Arthur looked at the red fruit, looked at Noah, and picked up his tray without a moment’s pause.

They went over to the long middle table under the tall windows and sat down next to each other on the bench.

Principal Vance stood by the tray return rack holding a fresh box of paper napkins.

He watched his nephew pick up the apple and take a big bite, then walked over to my spot at the counter.

“He didn’t leave one crumb on his plate today, Becky,” Principal Vance said, taking off his glasses to polish them on his tie.

“Arthur’s got a good appetite when the food’s warm,” I said.