The card listed her name as Martha Jones and gave phone, fax, and e-mail address. The name was familiar, but she couldn’t place it. “Do I know you?”

“We’ve never met, but I purchased the painting from Mr. Squires.” She waited for a moment and then continued. “My employer is hoping to purchase more and would like to meet the artist.”

“Miss. Can I get a café mocha to go?” The male voice startled Katie and she quickly glanced around. She was appalled to see the line up at the counter. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Katie scurried off before Ms. Jones could answer.

“I’ll wait,” Martha spoke softly as she settled back to watch the young woman work.

“I’m so sorry. What can I get you?” Katie’s full attention was on the customer waiting first in line at the counter. For the next fifteen minutes, Katie filled all the orders cheerfully and competently. She’d caught Judy’s eye and sent the young waitress to take Ms. Jones’s order.

Katie was exhausted but she still summoned a smile as she bagged up two fudge brownies for a woman and her friend who’d just finished lunch. “Keep the change,” the woman said as she handed Katie four one-dollar bills to pay for her two-fifty order.

“Thank you. Please come again.” The response was automatic.

“We will. This place is great,” the other woman replied as she took the bag of brownies and headed for the door. Her friend hurried after her, arguing good-naturedly that she would carry the cookies.

Katie pulled the tip jar from underneath the counter. It had been a good lunch crowd, and she and Judy would do well today. Lucas’s policy was that whatever waitresses worked the shift split the tips. This was done daily and usually amounted to an extra five to thirty dollars a day each, depending on the crowd.

Shifting her weight to one side, Katie changed the money in the tip jar into bills and counted them into two piles. She managed a tired smile for Judy as she swung out of the kitchen with a tray of clean mugs and plates to be stored behind the counter. “Twelve bucks apiece. Not a bad day.”

Judy tucked the money into her jeans pocket and tugged her crisp white apron with the store logo back into place. She gave her head a jerk towards the window making her short blonde ponytail bounce. “That woman is still waiting.”

“I forgot all about her.” She glanced at the table and Ms. Jones smiled back at her. Knowing she had no choice, Katie piled two strawberry tarts, utensils, a fresh mug and the pot of coffee onto a tray and headed over to the table.

“I haven’t had breakfast or lunch today.” Katie poured fresh coffee for Ms. Jones and placed one of the tarts in front of her. “These are the best, Ms. Jones,” she added as she handed her a fork.

“Please, call me Martha. And by all means eat. After all, I’m interrupting your day.”

Katie slid into the chair across from her and poured herself a cup of coffee. She took her time, added sugar and stirred slowly as she tried to gather her tired wits about her.

Scooping up a bite of the strawberry tart, she savored the taste as she chewed. She was aware of Judy in the background, clearing dishes and cleaning tables, but she was too tired to feel guilty. Taking a fortifying sip of coffee she addressed the mysterious Martha.

“What do you want to know about the artist?”

Martha dabbed at her mouth with the napkin. Katie noted that the strawberry tart was almost gone. Martha noted her gaze and laughed. “It’s very good. I’m afraid I have a sweet tooth and couldn’t resist.” She leaned forward and stuck out her hand. “You know my name, but I’m afraid I don’t know yours.”

Katie was startled for a moment and then wiped her hand in her apron before shaking Martha’s hand. “Katie Wallace.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Katie. As I said, I recognized you from the painting immediately. It’s a wonderful likeness of you.”

“Thank you,” Katie answered, as Martha seemed to be waiting for some response from her.

“You must know that artist well?”

“Yes.”

Martha seemed impatient for the first time. “Is the identity of the artist such a big secret? My employer paid good money for that painting and is prepared to pay well if the artist has more that appeal to him.”

“Then why doesn’t your employer come himself?” Katie was surprised by her own audacity.

A reluctant smile crossed Martha’s lips. “Touché, my dear.”

Katie rubbed her hand across her forehead. The strains of the light pop music in the background only added to her already pounding headache. Usually, she enjoyed the radio, but after working all day on no sleep, it was more irritating than soothing. She was in no mood to banter with the stranger sitting across from her.

“Look, that painting was sold without the artist’s consent or knowledge.” Katie held up her hand to stop Martha from speaking.

