Chapter 13 - What Forgiveness Could Not Buy
Roman came to the diner in early summer.
He arrived alone.
He waited until the lunch rush ended.
I saw him through the window.
For a moment, I was back in his study.
Then I remembered where I stood.
My restaurant.
My floor.
My choice.
I opened the door.
"Coffee?"
He nodded.
"If you have time."
I poured him a cup.
He paid at the register.
He didn't leave a hundred-dollar tip.
He didn't ask for special treatment.
We sat near the window.
"I've changed the company," he said.
He described independent audits.
Worker protections.
A compensation fund.
I listened carefully.
"Good," I said.
He looked surprised.
"That's all?"
"That's what you should have done."
He nodded.
"You're right."
We finished our coffee.
Before leaving, he paused.
"I wanted you to know I was wrong."
"I know."
"Can you forgive me?"
I looked at Dad's photograph.
Then at the busy street.
"Maybe someday."
Roman accepted the answer.
May you like
He walked away without arguing.
That was the first time I believed his change might last.
