Grandma hated that about him.
Not his kindness.
The way people took advantage of it.
She used to tell him, “Frank, being kind doesn’t mean letting people steal from you.”
After she died, Grandpa became almost religious about written agreements.
Not because he trusted people less.
Because he finally understood that being a good person didn’t require becoming an easy target.
The couple had mistaken his calm for weakness.
They saw an old man with a tool belt.
One person.
No big company behind him. No receptionist. No collections department.