“The artist won’t make any trouble, but look at it this way. You have an artist who has never shown any work professionally, doesn’t know if they’re ready to do so yet, and suddenly has an anonymous man with lots of money interested in the work. In this day and age, it’s not smart to give away too much information to someone you don’t know. This wasn’t a professionally brokered deal from a gallery.” Katie took another sip of coffee to help steady herself. “If he wants to meet the artist he’ll have to come here.”

“That’s impossible.” Martha sat up straight, all signs of her smile gone. She was all business now.

“Why?” Katie was just as blunt.

“Mr. Benjamin rarely sees anyone.”

“He’ll see me if he wants to learn who the artist is.” Katie rose from the table and piled the empty dishes and coffeepot back onto the tray. “Lunch is on me,” Katie added as she picked up the tray. “I’m sorry you wasted your time.”

“It was no waste at all.” Martha stood and picked up her coat and purse. “I suspect we’ll meet again.”

Katie watched the older woman leave. Unable to stop herself, she yawned. She tightened her grip on the tray to keep from dropping it. Praying for some extra energy, she hauled the tray into the kitchen.

For the last year, Lucas had allowed her to work from seven in the morning until six closing, four days a week. That gave her a full week’s pay, but allowed her to have three days to paint or to take weekend art seminars. Since their customers were mainly from the surrounding business district, they were busier during the week than on Saturday. Lucas closed the shop on Sundays.

Today was Wednesday and she still had one day until the end of her workweek. Depositing her tray on the counter, she closed her eyes and allowed her fatigue to wash over her. She was no good to anyone feeling as she did. The lunch rush was over for today. It was time to go home. She made a mental note to stop at the bank on the way home and deposit the large wad of cash still sitting in her coat pocket. Lucas would let her go early just this once.


Katie stifled a yawn as she tugged on her coat, glad that it was finally Thursday evening. Lucas had left at three for a dentist’s appointment, so she didn’t have to deal with his scolding for working late. She’d felt guilty over leaving early yesterday, so she’d stuck around after closing and done some extra work.

Taking one last glance around the shop, she set the security lights and locked the door behind her, tugging on it twice to make sure it was secure. She’d left a note on the counter in the kitchen, letting Lucas know she’d cleaned the refrigerators and the ovens. Katie figured by the time she came back to work on Monday, he’d no longer be in the mood to scold her.

Hoisting her bag higher on her shoulder, she started for home. She pulled her purple leather gloves out of her pockets, and tugged them onto her hands. She loved the color, but never would have spent the money on something so impractical. Lucas had given them to her for Christmas, and wearing them always made her smile.

She took a deep breath. The night air was crisp and clear, but tainted by the unmistakable odors of the city. Underlying smells of exhaust fumes and garbage were still there, but the winter wind beat them back until they were only a hint in the air. It was much better than the stifling heat of the summer when the less-than-pleasant smells seemed to stick to every breath you took. It had been a long, strange week and Katie was actually looking forward to doing normal things this weekend, like laundry and housecleaning.

Mentally organizing her to-do-list in her head, Katie was absorbed in her thoughts and not paying her usual attention to her surroundings. Something struck her hand, jolting her out of her reverie.

Startled, she jumped back and swung hard. She spun around, meeting nothing but air. Taking a quick survey of her surroundings, she noticed the dog from the night before sitting calmly in front of her looking bemused at her paranoid actions.

Katie’s heart was pounding in her chest, but her relief was so great that she started to laugh. Her laughter had a hysterical edge to it that she was unable to suppress. The dog casually licked his front paw and glanced at her as if to ask her what was so funny.

Leaning down she confronted her new friend. “You scared me,” she admonished even as she reached out her hand to scratch the dog under the chin.

“We didn’t mean to scare you.” The voice was low and deep and came from the shadows to the right of the building. “We hope you’ll accept our apology.” Katie backed towards the streetlight and glanced around for help.

“You wanted to meet me,” he added quickly. “My name is Cain Benjamin.”

Katie racked her brain, trying to remember why that name was familiar. Just as she made the connection a low, rough laugh came from the waiting man. “Obviously, I overestimated your eagerness to meet me.”