I reached the hospital in twenty minutes. Dad had collapsed with chest pains but was stable, and he asked to see me alone. He admitted he had shouted at me because he was ashamed. He knew Camille’s plans would hurt the store, but he had wanted to test her, and his pride had kept him from stopping it. The deed in the safe was his real decision, made when I first took over.

The letter said he had never been able to thank me, and that the store should belong to the one who kept it alive. He wanted me to have it even if I never forgave him. I sat beside his bed for a long time, then told him I was not angry anymore, only tired. He squeezed my hand.

Camille arrived that evening, shaken, and admitted the store was losing money. She apologized and asked to learn from me. I agreed, on one condition: she would start on the sales floor and work her way up. Within a month, Gene, Loretta, and the others returned to Dalton’s, and we kept Hank’s store as a second location.

Dad recovered slowly. By spring, he sat in his old chair by the key-cutting machine, which I had bought back for eighty dollars. Walter’s mower was repaired and returned, and Dad delivered it himself.