“Caleb, what is all this?”

Chapter 18 — He Wasn’t Saving for a Bicycle

It was Sal who answered, gently.

He came over, a big weathered man wiping his hands on an apron stained with the day’s cooking, and there was no anger anywhere in his face, only a deep and sorrowful concern.

“Ma’am,” he said quietly, gesturing at the spread of papers.

“Your boy wasn’t saving for any matte-black bicycle.

He’s been coming in here every Saturday for six months, working the full shift, harder than grown men I’ve employed, and taking every dollar of his pay in cash.