Leonard continued.
“I spent thirty years watching people walk into our stores with certificates my family sold. I don’t want the last memory people in Dayton have of Becket to be getting handed dead paper instead of a paycheck.”
“What are you doing?”
“All Blackidge employees affected by the December issue can redeem the original certificates at full printed value through December 31st.”
Evan leaned against the kitchen counter.
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
“That’s a lot of money.”
“Less than the reputation I’d rather keep.”
“Blackidge should reimburse you.”
“They’re welcome to try negotiating.”
Evan smiled.
Leonard added:
“This isn’t for Blackidge.”
“I understand.”
“It’s for the people holding the paper.”
“I understand.”
That Saturday, Evan and Sophie drove to the Union Road Becket location.
The store was smaller than Evan remembered.
Several aisles had been consolidated.
Large red clearance signs hung over furniture.
At customer service, the manager already knew about the program.
Evan handed over the certificates.
They scanned.
Valid.
For the first time.
Sophie watched.
“That feels weird.”
“Yes.”
“What are we buying?”
“A coffee maker.”
“Ours works.”
“Ours leaks.”
“It still makes coffee.”
“That is not the definition of working.”
She grinned.
They bought the coffee maker.
Drinking glasses.
Towels.
A small space heater.
A good chef’s knife Evan would ordinarily have talked himself out of.
Groceries.
Sophie stood in the electronics aisle for several seconds.
Evan noticed.
A drawing tablet sat on display.
Not the exact model she had shown him.