Chapter 20

“Do you mind if I join you?”

Lori was too groggy after a fitful night of sleeping to realize that the slight woman standing by her table holding a coffee and pumpkin-spice muffin was talking to her, at least at first. A quick look around showed that all of the other tables in the bakery were taken, and once she finally understood what the woman was asking her, she nodded, embarrassed that she had sat like a doofus for a good thirty seconds before responding. The woman took the seat across from her and held out her hand.

“Rosalyn,” the woman said.

It was a small, delicate hand, which made sense because it was attached to a small, delicate-looking woman. She was somewhat older than Lori. Early thirties, thin, light brown mousy hair that framed a moon-shaped face, slightly upturned nose. Not a very memorable face. Plain, bordering on pretty. The kind that you see a dozen times a day. Maybe that was why she seemed vaguely familiar.

Lori took the hand and introduced herself.

“Thank you for letting me sit here,” Rosalyn said. “I got here ten minutes too late this morning. Maybe sometime in the future if you come in and the place is crowded, I’ll be able to return the favor.”

“I wouldn’t mind that at all,” Lori said. Something about this woman put her at ease, and she found herself smiling despite her fatigue and anxiety. “It would be nice having company when I come here.”

“Nobody should eat breakfast alone.”

Rosalyn said this so earnestly that Lori broke out laughing. “True, that,” she said.

Rosalyn winked at her. “We can be pioneers starting a new tradition in West Hollywood,” she said. “Strangers sitting together at breakfast, whether it be at diners, bakeries, or wherever. Wouldn’t that be nice? Although you’re not exactly a stranger. I’ve seen you in the neighborhood walking a huge black dog. That’s the kind of dog that gets your attention.”

For several minutes Lori had been feeling like her old self. Carefree and unworried. Thinking of Lucky brought back feelings of impending doom. For a brief heartbeat she imagined a voice whispering in her ear: he’s coming for you and he’ll be doing terrible things to you.

“Are you okay?” Rosalyn asked, her eyes opening wide with alarm. “You just turned white as a sheet.”

Lori had no doubt that was true. She felt so cold all at once. Lightheaded, too. She picked up her coffee in both hands and took a long drink, trying to draw some warmth into her body. She heard a catch in her voice as she told Rosalyn how Lucky had run away. Her voice sounded so distant to her own ears that it seemed nearly impossible to think that it came from her.

“I’m so sorry,” Rosalyn said, compassion flooding her face. “I saw the lost dog posters you put up around the neighborhood, but I guess I was being a ditz, or maybe hoping you’d found him already. I do chatter on sometimes. But a dog that looks like yours can’t hide for long. Someone will find him and contact you. I’m sure of it.”

Lori lowered her gaze to the coffee mug she was holding. Her lips pressed together so tightly that the muscles around her mouth began to ache. She knew this other woman was only trying to be helpful, but right then she only wanted to be left alone in her misery. After a long, uncomfortable silence, Rosalyn seemed to sense that also. She murmured an apology and left the table.