Derek fulfilled the agreement. His handwritten apology appeared beside the host stand, openly admitting that he had mocked an eighty-six-year-old customer and that his behavior was cruel and wrong.

When I visited, the restaurant was noticeably busier. Customers were presenting their coupons, and Derek greeted them respectfully. One woman handed him a coupon that had expired nine days earlier. He examined it carefully before declaring it perfectly acceptable.

The Wednesday seniors’ lunch began in September. It sold sixty-one meals during its first week and more than a hundred by Halloween. Derek hired Lorraine Becker, a retired school cook who had once worked at Lincoln Elementary while Mother taught there.

On opening day, the original stool returned to its place at the counter. A small brass plate had been attached to its footrest: RAY & DOT. FIRST STOOL. 1962.

Mother stood quietly before it. Derek explained that he had repaired its damaged leg.

“Good,” she replied.

Then she sat down, placed her purse on the counter, and ordered her usual soup and half club.

“Do you have a coupon?” Derek asked.

“I do,” Mother answered with a mischievous smile. “It expired Tuesday.”