Free Show, The by John A. Heldt Page A

soon encountered another familiar landmark: the Mad Dog. From the outside, the celebrated tavern looked much like the place she had visited a few times with Joel in 1941.
    From the inside, it looked much more modern. Grace saw updated signs, brighter lighting, and large televisions that hung from the ceiling in strategic locations. She also heard music but could not locate its source. The console radios and jukeboxes she recalled had been replaced by vending machines. Within a minute, a waitress led her to a small table near the back.
    Grace ordered a glass of red wine from a wine menu that looked like a food menu. She could not believe the choices that were available to her, as a consumer, in 2000. Then again, she could not believe a lot of things about this mysterious time.
    When the waitress returned with her order, Grace gave her five one-dollar bills and settled into a surprisingly comfortable wooden chair. She observed the dozen or so people around her and noticed that most looked happy. A few talked about their summer plans. One announced a new job. Then Grace turned to her right and saw a woman in a booth that did not look happy. In fact, she looked downright distressed.
    "Is something wrong?" Grace asked. "You seem upset."
    "It must be the tears," the woman said with a laugh. "They're always the first clue."
    Grace pulled a rough paper napkin from a dispenser at her table and offered it to the woman.
    "Take this. It's not a tissue, but it will help."
    "Thanks."
    "Do you mind if I join you?" Grace asked.
    "Feel free. No one else seems to want to tonight."
    Grace grabbed her glass, left her table, and slid into the booth's empty seat. She nudged a nearly empty pitcher of beer to the side, eyed her new acquaintance, and stuck out a hand.
    "I'm Grace. It's nice to meet you."
    The woman, who appeared to be in her early twenties, was pretty. She had long brown hair, amber eyes, and olive skin that suggested a recent trip to the tropics. Like Grace, she wore a white blouse and a denim skirt. She wiped her eyes with the napkin and then took Grace's hand.
    "I'm Jana. Jana Lamoreaux."
    "I'm sorry to see you so sad, Jana. Is there anything I can do to help?"
    "Sure. You can go fetch my boyfriend and knock some sense into him. I think he dumped me tonight, and I don't know why."
    Grace offered a reassuring smile.
    "I know this is probably no comfort to you, but I can relate. My boyfriend dumped me two weeks ago and I don't know why. I've come here to look for him."
    "Let me guess," Jana said. "He said he had a lot of thinking to do and needed time alone to find some answers."
    "No," Grace said. "He just ran off."
    Jana laughed.
    "Well, I guess you do have it worse than me. There's still a chance my boyfriend might come back, but I doubt he will. We dated for two years. I thought we had something special, but now I see it was all an illusion."
    "Why do you say that?"
    "I say it because it's probably true. He's been very distant the past couple of weeks. He's said the right things and done the right things, but he's said and done them with little enthusiasm. He hasn't been the same since he went on a trip to Yellowstone with his buddy."
    "Is he a student?"
    "He is, or was. Like me, he graduated yesterday."
    "Maybe he's nervous about entering the real world. I'd give him a little more time. I'm sure he'll come around. He probably just needs a few days to think about his future."
    "You may be right," Jana said, "but I don't think so. He's pretty well off. His family is loaded and he has a lot of friends in important places. I would be shocked if he doesn't find a good job by the end of the summer. I think the problem lies elsewhere."
    "What do you mean?"
    "I can't prove it, but I think he met someone on his trip. I think he's found someone else."
     

CHAPTER 14: GRACE
     
    When Grace returned to Penelope's house, she found her host reading the newspaper and drinking decaffeinated tea at the dining room table. Several envelopes,