On the fourth day, which was Saturday, a teenager placed a Tim Horton’s coffee cup on the little round table on the bridge and headed back down the driveway.
Harry pulled the truck up beside him. “Do you want to talk in the truck or outside?”
“What do you mean? Talk about what?”
“I saw you leave the coffee cup on Mrs. Allen’s table.”
“I’ll talk inside but I don’t want to be late for work, Mr. Hogan.”
Harry waited until he was in the truck. “Okay, you know who I am. Now tell me who you are.”
“Carl Burton, sir, but I didn’t mean any harm. I hope I haven’t scared her.”
“She’s more curious than anything else. That’s why she came to me. So, what’s going on? Why are you doing this?”
“I mow her grass in the summer and shovel the snow in winter. She pays me on Sunday when I’m not in school or working and she invites me in for lemonade or hot chocolate, depending on the season. She joins me and always asks about school and work.”
“She thought she had a secret admirer,” Harry told him, “and she was curious.”
The kid smiled. “I guess I am, in a way. I admire her independence and she’s just a nice lady.”
“Why do you leave these little gifts for her?”
Carl closed his eyes a moment and then spoke very quietly. “I used to do little things for my Gran but she died last year and I miss her. Mrs. Allan has no grandchildren and I thought Gran would be happy to know I was doing something to help brighten up someone else’s day.”
“That’s actually very thoughtful,” Harry said, “but it can be a bit upsetting for someone living alone.”
“Are you going to tell her?”
Harry shook his head. “I think you should be the one to do that – and very soon. I will assure her that it’s just being done out of kindness. Now, where do you work? I’ve delayed you so I’ll drop you off.”
“Canadian Tire,” Carl told him. “Two summers now, plus Christmas and Easter breaks, and every Saturday during the school year.”
“That doesn’t give you much time for a social life.”
Carl shrugged. “No, but it’s necessary… if I want to reach my goal..”
Harry pulled up in front of the store entrance, then turned and looked at his passenger. “And what is your goal, if you don’t mind me asking.”
“I’m going to be a neurologist, hopefully one of the best.”
“That’s an impressive goal and, for some reason, I actually think you’ll make it.”
“Thank you, Mr. Hogan.” Carl was grinning as he hopped out of the truck. “For everything.”
When Harry returned to assure Mrs. Allan that her secret admirer was totally harmless, she was puzzled. “Why on earth would he not want to give me the opportunity to return the favour… or express my thanks?”
Harry chuckled. “I suspect that would take the fun out of it for him.”
“Still, there must be a way I can thank him… hmmm… I’m sure I’ll think of something.”
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