There's a framed page on the wall of the Corner Cup now. Right next to the 1994 newspaper review about the cinnamon rolls.

It's page thirty-one of my report. Grandma Dot asked for it.

She circled footnote fourteen in red pen. Then she had it framed.

Morning customer counts taken by the author from the window of the Corner Cup café, Carver Falls, run by the author's grandmother, Dorothy Turner, from 5 a.m. on June 14 and 15.

Customers ask her about it all the time. She tells them the whole story. It gets a little longer every time she tells it. In the latest version, I'm presenting to the President of the United States.

I don't correct her.

People ask me sometimes how I did it. How a summer intern from Indiana State got her name back from a senior analyst in front of the whole board.

The truth is, I didn't do anything clever. I didn't fight. I didn't shout. I didn't even have to say a word until somebody asked.

I just told the truth, all the way down to the smallest print.

Trevor changed the big words on the front page. He thought that was where the truth lived.

But the truth was hiding in the footnotes. In a café window, at five in the morning. With my grandmother, and a pot of coffee, and a notebook.

Counting.