He stopped.
“Why did you do that?”
He looked embarrassed now.
“My job?”
“Yes.”
“You could lose it.”
He shrugged.
“My mom would've done the same.”
Margaret studied him.
“Your mother sounds formidable.”
Sam smiled faintly.
“She is.”
“What does she do?”
“Nothing right now.”
His smile faded.
“She’s sick.”
Margaret softened.
“I'm sorry.”
“She needs treatment. A lot of it.”
“You work here to help with that?”
“I work everywhere.”
He gave a short laugh.
“Double shifts here. Delivery work sometimes. Anything.”
Margaret looked toward the restaurant.
“You could have stayed quiet.”
“My mom taught me something.”
“What?”
“No matter how little you have, you never have too little to be kind.”
Margaret felt something tighten in her throat.
“She sounds remarkable.”
“She is.”
Sam looked toward the kitchen.
“I'll get your tea myself.”
“You don't need to.”
“I know.”
That mattered.
Ten minutes later, Sam returned with tea.
Then breakfast.
Hot.