"How did you find me?"
"So he did what he could," the lawyer continued. "He made a will."
Carter nodded toward the box.
"Take another look inside."
I looked down at it again. My hands shook.
A cashier's check.
I stared at it, not fully understanding what I was looking at.
Then my eyes locked onto the number.
$62,000.
My breath caught.
"Take another look inside."
I looked up at Carter, thinking there had to be some mistake.
"This… this isn't—"
"It is," he said gently. "Every dollar he saved."
I shook my head, my hands trembling as I picked it up.
"No… I don't understand."
The lawyer pulled out a folded document and set it beside the check.
"Arthur left instructions. He wanted this to go to you. No conditions."
I swallowed hard. "Why?"
Carter didn't hesitate.
"He said it was never his money. Arthur believed it belonged to the moment that changed his life."
"No… I don't understand."
I burst into tears and couldn't stop crying!
Not because of the amount, but because of its implications.
That $10, the one I thought I couldn't afford to give, hadn't disappeared.
It had stayed with Arthur for almost three decades.
I sat there, holding the check in one hand and the notebook in the other, trying to make sense of it.
"I only spoke to him for less than a minute," I said quietly.
The lawyer gave a small nod. "Sometimes that's enough."
