Jack was a truck driver who made a solid living, so when the babies were born, it was easy for Rachel to quit her job to care for their children. But something did, and Rachel was at a loss.

One day, Jack left for work early in the morning and never returned. Later that evening, Rachel got a call from the cops informing her that he had passed away in a truck collision. Jack was gone, and she’d have to embrace the role of the man of the house.

One day, she was at a grocery store buying items for her sons’ birthday, but the prices there made her brow furrow.

“When did the price of

go up? $5 for a small one?! Ughh, I haven’t bought half of the items yet, and the total is already $50! Jesus! I need to put some items back.”

She proceeded to the next aisle just as one of her sons, Max, started insisting on buying him some

“Mommy! Can you please get me candies? Please?”

“Oh, honey!” Rachel paused. “Candies are not good for you. Doctors say that candies make your teeth bad. They’re also a little expensive, and mommy needs to bake a cake for your birthday, so she’ll have to buy the ingredients for them.”But the four-year-old boy wouldn’t understand that. He began crying loudly, which attracted some of the shoppers’ attention. “No, mommy! I want it! I WANT

“Yes, mommy! We want candies too! PLEASE!!!” cried the other four boys in unison.

“How hard is it to check the prices before buying something?” the cashier, Lincy, grumbled.

“You’re $10 short, so I’ll have to take some things out of here.”

She picked up the chocolate cookies, candy bars, and a few other items and began preparing the bill, but Rachel stopped her.

“Oh, please don’t remove those items. Umm… let’s do one thing. I’ll remove the bread and….” Rachel began picking and choosing the items to remove.

He was walking around when he came across an older woman.

“Hi there, young man! I’m Mrs. Simpson. What’s your name? And what are you doing here alone?” she asked gently, smiling at him.

“Hello, Mrs. Simpson. I’m Max, and I’m four years old. How old are you?”

The older woman blushed. “I’m just a little older than you, Max. Let’s say 70? Where is your mother?”

“Mommy is fighting with someone. She says mommy doesn’t have enough money, and we need to leave some things here.”

“Oh, is that so?” Mrs. Simpson inquired worriedly. “Can you take me to your mommy?”

“Look, woman! If you can’t afford stuff, don’t come here in the first place! Now move! Other customers are awaiting their turn!”

“No, please wait…” Rachel had just started speaking when a voice cut her off.

“There’s no need to remove those items. Your bill is already covered!

“Oh no, please,” Rachel intervened. “I’m afraid I can’t take that from you. It’s fine.”

“Don’t worry, it’s fine,” the older woman insisted, and Rachel finally gave in.

As they cleared their bills and walked out of the store, Rachel couldn’t stop thanking her.

“Thank you so much for helping us. I’m sorry I can’t pay you the money right now, but please visit us sometime. Here, this is my address,” she said, handing her a note on which she scribbled her address. “I’d love to treat you to some tea and cookies. I make really good cookies.”

The boys waved back at her, and Rachel was perplexed when Mrs. Simpson mentioned Max’s name in specific. “Do you know Mrs. Simpson, honey?” she asked Max gently.

“Yes, mommy! I told her you were fighting, so she helped you.”

“Oh, she’s such a sweetheart!” Rachel thought as she walked back to her car.

The next day, there was a knock on her door. “Oh, Mrs. Simpson! Please come in. You came at the right time! I just baked some cookies,” Rachel said, showing her the way inside.

As the older woman took a seat, Rachel brought her some cookies and a cup of tea.

“Oh, you didn’t have to go to all that trouble,” she replied, reaching for the teacup.

“Do you live alone with your children?”

“Actually, my husband passed away last year, so I’ve been raising my children on my own. Unfortunately, I’m not working now, so the money is tight. I had a small business selling knitted sweaters and caps, but no one buys them in the summer, and I am still looking for a job.”

“In that case, why don’t you join me at my clothing store?” the older woman proposed.

“I need an assistant and would love to have you. Don’t worry; I can look after your children for you. My husband died many years ago, and we never had children. So I’m just an old lady counting down the days until God brings her home

“Of course, Mrs. Simpson!” Rachel said as she wiped away her tears. She started working at Mrs. Simpson’s store the next day, worked hard for months in a row, and got promoted to the role of supervisor.

When she showed Mrs. Simpson her design samples one day, the older woman recommended she start a side business and encouraged her to share some of her works on social media.