At seventy-four, I thought I was simply paying to fix a leaky roof. I never imagined what the workers would uncover—or how it would turn my quiet life upside down.
My name is Evelyn, and I’ve been a widow for nearly ten years. My husband, Richard, passed unexpectedly, leaving me alone in our aging family home. With no children or close relatives nearby, my days were filled with gardening, baking, and volunteering at the local library.
But the nights were different. Too quiet. Too lonely. The steady drip of rain through the old roof was a constant reminder of the house’s decay—and my vulnerability.
After months of saving, I finally hired a small crew to repair the roof. They seemed rough around the edges, but among them was one young man named…