A Little Kindness Goes A Long Way

A Little Kindness Goes a Long Way

Chapter 1: The Morning Nobody Said Hello

In the little town of Pinebrook, Monday morning arrived with sunshine, birdsong, and the unmistakable smell of freshly baked bread.

It should have been a lovely morning.

Unfortunately, the people of Pinebrook seemed determined to ruin it.

At precisely eight o'clock, Nell stepped out of her little yellow house, carrying a basket of apples and a cheerful smile.

"Good morning!" she called to her neighbor, Gus, who was standing in his front yard staring suspiciously at a flowerpot.

Gus looked up.

"It's not good," he grumbled.

Nell blinked. "Oh? Is something wrong?"

"The flowers are dying."

Nell glanced at the flowerpot.

It contained a perfectly healthy plant.

"Those are plastic flowers, Gus."

"I know that!" he snapped. "That's what's so irritating. I paid good money for them, and they still look miserable."

Nell pressed her lips together.

She wanted to laugh, but she suspected Gus would consider laughter a personal attack.

"Well, I hope your morning improves," she said kindly.

Gus turned back to his flowerpot.

"It won't."

Nell continued down the street.

"Have a lovely day!" she called to a man carrying a newspaper.

He walked straight past her.

"Lovely day to you, too," she murmured.

A woman hurried by with two shopping bags, nearly bumping into Nell.

"Excuse me," Nell said.

The woman frowned. "You were in my way."

Nell looked down at the wide, empty sidewalk.

"Oh. Of course. I'll try to make myself smaller next time."

The woman marched away without answering.

Nell watched her go.

"Perhaps everyone woke up on the wrong side of the bed."

Then she remembered that Gus slept in a bed so old it had a permanent dip in the middle.

"Although, in his case, I think the bed gave up years ago."

She smiled to herself and continued toward the town square.

The Great Bread Emergency

The first stop was May's little shop, which sold everything from homemade jam to knitted scarves and biscuits that Pickles, Nell's mischievous little dog, had once stolen directly off the counter.

May stood behind the register, arranging a basket of fresh rolls.

"Morning, Nell!"

"Good morning, May. Those rolls smell wonderful."

"They should. I spent half the night making them."

"Half the night?"

"Yes. The other half was spent arguing with my oven."

Nell laughed. "Who won?"

"The oven. Naturally. It has a door I can't slam without breaking something."

Before Nell could reply, Ben burst through the shop door.

"Emergency!"

May didn't even look up.

"If you're on fire, use the water bucket outside. If you've broken something, tell me before I discover it myself."

"Neither!" Ben gasped. "Well, not exactly."

He held up a paper bag.

Inside was a loaf of bread, squashed flat as a pancake.

May stared at it.

"What happened?"

"I was carrying it home when I saw Mr. Dale drop his groceries. I stopped to help him, and someone stepped on my bread."

Nell frowned. "Who stepped on it?"

Ben hesitated.

"Me."

May folded her arms.

"You stepped on your own bread?"

"I was trying to help Mr. Dale pick up his oranges! I put the bag down, forgot where it was, and then—"

He demonstrated by stepping on an imaginary loaf.

Nell winced.

"Ben, that explains the bread. It doesn't explain why you demonstrated the accident twice."

"I wanted to make sure you understood the tragedy."

May picked up the flattened loaf.

"Well, congratulations. You've invented toast that hasn't been toasted."

Ben brightened.

"Do you think I could sell it?"

"No."

"At a discount?"

"No."

"With a catchy name?"

"Ben."

"Right. I'll work on the name."

Despite the silly conversation, Nell noticed that Ben looked disappointed.

"At least you stopped to help Mr. Dale," she told him. "That was a kind thing to do."

Ben shrugged.

"He didn't even say thank you. He just complained that I'd picked up his oranges in the wrong order."

May sighed.

"People can be very particular about their oranges."

"And their bread," Ben added sadly.

Nell smiled at him.

"Sometimes people forget their manners. That doesn't mean helping them was the wrong thing to do."

Ben considered this.

"So you're saying I should keep helping people?"

"Yes."

"Even if they don't thank me?"

"Yes."

"Even if they complain?"

"Yes."

"Even if they step on my bread?"

Nell paused.

"Perhaps we should establish some rules about where you put the bread first."

May nodded solemnly.

"Finally, some sensible advice."

One Small Act

After leaving the shop, Nell crossed the town square.

An elderly man sat on a bench near the fountain, struggling with a stubborn jar of jam. He twisted the lid, tapped it against his knee, and tried again.

"Come on," he muttered. "Open, you ridiculous little thing."

Nell approached.

"Would you like some help?"

The man looked up suspiciously.

"Are you good at opening jars?"

"Usually."

"Because my nephew claims he's good at everything, and last week he broke my can opener."

Nell took the jar gently.

She wrapped her hands around the lid and twisted.

Nothing happened.

She tried again.

Still nothing.

The man sighed.

"Perhaps the jam is protecting itself."

Nell grunted with effort.

"Perhaps it knows something we don't."

She tried one final time.

Pop!

The lid came free.

The man stared at the jar as though Nell had performed a miracle.

"Well, I'll be."

"Here you are," Nell said, handing it back.

He smiled.

