It was just a day or two before Christmas. I was in the shop, running around finding books for customers, putting out fresh coffee and generally being trying to be a good little bookseller, when a young lady approached me and said, "You probably don't remember me, do you?"
"No, I'm sorry," I said. "I don't."
"I was here about two years ago and I bought a pile of books," she said.
I nodded and smiled. (I try to do that a lot.)
"When you had written them all up," she continued, "I didn't have quite enough money to pay for them all. So you told me to take the books anyway. You said that I should pay you when I came back in."
"Well, I'm here," she reported. And with that, she handed me two fresh, shiny new quarters.
"Fifty cents? From two years ago?"
I touched her arm and said, "You will sleep better tonight."
She smiled. "Yes, I will," she said.
"So will I."