Seven Empty Deposit Envelopes Showed What Was Happening At Carters Diner
“My back is just acting up a bit today,” Henry said. “But Troy was kind enough to give me an extra break.”
“He seems real friendly today,” Carter said.
“He is a good boy,” Henry said, looking down at his key ring. “It is nice when the young folks notice you’re still trying.”
Carter looked at the small cardboard box of clothes resting on the back seat of the Buick, right next to a folded wool blanket and a plastic water jug.
“You’ve been spending a lot of time in this car, Henry,” Carter said, keeping his voice quiet and gentle.
Henry turned the rusty key over in his palm, his thumb tracing the worn metal teeth.
“I had to sell my bungalow on Elm Street back in September,” Henry said, his voice dropping so low that Carter had to lean closer to the window. “The bills from St. Jude’s Hospital just kept coming after my wife passed. A man does what he has to do to keep his name clean.”
Carter felt a cold tightness in his throat. He looked down at his own gold wedding band, realizing how easily a life’s work could be stripped away by a few bad months.