"Thank you, young lady. I've been fighting that thing for ten minutes."

"You're very welcome."

"And I was beginning to think I'd have to write a letter to the manufacturer."

Nell laughed.

"That might have been a little extreme."

"Not at all. I'd have included photographs."

For the first time that morning, Nell felt that familiar warmth that came from helping someone.

It hadn't taken much. Just a few moments and a willingness to stop.

She continued across the square, humming happily.

Then she saw a little girl standing beside the fountain.

The girl was crying.

Nell immediately walked over.

"Hello, sweetheart. What's wrong?"

The child sniffled.

"I lost my money."

"Oh dear. How much?"

"Two coins. I was going to buy a birthday card for my grandma."

Nell knelt beside her.

"What's your name?"

"Lucy."

"Well, Lucy, let's have a look around. We might find it."

They searched near the fountain, beneath the bench, and along the path.

Nothing.

Nell opened her basket and found a small coin purse tucked beneath the apples.

She counted out two coins and held them toward Lucy.

"Here you go. You can use these to buy your card."

Lucy's eyes widened.

"But that's your money."

"I can spare it."

"Are you sure?"

Nell nodded.

"Absolutely."

Lucy took the coins and hugged Nell tightly.

"Thank you! I'll make my grandma the prettiest card in the whole town!"

Nell smiled.

"She'll love it."

Lucy ran toward the stationery shop.

Nell watched her go, feeling as though the morning had finally begun to turn around.

Then a voice spoke behind her.

"Well, that's a foolish thing to do."

Nell turned.

A woman stood near the fountain, watching her with a disapproving expression.

"Giving away your money to strangers," the woman continued. "People will take advantage of you if you let them."

Nell took a breath.

"I understand your concern, but she was a little girl who wanted to buy her grandmother a birthday card."

"And what will you do when you need that money?"

Nell glanced at her basket.

"I'll manage."

The woman shook her head and walked away.

For a moment, Nell wondered whether the woman might be right.

Could kindness make people take advantage of you?

Was being generous foolish?

Then Nell remembered Lucy's smile.

She hadn't given away all her money. She hadn't endangered herself. She had simply helped someone when she could.

There was a difference between being kind and being careless.

And there was certainly a difference between kindness and allowing someone to use you.

Nell adjusted her basket and headed home.

She had barely reached her gate when she heard a familiar voice.

"You're late."

Gus stood in his front yard again.

"Late for what?" Nell asked.

"Whatever you were doing."

Nell stared at him.

"Good morning to you, too, Gus."

He grunted.

She turned toward her front door.

Then she stopped.

"Actually, Gus?"

"What?"

"Would you like some apples? I bought too many."

Gus glanced at the basket.

"No."

"All right."

She took one step.

"Are they sweet?"

Nell looked over her shoulder.

"Very."

"How sweet?"

"Sweet enough to eat."

Gus frowned.

"That's not a useful measurement."

Nell picked out a shiny red apple and held it toward him.

"Here. You can try one."

He hesitated before taking it.

"I suppose one won't hurt."

"Probably not."

He bit into it.

His eyebrows lifted ever so slightly.

"Not bad."

Nell smiled. "I'm glad."

Gus chewed thoughtfully.

Then, without looking at her, he muttered, "Thank you."

Nell's smile widened.

"You're welcome."

Gus immediately pointed at her.

"Don't make a fuss about it."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

"And don't tell anyone."

"Your secret is safe with me."

He narrowed his eyes.

"You look like someone who tells stories."

Nell walked inside, laughing.

Behind her, Gus returned to his flowerpot, still holding the apple.

For the first time that morning, he didn't look quite so grumpy.

He even glanced at his plastic flowers.

"Well," he muttered, taking another bite, "at least somebody around here knows how to grow something decent."

He looked at the apple.

Then at the flowerpot.

"Though these flowers could use a little work."

And just like that, Pinebrook's Monday morning came to an end—not with a grand gesture or a life-changing speech, but with a small act of kindness, a shared laugh, and one grumpy man who had almost remembered how to be pleasant.

Almost.

After all, Rome wasn't built in a day.

And neither, apparently, was Gus's personality.

Lesson Learned

Small acts of kindness can brighten someone's day, even when other people are rude or ungrateful. We don't always know what someone else is going through, so a little patience and courtesy can go a long way.

The Moral

Treat others with kindness, not because you expect something in return, but because it's the right thing to do. Remember that being kind doesn't mean ignoring your own needs or letting others take advantage of you.

A Little Humor

If a man complains that his plastic flowers look miserable, perhaps the problem isn't the flowers.

Perhaps the problem is that he's been arguing with a flowerpot before breakfast.

And if your bread gets flattened, don't panic. Just tell everyone you've invented a new recipe.

Gus, however, would probably complain that the recipe isn't sweet enough.

Coming Next: Chapter 2 — The Man Who Hated Everyone

Nell has begun to suspect that there's more to Gus than his complaints and his suspicious relationship with plastic flowers. But discovering why someone behaves badly doesn't always mean excusing their behavior.

And Gus? Well, he's about to learn that being rude to the people around you can have some very inconvenient consequences.

Something tells me his flowerpot isn't going to be the biggest problem in his yard for much longer.