Curtis explained that three major customers had pulled their accounts after learning what he had done. Someone had written an insulting word across his shop window, and his business was suffering. He hoped a public apology and donation would bring people back.<\/p>\n
I told him I was glad he wanted to help the children, but I wouldn’t post anything. If he was doing it so people would praise him, then it wasn’t really about the children. The only way his donation could mean something was if nobody knew his name.<\/p>\n
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For a moment, Curtis looked ready to tear up the check and leave. Then Mrs. Lundquist quietly interrupted. She remembered Curtis as a third-grader in 1977. His father owned the auto parts shop and drank away much of its money. Curtis came to school without lunch money or a warm enough coat. Every day that winter, Mrs. Lundquist had secretly given him a hot lunch tray and paid the forty-five cents herself. She couldn’t bear watching him eat plain bread with his head down. Curtis stared at her, then sank into the chair. He covered his face with his cap, and his shoulders began to shake.<\/p>\n
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