"You've become more important to this company than I am."
Michael laughed.
"Don't say that."
"It's true."
Arthur shook his head.
"You understand people."
Michael looked around.
"I understand hunger."
Arthur smiled.
"Sometimes that's more valuable."
Lily turned eight.
Arthur hosted a small birthday party.
There were balloons.
Cake.
Music.
Dozens of children from the community.
Lily ran through the ballroom laughing.
Michael watched from the doorway.
Arthur stood beside him.
"She looks happy."
Michael nodded.
"She is."
Arthur smiled.
"Do you remember the first day?"
Michael looked at him.
"How could I forget?"
"You asked for yesterday's bread."
"And you gave us everything."
Arthur shook his head.
"No."
Michael frowned.
Arthur pointed toward Lily.
"You gave me something."
"What?"
"Another chance to keep my promise."
Michael looked confused.
"What promise?"
Arthur smiled.
"Years ago, I promised your father that if I ever became wealthy, I'd make sure his kindness didn't die with him."
Michael's eyes filled.
"You kept it."
Arthur shook his head.
"We kept it."
Lily ran toward them.
"Daddy!"
Michael knelt.
"What?"
"Grandpa Arthur said I can have another piece of cake."
Michael looked at Arthur.
"You did?"
Arthur smiled.
"It's her birthday."
Michael laughed.
"Fine."
Lily hugged him.
Then Arthur.
For a moment, nobody said anything.
The old man who once slept behind a bakery.
The young father who once begged for yesterday's bread.
And the little girl who had been hungry.
Three lives connected by one loaf of bread.
Ten years later, Michael stood behind the counter of the Bellmont.
He no longer looked like the exhausted father from that first night.
He wore a dark suit.
His hair had begun to gray.
But his eyes were the same.
A young man entered the restaurant.
He was thin.
His clothes were worn.
A little girl slept in his arms.
Michael froze.
The scene felt familiar.
The young man approached.
"Excuse me."
Michael smiled.
"How can I help you?"
The man swallowed.
"Do you have any bread left from yesterday?"