By the time Monday morning arrived, I was beginning to think Lawson Customs had somehow become impossible to kill.
Every time somebody knocked us down, we got back up. Every time somebody caused damage, people showed up to help fix it. And every time I thought I couldn't possibly be surprised anymore, this town proved me wrong.
I pulled into the garage parking lot just after sunrise and I immediately noticed something unusual and the lot was already half full.
At first I thought customers had arrived early. Then I recognized several familiar faces. George Miller stood near the front entrance holding a coffee cup.
Mrs. Jenkins from the bakery carried two large boxes. The owner of the hardware store unloaded supplies from the back of his truck and several other local business owners were
