Ms. Torres pulled a folded paper out of her diaper bag, and she held her little boy on her lap with one arm while she unfolded it with the other.
Mr. Craig, she said, you brought me here to network. I came because I saw your family name on the invitation and I had to know if it was the same Danny. It is.
In January, she said, I locked myself out of my car in a parking lot at minus four degrees, and my baby was inside, in his car seat, and I could not get to him, and I was screaming. A locksmith got there and had the door open in ninety seconds. My son was turning blue. He did not charge me a cent. He sat in his van with us until the baby was warm. This is the incident report the police wrote that night. The locksmith is named right here. Danny Becker.
The cookout had gone silent. Danny had set down his spatula.
Craig called him a burglar with a business card, and that burglar is the reason the baby on his own assistants lap is alive.
Ms. Torres said she had carried that report in her diaper bag for eight months, hoping to find the man who saved her boy, and when her new boss mentioned a family cookout and a nephew named Danny the locksmith, she had asked to come.
I am Dannys mama. He passed the ketchup and said thanks, Uncle Craig, and took the joke, because a man who opens a freezing car in ninety seconds does not need a VP in golf shoes to tell him what he is. Craig did not finish his Bud Light. He looked at the baby on Ms. Torres lap for a long time, and he did not have another joke in him.