And something changed.
My hands remembered what they loved doing.
A week later, a man from the hardware store walked inside after smelling fresh bread.
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He asked whether I could prepare two hundred buns for his daughter’s graduation celebration.
I almost said I wasn’t ready.
Instead, I reached for my notebook.
“When do you need them?”
The date was the morning after Grandpa’s ninety-day deadline.
I accepted the order.
For the first time in years, I was planning for something beyond my next paycheck.
Meanwhile, my family’s calls increased.
Derek offered to repay the money without signing the acknowledgment.
Marty explained that both conditions were required.
My mother continued refusing.
She didn’t want to admit publicly what she’d done.
As the deadline approached, Derek announced an online broadcast from Grandpa’s house.
He called it a family tribute.
