We did not divide Lark's share among ourselves. Mae placed it in a temporary estate reserve while we searched. The archive accepted the Cedar Lunch records only after the workers reviewed the description. We replaced Grandma's solo-founder label with a factual account of the team and the grocery dispute. The revised note felt small beside the money, yet Mrs. Bell read it three times and corrected the spelling of Celeste's maiden name.

The payments went out privately. Celeste's grandson enrolled in his program. Mrs. Bell bought a chair that supported her back. The estate of a deceased worker funded a bench outside the community center. Elian used his reduced inheritance to repair only the dangerous half of his roof and laughed when I admitted doing the same. Nora applied for a paid bakery apprenticeship instead of waiting for us to fund one outright.

I kept Grandma's cedar desk after paying the estate its appraised value. The empty drawer sat in my kitchen while I sorted recipe cards by handwriting. I discovered that many dishes attributed to Elsie carried initials from the other women. We asked permission before identifying anyone in the archive. Recipes without clear consent remained unattributed. Correcting one kind of erasure did not give us permission to expose everything.

At the archive opening, six check facsimiles rested beneath the group photograph. The seventh space held only a note that its recipient remained unidentified and her share preserved. Near closing, an elderly visitor touched the glass beside the empty birdcage. She said nobody had called her Lark since the morning she left Cedar Lunch. Then she turned toward me, and I recognized the hand from the photograph resting on her cane. For one long second, the busy gallery seemed to narrow around the two of us and that forgotten name.