Chapter 2

What a fine phrase. He wouldn't press charges.

A few short words, and he'd nailed me to the pillar of shame, as if I really had done something I couldn't bear to have known.

Make an example of one to warn the rest. He'd smeared my clean name, and frozen my heart clean through in the process.

I gave my daughter one long look and swallowed every word I might have said.

I didn't fight, I didn't make a scene. I quietly took out my phone, scanned Clyde James's payment code, and sent the twenty grand over.

The moment the transfer went through, Clyde smiled.

"Mom, that's more like it. An elder should be thinking about her kids, not sitting around all day trying to bleed them dry."

"We fined you so you'd learn a lesson. Watch yourself from now on. Don't do it again."

Then he raised his phone, turned to face every worker in the place, and said loudly,

"You all see that? Anyone who takes something from this restaurant, no matter who they are, no matter the relationship, gets fined all the same."

"Even my own mother-in-law. She took one soda today, and it's still a twenty-grand fine."

"So next time somebody tries it, don't blame me for not being sentimental about it."

The few servers glanced at one another. Nobody said a word.

My daughter checked the time and announced it flatly.

"All right, that's the end of the shift. Everyone head home."

The staff filed out one after another.

Then it was just the few of us left in the restaurant.

Anna saw my face and softened her tone a little.

"Come on, Mom. The staff were all right there. I had to keep it professional. I couldn't play favorites with you."

"Once we close up, the family can go out and eat together. Don't stay upset."

And she reached for my arm the way she used to when she was small, coaxing, playful.

I eased my arm gently out of her reach.

"No."

"You all go."

They were the family, after all.

I was just a thief who owed twenty grand for one soda.

I couldn't have gotten a bite of that dinner down.

Belinda Lambert rolled her eyes at me and sneered.

"You're not actually sitting there feeling sorry for yourself, are you?"

"We're the elders. We're supposed to have a spirit of self-sacrifice. While we can still move around, helping the young ones and chipping in a little money is only right."

"Say you really did take the restaurant's soda. Then you deserved the fine. And even if you'd just handed those kids twenty grand for nothing, so what? You have to go making a sour face over a little thing like this?"

Spirit of self-sacrifice?

I looked at Belinda, and I suddenly wanted very much to ask her where exactly hers had shown.

Was it in the three years she'd loafed around and never once come to help at the restaurant?

Or in the way she brought her old card-game friends by to eat and drink for free every few days, bossing the servers around until everyone was fed up?

Or maybe in how she'd lose money at the card table and come straight to the register to grab cash so she could go back and keep gambling?

If that was what she called a spirit of self-sacrifice, then no, I really hadn't measured up to her.

I looked at her and nodded.

"You're right. It was my fault."

My fault was that I'd held this daughter too dear.

So dear that I'd lost myself.

So dear that I'd given everything.

Lucky for me, there was still time.

This twenty grand was a new beginning.