Chapter 1 - Yesterday’s Bread
The bell above the bakery door gave a tired little jingle when Noah pushed it open.
His bare feet were gray from the summer pavement.
Behind him, his seven-year-old sister Lily stepped carefully onto the cool tile floor.
She held the back of his faded shirt as if letting go might make him disappear.
The bakery smelled like butter, cinnamon, warm sugar, and everything they had been trying not to think about all morning.
Noah stopped in front of the glass display case.
Rows of golden rolls and glossy pastries seemed almost unreal.
Lily swallowed hard.
Noah opened his hand.
Four quarters.
Three dimes.
Two nickels.
Seven pennies.
He counted them again.
Then once more.
The cashier behind the counter watched him with a tightening mouth.
Her name tag read ERICA.
Noah looked at a wooden rack near the back where day-old loaves had once been marked down.
“Ma’am, do you have any of yesterday’s bread left?”
Erica glanced at his dirty knees.
Then she looked at Lily’s tangled hair.
“You two can’t stay in here.”
Noah blinked.
“I just asked about the bread.”
Erica pushed a metal baking tray onto the counter with a sharp scrape.
“If you’re looking for handouts, there’s a shelter three blocks south.”
Lily lowered her eyes.
Noah’s fingers closed around the coins.
“We weren’t asking for anything free.”
His voice trembled, but he did not look away.
“We have money.”
Erica sighed as though his dignity were another inconvenience.
“It isn’t enough.”
Noah stared at the coins.
He had known that was possible.
Still, hearing it hurt differently.
He reached for Lily’s hand.
“Come on.”
They turned toward the door.
A deep voice came from behind the swinging kitchen door.
“Hold on.”
Everyone stopped.
An older man walked out carrying a fresh loaf wrapped in brown paper.
Flour dusted his forearms.
His silver hair was combed back, and his tired blue eyes moved from Erica to the children.
He placed the loaf into a paper bag.
Then he walked around the counter.
Noah straightened.
“We can’t pay for that.”
“I know.”
The old baker held out the bag.
Noah shook his head.
“We don’t take things we didn’t earn.”
The baker studied him for a long moment.
Then something softened in his face.
“I’m not giving it away.”
Noah frowned.
The baker placed the warm bag into his hands.
“That bread already has a home.”
Lily looked up.
“Where?”
The old man smiled.
“With you.”
For several seconds, neither child moved.
Then Lily hugged the paper bag to her chest.
Warmth seeped through it into her thin arms.
Noah looked at the baker.
“Why?”
The man glanced toward the empty chair beside the front window.
“Because someone once did the same for me.”
Noah wanted to ask who.
He never got the chance.
A woman outside suddenly screamed.
Then the sound of shattering glass exploded across the street.
The old baker turned toward the window.
Noah followed his gaze.
May you like
A delivery truck had jumped the curb.
And it was sliding straight toward the bakery.
