Young Waitress Offered Her Sandwich To a Little Girl—Didn’t Know Her Father Was A Millionaire an
The Girl on the Curb
The evening rush at Riverside Bistro was just beginning to wind down. Clare Bennett wiped down the outdoor tables one more time, her feet aching in the sensible canvas sneakers she wore during her long shifts.
At 26, she’d been working at the bistro for nearly 3 years ever since she’d moved to the city with dreams of becoming a teacher. She found that paying rent while attending night classes was harder than she’d imagined.
Clare had platinum blonde hair pulled back in a practical ponytail. She wore the bistro’s uniform, a crisp white button-down shirt beneath a navy blue apron that tied at the waist paired with black pants.
The uniform was simple but professional. Clare took pride in her appearance even after hours of serving customers.
The bistro occupied a corner location in the renovated warehouse district. Old brick buildings had been transformed into trendy restaurants, art galleries, and lofts.
It was the kind of neighborhood where young professionals grabbed lattes before work and families strolled on weekend afternoons.
Clare loved working there and loved the energy of the street. This was even if her paycheck barely covered her studio apartment and student loan payments.
She’d just finished clearing the last outdoor table when she noticed a little girl sitting on the curb across the street.
The child couldn’t have been more than 5 or 6 years old with light brown hair pulled into a small ponytail.
She wore a beautiful cream colored coat that looked expensive, white sneakers, and what appeared to be a school uniform beneath the coat.
What caught Clare’s attention was the way the little girl was sitting hunched over slightly, looking small and lost despite the nice clothes.
Clare glanced around looking for a parent or guardian but saw no one paying attention to the child.
The street was busy with evening pedestrians like people in business suits heading home from work, couples walking to dinner, and a few tourists. No one seemed to notice the little girl sitting alone on the curb.
Clare felt a flutter of concern. She looked back at the bistro where her manager was inside counting the register.
Her shift was technically over. She’d worked a double from 11:00 in the morning until 7:00 in the evening and she was exhausted.
Something about that little girl sitting alone troubled her. Making a decision, Clare grabbed her own dinner from behind the counter.
It was a turkey and cheese sandwich the kitchen had made for her wrapped in paper. She crossed the street.
“Hi there,” Clare said gently as she approached, kneeling down so she’d be at the child’s eye level. “Are you okay sweetheart?”
The little girl looked up and Clare saw that her eyes were red-rimmed as if she’d been crying.
Up close Clare could see that despite the expensive clothes the child looked tired and sad and very young.
“I’m okay,” the little girl said in a small voice. But she didn’t sound okay at all.
“Are you waiting for someone?” Clare asked. “Your mom or dad?”
The little girl nodded. “My daddy? He said to wait right here that he’d just be a minute but it’s been a really long time.”
Her lower lip trembled. “And I’m hungry. We were supposed to get dinner but then Daddy got a phone call and said it was important and I should wait.”
Clare felt her heart squeeze. She looked around again searching for any adult who might be looking for a child but saw no one.
“How long have you been waiting?” Clare asked. The little girl shrugged.
“I don’t know, a long time. The sun was still higher,” she pointed vaguely at the sky.
Clare made a quick calculation. It was nearly 7:30 now and the sun had set around 6:00.
This child had been sitting alone on a curb for at least an hour and a half, possibly longer.
“What’s your name?” Clare asked. “Lily,” the girl said. “Lily Anderson.”
