“Do you want it?” he asked.
Sadie studied the bear for a long time. Then she looked at the bag she was carrying, which contained a new bike helmet they had bought on sale.
“I could get it with my allowance,” she said.
“You could.”
“But I want to save for a bigger bike.”
“Also a good plan.”
She looked at the bear again. “Maybe someone else needs him more.”
George considered offering to buy it anyway. He wanted to see her face light up when she held it. He also recognized that she was making a choice of her own, not merely repeating the old words about being unable to afford things.
“We can come back tomorrow if you change your mind,” he said.
She nodded, satisfied. They continued toward the library, where she had signed up for a summer reading program.
The next day, George passed the shop on his way to work. The bear was still there. He went inside and asked the owner whether the toy was clean and suitable for a child. The owner said it had been donated by a local family and had been washed and checked before display.
George bought it.
He did not do so because Sadie had asked. She hadn’t. He bought it because sometimes a gift could be offered without representing a debt or a grand proof of love. Six dollars spent on a soft, ridiculous bear was not the same thing as ten dollars placed on a promoter’s table in hope of winning a thousand.
At home he placed it on Sadie’s bed with a small note: For the official committee on cotton candy and bears. From Dad.
When Sadie found it, she came running into the kitchen.
“You bought him!”
“He followed me home.”
“He has a weird ear!”
“I didn’t think you’d mind.”
She hugged the bear to her chest. Then she looked at George with a serious expression.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know.”
“Did it cost too much?”
“No. I checked the budget.”
She grinned. “Good. Because I love him.”
She named the bear Professor Mustard, a title George considered highly inappropriate for a stuffed animal with no visible academic achievements. Sadie declared that the crooked ear was proof of character and the professor would be attending all future committee meetings.
That evening the bear sat on a chair while they ate dinner. George looked at its lopsided face and remembered the giant prize hanging above the ring-toss booth. He had wanted to give Sadie something she could hold without shame or worry. For a while he had mistaken the money from a fight for the only way to do it.
Now the bear had cost six dollars, earned through hours at a desk and a hundred small choices that nobody had watched.
It was a ridiculous little object.
He was very glad he had bought it.
Chapter Forty-One: The Bill That Still Arrived
The truck broke down on the hottest afternoon of July.
It happened half a mile from Miller’s Hardware, just past the grain elevator, where a strip of shoulder was wide enough to pull off safely. George heard the engine hesitate, felt the power disappear, and coasted to the side of the road with the warning lights on. For a moment he sat behind the wheel staring at the temperature gauge, listening to the fan tick down.
The first thought was familiar: What is this going to cost?
The second was new: Who can help me solve it?
He called Paul, told him where the truck was, and arranged for a ride. Then he called a local towing company and requested an estimate. He did not try to walk on the bad knee in the heat. He remained inside the shaded cab with water in a bottle and the windows open until help arrived.
At the garage, the mechanic found a failed fuel pump and a cracked hose. The repair would cost several hundred dollars, a sum large enough to matter. George took the estimate home, spread it beside his budget, and worked through the options. He had some emergency savings now, though not enough to spend casually. He could use part of the fund, delay a nonessential purchase, and borrow a vehicle from Paul for two days if the store’s insurance arrangements allowed it. None of those options felt pleasant. All of them were better than a night in a cage.
Sadie found him at the table with the estimate.
“Another annoying letter?” she asked.
“An annoying repair bill.”
“Is the truck dying?”
“Not if we can help it.”
She pulled up a chair. “Should we sell Professor Mustard?”
George looked at her. The bear sat on her bed, one crooked ear leaning toward the pillow.
“No,” he said. “We are not selling your bear.”
“I was joking.”
“It’s a terrible joke.”
