I thought about it.
“Because George would have,” I said. “In 1985, when the whole county was going under, a lot of farmers came into that bank angry. Some of them said terrible things to George. Called him names. Blamed him for the interest rates, the land prices, the weather. One of them threw a chair through the front window.”
“What did George do?” Brandon asked.
“He gave the man a loan,” I said. “Fixed the window himself. Never pressed charges. The man paid back every cent. His grandson runs the feed store now.”
I picked up the bowl of peas. I held it out to him.
“George used to say there are two kinds of people in a bank,” I said. “People who’ve been treated badly. And people who are about to be. You can be the one who treats them badly. Or you can be the one who doesn’t. That’s the only choice you’ve got.”
