Grandma sat down on our tailgate and told the truth. After Grandpa died, he had left debts she knew nothing about, and the feed store threatened to take her field. She was too proud to ask anyone for help. On the day she paid the bill, she told herself she would repay the children before the season ended, and then the weeks went by and shame made it impossible to face us.

Chief Maddox explained the envelope. In March, Grandma had come to the station and asked him, very quietly, to hold it until the children opened their own stand. She had sold her mother’s piano and a pair of silver candlesticks to raise the money, and she was afraid to hand it over herself. Inside was $2,880 in cash, the exact amount, and a note in her shaky handwriting.

Josie read the note aloud in a small voice. “To Wyatt and Josie. Every dollar, with my apology. You worked harder than I ever deserved.” Wyatt wiped his face with his sleeve and pretended he had dust in his eyes. I told Grandma that I had not been angry about the money, only about the way she had let the children believe a promise meant nothing. She nodded and said she understood that now.

The children took the cash, put it in the coffee can, and decided the stand would stay open all summer. Grandma worked beside them every Saturday, sorting the best ears, and she never touched the cash box. Glenn painted a new sign with three names on it, and the third one was hers. By September, Wyatt and Josie had a new coffee can, and this time Grandma carried it to the bank for them.