One Carpenter Spent His Savings to Keep Five Young Siblings in His Woodshop

floor. “A handshake ought to mean the price doesn’t move.”

I looked at his fingers on the walnut. They were clean, white, and had never held a chisel.

“Three hundred and sixty,” I said.

Thomas stopped tapping his nail. He looked at me, waiting for me to argue, but I only picked up a piece of sandpaper and wrapped it around a wooden block.

“Well,” Thomas continue reading …