“Your daughter’s wedding?” Lucy asked when the old woman looked up and noticed her.
“Oh, no, not my daughter’s,” she said. “My son’s.”
Lucy was about to leave the woman to her book when she spotted the colorful metal cane propped next to the woman on the bench seat. “Are you all right?” Lucy asked.
The woman seemed momentarily mystified. “Oh, yes,” she said finally. “I’m just fine. I’m waiting for my husband, James. I think he went into the restroom. I’m sure he’ll be out in a minute.”
It didn’t seem possible that someone could have been in the men’s restroom that long, but maybe something had happened to the old guy. If he was as old as the woman, maybe he was frail and sick and had passed out in one of the stalls. Once Lucy got back to the counter, she asked one of the cooks to check the men’s restroom, just in case.
“Nobody’s in there,” he reported. “No one at all.”
Lucy went back over to the woman in the booth. “Can I get you something?”
“A cup of coffee would be very nice,” the woman said. Then she looked around the booth anxiously. “But I don’t see my purse. Do you?”
Lucy looked. There was no purse. “I don’t see it,” she said. “Did you maybe leave it in your car?”
The woman frowned. “I might have.”
“What kind of car?” Lucy asked. “What color?”
“The Jag,” the woman said. “It’s green.”
Lucy went outside and checked the parking lot. There were two white pickup trucks and a ratty old Jeep Cherokee. There were no Jaguars in sight, and no green cars, either.
Back inside, Lucy poured a cup of coffee from the machine behind the counter, then delivered it to the woman in the corner booth. “Cream and sugar?” she asked, setting it down in front of the woman.
“No, black is fine, but I can’t possibly take this. I don’t have any money. James could pay-I’m sure he will pay-but I don’t know where he went.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Lucy said. “Are you hungry? Can I bring you something?”
“A hamburger would be nice,” the woman said. “One of the small ones.”
Nodding, Lucy went back to the counter and ordered a Whopper Junior.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Lucy’s manager asked when he saw her taking money from her own pocket and putting it into the till, enough to cover the burger and the senior coffee. In Lucy’s opinion, Richard Marino was a jerk, but she didn’t dare cross him if she wanted to keep her job.
“That poor lady’s hungry,” Lucy told him. “She lost her purse, and she’s got no money.”
“Likely story,” Richard said sarcastically. “So what are you, friggin’ Mother Teresa?”
“She reminds me of my grandmother,” Lucy said. “If Nana was here, broke and hungry, I hope someone would help her.” With that and a toss of her heavy black braids, she went out to the woman’s booth to deliver the food.
“I’m Lucy,” she announced, setting the tray down on the table in front of the old woman. “Lucy Ramirez.”
“Glad to meet you, Lucy,” the woman said with a smile. She moved the book aside to make room for the tray. “I’m Doris,” she said. “Doris Ralston. James and I are on our way to see some friends in Palm Springs.”
Lucy nodded and started to walk away.
“Wait,” Doris said. “I need to pay you for that.” Once again she searched the booth, frantically looking for a purse Lucy already knew was nowhere to be found. Obviously, Doris had already forgotten it was missing.
“Don’t worry about it,” Lucy said gently. “This is on me. You’ve been here for quite a while, and I haven’t seen anyone else sitting here. Are you sure your husband came to the restaurant with you? Someone told me a man in a pickup dropped you off.”
“Oh, no. I wouldn’t be riding around in a pickup. I’ve never been in one of those in my life. And of course James is here,” Doris declared. “Where else would he be?”
A new set of customers-three separate couples of gray-haired retirees, traveling in a caravan of RVs-came in, talking and laughing. With a glance at Richard’s disapproving scowl, Lucy left Doris to eat her Whopper Junior in peace and hurried back to the register. At some point in the course of the next hour, Doris got up and limped to the bathroom. When she came out, she stood at the end of the corridor and looked around the restaurant as if unsure where to go.
“You’re over there, Doris,” Lucy said, pointing. “In the corner booth.”
Doris smiled at her. “Thank you.”
Richard sidled up behind Lucy as Doris returned to her booth. “What’s the matter with her?” he asked. “Is she nuts? We should call the cops.”
“Leave her be,” Lucy said. “She’s not bothering anyone.”
When Richard went outside for a cigarette break during the next lull, Lucy went to fill the ice machine, then back over to Doris’s booth. “Where do you live?” she asked.
“Phoenix,” Doris said at once. “You’d like it. It’s a lovely place, right next to the mountains.”
“If you’re from Phoenix and you’re going to Palm Springs, what are you doing here?” Lucy asked. “Why didn’t you stay on I-10?”
Doris frowned. “You’ll have to ask James about that,” she said. “He’s the one who was driving. But where is he? It seems like he’s been gone a long time.”
“Don’t worry,” Lucy assured her. “You stay right here. I get off work in another hour, then we’ll see about getting you a ride back home.”
Doris’s expression darkened. “I’m not sure I want to go back. Not if he’s there.”
“He who? Your husband?”
“Oh, no, not James. He’s fine,” Doris said. “Barry’s the one I don’t like. I don’t trust him. I think he stole my necklace.”
“Don’t worry about any of that right now,” Lucy said. “You just sit here and wait for me. Once I get off work, we’ll sort it all out.”
“What does that mean?” Richard asked when Lucy returned to her register. He had evidently been listening. “Are you planning on taking her home with you like she’s some kind of stray dog?”
“No,” Lucy said. “I called Tommy and Nana on my break. Nana will look after the kids while Tommy and I figure out a way to take Doris home.”
“Doris,” Richard sneered. “So now you’re on a first-name basis?”
You could be, too, Lucy thought, but it’s never gonna happen.
Five minutes before Lucy’s shift ended, Tommy showed up and ordered his usual. “Where is she?” he asked.
“Over in the corner,” Lucy said, swiping his card. “Her name is Doris. Her husband’s name is James.”
“Yes,” he said, “and she lives on Upper Glen Road in Phoenix. At least she used to.”
“How do you know where she lives?” Lucy demanded.
“Where she used to live,” Tommy corrected. “I know about it because I’ve got a friend who’s a dispatcher for the Arizona Highway Patrol. About an hour ago, a light green Jaguar was reported abandoned near a rest area on I-8. It was out of gas, and Doris Ralston’s purse was found inside. They’re sending a patrol officer here to pick her up. He should be here any minute.”
“Wait,” Lucy said, outraged. “You mean they’re going to arrest her? The poor woman hasn’t done anything wrong. She’s just confused.”
“She may be confused,” Tommy said, “but she’s also really, really lucky.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s still alive. Somebody burned her house down earlier this afternoon,” Tommy said. “Until I called in the report about your lost friend being at the Burger King in Gila Bend, everybody thought she was dead.”
“Oh my God!” Lucy exclaimed. “That’s what she said!”
“What did she say?”
“She told me she was afraid of someone. That he scared her. That he had stolen something that belonged to her. She also mentioned that her husband, James, was supposedly driving the car. Where’s he?”