Brian hurried over with his fake professional smile.
“Good morning, sir. Table for one?”
The old man ignored him and stepped closer to where I was standing.
“You,” he said, tapping a finger lightly against my chest. “You’re the one who helped me during the storm.”
I nodded, still confused.
“Yes, sir. I’m glad you got home all right.”
His expression softened.
“You didn’t just help me—you got me out of a dangerous situation.”
Brian’s smile faltered.
“Sir, is there… something we can assist you with?”
The old man turned to him, his voice suddenly firm and commanding.
“Yes. I’d like to speak to the owner of this restaurant.”
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