making his way onto the steps with the teens.

He tapped the microphone at the lectern a couple of times, and the crowd that had assembled beneath the steps quieted down. He looked behind him first, at the special guests assembled—President Hampton, the First Gentleman, three US senators who held their seats courtesy of Derek Ambrose, and two Supreme Court justices—then he looked back out at the audience, finding that head of mahogany hair that kept him grounded at times like this. He grinned and began speaking.

“Thank you so much, everyone, for being here. Especially our distinguished guests, who all worked so hard to get this project off the ground.

“When I first mentioned this idea to my brother, he was thrilled. The idea that we could create a place where kids from neighborhoods like the one Roland and I grew up in could go not only after school or for a few hours, but overnight if they needed shelter, and during the day if they needed guidance. A place where there is always staff available, twenty-four seven, to advise, counsel, listen, or just hang out with. Staff who are like family, and often actually are family, because this is a place devoted to the kids but available to the entire neighborhood.

“So Roland loved this idea, and he asked one thing of me. He wanted these special places to offer something that had meant a great deal to him when we were growing up, and that he had missed dearly during his years of incarceration. He wanted there to be Sunday dinner.”

The crowd shifted, and Teague saw several tissues come out of pockets and purses. He could make this speech now, talk about Roland without breaking down, because of the building and the people standing behind him. He would never forget his brother, and now neither would anyone else.

“When we were growing up—” He smiled at his mother, who stood to one side, her arm around Deanna’s waist. “Momma never worked on Sunday nights. So no matter what, we would always have Sunday dinner. Now, some weeks, that consisted of pork and beans from a can, because that’s all the money we had—” He grinned, and the crowd chuckled. “But some Sundays, it was hamburgers or spaghetti. And no matter what the food was, the three of us were there for it, and we’d talk and laugh, and catch up on what had happened during the week. Roland loved those dinners, and so every Sunday here—“ He gestured to the building behind him. “We’ll have Sunday dinner. And we’ll always have some special guests. Some Sunday, you might come to eat and find the president here. Another it might be your favorite rapper. You’ll just have to stop by to see.” He winked at the audience and the kids behind him.

“Finally, my brother hoped that eventually we could put these centers in every poor neighborhood in every major city around the United States, and that’s what we’re going to do. This is the first, but there will be many more.”

Teague paused, taking a deep breath of the cool, crisp March air. His heart beat hard for a moment, and then he looked up at an old crow watching the assembly with his sharp eye. Teague smiled, and the crow bobbed its head at him.

“It gives me great pleasure to officially declare the very first Roland Smith Center for Community open to the public.”

The crowd cheered, and Teague and Kamal cut the wide satin ribbon that stretched across the front of the steps.

“Now,” Teague said, after moving back to the microphone. “I’ll let you all inside to check it out in just a moment, and one of our neighborhood sons is going to talk to you about how the kids around here see this place and want to use it.” He smiled at Jesse. “But first, I need to do something that’s been a long time coming. Will you all help me out?”

The crowd clapped and shouted their consent.

“Deanna, can you come up here for a moment?” Teague asked, grinning at his beautiful girlfriend.

She walked up the stairs, one eyebrow raised in question, past her father, who winked and smiled at her. Then Teague dropped down on one knee, and the crowd erupted into catcalls and cheers.

“This has been a long time coming, baby. We’ve been through enough to last us two lifetimes, but luckily, we’ve still got a lot of this one ahead. I love you more than I ever thought it was possible to love another human being. Will you please do me the honor of being my wife?”

Deanna rolled her eyes and leaned down to kiss him. “Yes, of course,” she said into his microphone. Then he stood, and they gave the crowd what it chanted for, a sweet kiss, followed by a beautiful diamond ring.

And as the tours of the new building began, Kamal approached them to offer his congratulations.

“That was nicely done,” he said, nudging Teague in the shoulder.

“I’d hope so, since you suggested it.” Both men laughed, and even the Secret Service agent nearby cracked a smile.

“Congratulations,” Kamal said to Deanna. “Welcome to the family.”

“Thank you,” she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“I have something else to congratulate you for,” Kamal added.

“More than the first Roland Smith Center and getting engaged? I’m not sure I can take anything else,” Teague answered.

“Well, you’re going to have to. The president would like for you to serve the country as a United States appeals court justice.”

Teague blinked at Kamal, then turned to Deanna, who shrugged, her eyes wide.

“What?”

“You heard me. It may be below the Supreme Court, but it’s a crucial position and a stepping stone to the Supremes. We were given notice yesterday that Justice Sorensen wants to retire next year. Don’t rule out becoming a Supreme Court justice quite yet.”

Deanna jumped up and down, holding on to Teague’s arm while she did.

Teague grinned. “Please tell the president that I would be honored to be her nominee.” Then he scooped up his bride-to-be, kissed her soundly on the lips, and marched toward the building that would keep his brother’s spirit alive. And right before he walked inside, he heard a crow cry out. When he turned to look, he saw that same wily old bird, and it winked before flying away over the treetops into the clear blue sky.