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Chloe beamed, a small, radiant dimple appearing in her left cheek.
The mother walked to the front register, her steps slow, slightly dragging, her shoulder dipping under the weight of the tote bag. She placed four one-dollar bills, three quarters, and two nickels onto the glass counter beside the toothpick dispenser. The total for the child’s plate had been four dollars and twenty cents with tax. She had left an eighty-cent tip.
She didn’t wait for Brenda to return with a receipt. She took Chloe by the hand, pushed open the heavy aluminum door, and stepped out into the freezing sleet.
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Arthur stood up immediately.
He didn’t wait for his overcoat to settle over his tweed sport jacket. He grabbed the heavy plastic bags Brenda had just placed on the counter, laid two crisp one-hundred-dollar bills beside his cold ribeye, and nodded to the startled waitress.
“Keep the change, Brenda,” Arthur murmured. “Merry Christmas.”
