The cake was supposed to cost $300 – that’s what I’d carefully saved. But when the waiter said the price had doubled, panic set in. How could I explain to Holly that her birthday dinner was now a financial crisis?
Just as I was about to beg for mercy, the waiter delivered unexpected news: “The bill is paid.” A mysterious woman in a white coat had covered our entire meal and slipped away without a word.
I chased her down the street, tears streaming down my face. When she turned, her eyes held the understanding only another single mother could possess. “Your daughter won’t remember what this cost,” she said. “She’ll remember how loved she felt.”
That night, as Holly chattered excitedly about her perfect birthday, I realized the true gift wasn’t the paid bill – it was the reminder that angels walk among us in white coats, ready to lift us when we stumble.
