The shoes weren’t the only thing in there.
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First thing in the morning, I made a phone call.
I hung up an hour later and went straight to the nursing home.
I found Mrs. Price cleaning the restroom near the entrance.
“Mrs. Price?” I said.
She slowly rose from her kneeling position in front of one of the toilets and turned to face me. “Yes? Can I help you?”
“I don’t know if you’ll remember me. You were my math teacher many years ago.” I held out the box in both hands. “I have something for you.”
I found Mrs. Price cleaning the restroom.
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She smiled politely and removed her gloves. “Oh, that is very kind of you, but you didn’t have to do that.”
“I did,” I said gently. I handed her the box. “Please. Open it.”
She hesitated, then lifted the lid.
When she saw what was inside, she frowned.
Then her jaw dropped.
“Oh my,” she whispered. “Why would you do this to me?”
“Please. Open it.”
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That wasn’t the response I’d expected.
“What do you mean? Is something wrong?”
She took a step back, shut the toilet lid, and sat. She placed the box on her lap and gently lifted one of the sneakers.
“My heart, dear. That’s why I’m working here. My pension doesn’t quite cover the cost of my medication.” She looked up at me and smiled. “I remember these shoes. Look at you, little Alice. What a marvelous woman you’ve become.”
I laughed. “Thanks to you. I never forgot what you did for me.”
Then she noticed the folded paper beneath the shoes.
