Iâd hate to keep you out any longerââ
âI know of a good deli thatâs open 24 hours, if youâre willing to try something a little different. Itâs kind of a hole in the wall called âAnnaâs.ââ
Before I fought with her any longer, I stopped. Maybe she needed someone right now. She lived alone. She was divorced. She had no children. Sure, she was a tough, even mean, older woman, but even the people with the thickest skin need someone to talk to sometimes. Perhaps tonight was her night. And what would I be doing if I went home? Lying in bed, trying to sleep, and doing a lousy job due to the adrenaline still coursing through my veins. Oh, why not?
I smiled and glanced at her from the corner of my eye.
âHole in the wall,â I said. âI like those kinds of places.â
âWell, youâll love this then.â She pointed. âTurn here.â
* * *
The tomato soup was wonderful, a nice mixture of tomato chunks, paste, and basil. I sipped, chewed, and savored each spoonful. Mrs. Newton had been right about this place. Great stuff. I drank a sip of my green iced tea and felt my nerves relax. Leaned back into the blue cushion of the brown wooden booth, I smiled.
Weâd eaten in silence up until that point, contently enjoying the décor. The deli owner mustâve favored Georgia OâKeefe. Imitations of the artistâs flower paintings decorated the wall in large murals.
Mrs. Newton poured enough sugar for three people into her coffee and added a little cream. I was about to thank her for buying our savory late-night snack and suggest we head back home, when she cleared her throat.
âLeighâs lucky,â she said.
That was an odd statement, considering the young woman had just undergone a horrible beating from an ex-boyfriend that had sexually abused her daughter. I turned my head slightly to the side, staring into Mrs. Newtonâs eyes.
âWhy do you say that?â
âSammy.â
âShe is a very sweet little girl.â
What was she getting at? She had security cameras outside her house, for heavenâs sake, because her students had vandalized her house a time or two back in her teaching days. Sheâd bragged earlier in the evening about being the most dreaded and hated teacher in the high school.
âI lied when I told you I didnât have any children,â she said. She took a drink of her coffee, the steam rising in warm rivulets around her face. âI gave birth to a daughter.â
I blinked, then shifted in my seat to let my chin rest in my palm. âWhat was her name?â
She looked over my shoulder to a massive painted flower. âAlyssa. Sheâs still alive, as far as I know. I had her when I was 15. There was a couple I knew that had tried for years to have a child, but couldnât. I was young and had no business raising one. So I gave her to that couple, let them adopt her.â
I nodded. âSounds like it was the right thing to do.â
âIâm not so sure, now.â She leaned back and crossed her arms over her black vest. âMy ex-husband didnât want children. Heâd even gotten himself fixed.â She pointed to her lap. âThatâs how serious he was about not wanting them. And I married him knowing that, but I was young, 20-something. It didnât occur to me that I might one day want to have them.â She drank more coffee, then cracked a side grin. âYou might think I wouldâve had enough of the sorry little suckers in my classroom, year after year. I guess Iâm a glutton for punishment, because I got to the point where having a baby was all I really wanted. Itâs why Ray and I divorced. Well, one of the many reasons. He also couldnât keep his fly zipped when it came to younger, beautiful women. I guess there are multiple bonuses to having your balls out of commission.â
âHence why youâd like me to