Then I thought about my son, Nathan, who was attending college several states away. If he were stranded somewhere, I would want someone to help him.
“All right,” I said, unlocking my phone. “Just stay near the pump.”
“Thank you.”
The boy turned slightly away and made a short call.
Less than thirty seconds later, he came back and handed me the phone carefully.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“You’re welcome. Is your aunt coming?”
He nodded, but his eyes shifted toward the entrance of the parking lot.
The gas pump clicked off behind me.
I replaced the nozzle and reached for the receipt.
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