I called Grandma Dot.

She listened to everything. I could hear the café behind her. The coffee machine hissing. Mr. Henderson asking for more creamer.

When I'd finished, she was quiet for a moment.

“Abby, honey,” she said. “Let me ask you one question. Did you write that report so people would know your name? Or did you write it to save the store?”

I wiped my eyes.

“To save the store.”

“Then make sure the store gets saved,” she said. “That's the most important thing. Whoever's name is on the front.”

“But it's not fair, Grandma.”

“No, sweetheart. It isn't. But I've been running this café for forty-five years, and I'll tell you something I've learned. The truth has a way of coming in through the back door. Usually when nobody's expecting it.”

I heard her set down a plate.

“Do your job. Do it well. Be honest. And let the truth find its own way in.”

“Okay, Grandma.”

“And Abby?”

“Yes?”

“If that man calls you Indiana again, you tell him Indiana says hello.”