as long as I could,” Walt said. “Turned out I could hold it a pretty long time.”
He held it out toward me.
“I can’t afford it yet,” I said. “Not right now. I’m still waiting on the back support—”
Nolan reached into his pocket.
Not the secret one. His regular jeans pocket. He pulled out a small plastic sandwich bag. Inside were crumpled dollar bills, a few fives, and a lot of quarters.
He put it on the counter.
“It’s sixty-three dollars and seventy-five cents,” he said. “Grandma helped
me save. I did chores. And I sold my old Legos at school.”
He looked up at Walt.
“Is that enough to start?” he asked.
Walt looked at the sandwich bag. Then he looked at my mother, who was crying. Then he looked at me, who was crying worse.
Then he looked at Nolan.
“Young man,” he said. “I think that’s exactly enough.”
He took the sandwich bag. He picked up the locket. And he put it in Nolan’s small hand.
“Mr. Harmon,” I said. “No. It was worth way
more than that. I owe you at least a hundred and eighty.”
Walt shook his head.
“You know what this shop is called?” he said.
“Second Chances,” Nolan said.
“That’s right,” Walt said. “And this young man stood up in a courtroom and told the truth when every grown-up in the room was lying. I’d say that’s worth a second chance.”
Nolan turned around and held up the locket.
“Mom,” he said. “Can I give it to you on Mother’s Day? It’s in three weeks. I want to wrap it.”
