His coat was too small at the wrists.
Rain had darkened the shoulders.
He kept one hand in his pocket and the other wrapped around a folded piece of notebook paper.
Henry glanced toward the street.
“Your mother coming in?”
Caleb shook his head.
“You here for something?”
The boy approached the counter and placed the folded paper down carefully.
“My mom said I should give you this.”
Henry opened it.
Mr. Bennett,
I am sorry. My hours were cut again. I cannot pay the rest of our account Friday. I understand if you cannot let us buy anything else until I catch up. I will pay what I owe. I just need a little more time.
Teresa Reed
Henry looked at the ledger.
The Reed family owed thirty-seven dollars and fourteen cents.
It was not a large amount to most people.
To Teresa Reed that week, it might as well have been three thousand.
Caleb stared at the floor.
“She told me to say she's not trying to steal from you.”
Henry folded the note once.
“I know that.”
“She said she is embarrassed.”
“She doesn't need to be.”
The boy nodded but did not move.
Henry watched him for another moment.
There was something wrong with his face.
Not illness exactly.
Hollowness.
The kind a parent noticed faster than a businessman.
“Caleb.”
The boy looked up.
“What did you eat today?”
Caleb answered too quickly.
“I'm fine.”
“That was not the question.”
Silence.
“Breakfast?”
The boy's lips pressed together.
“Lunch?”
Nothing.
Henry did not ask a third time.
He grabbed one of the wooden produce baskets stacked beneath the counter and walked toward the grocery shelves.
Two loaves of sandwich bread went in first.
Then eggs.
Milk.
Rice.
Canned beans.
Apples.
Cheese.
Peanut butter.
Carrots.
Oatmeal.
A small package of ground beef Henry had planned to take home himself.
Caleb followed in alarm.
“Mr. Bennett, no.”
Henry kept moving.
“My mom said we can't add anything else.”
“We are not.”
“But we owe you already.”
“I heard you.”
Henry added potatoes and a bag of flour.
Caleb stepped in front of the basket.
“Please stop. She'll be mad at me.”
Henry finally looked at him.
“She won't be mad at you.”
“She said we're supposed to pay.”
“She will.”
“When?”
Henry considered the question.
“Whenever she can.”
The boy looked confused.
Henry crouched.
“Listen to me. You don't borrow food from me.”
“But—”
“You buy food when you have money. When you don't have money, you still have to eat.”
Caleb's eyes filled with tears.
He turned away quickly.