She looked at him curiously.
“What’s your name?”
“Adam Miller.”
Her expression changed.
“Adam?”
He nodded.
“My father told me about you.”
Adam felt suddenly nervous.
But the woman smiled warmly.
“He said you grew up to become a lawyer.”
“I did.”
She came around the counter and shook his hand.
“That story changed my father, you know.”
Adam blinked.
“What do you mean?”
She looked toward the bakery shelf.
“After your court hearing, he started keeping a small supply of food for families who were struggling. People could take what they needed and pay later if they were able.”
Adam stared at her.
“He never told me.”
“He wasn’t the kind of man who talked about his good deeds.”
She paused.
“He made mistakes too. He could be stubborn. But he learned something that day.”
Adam glanced around the store.
Near the entrance was a small wooden cabinet.
A sign hung above it.
