"Sir?" Lewis asked softly. Daniel looked up, startled to realize that the waitress had turned toward the kitchen and the couple were alone again. He slid the photograph into its envelope. "Let's go," he said, but he did not reach for the handle. A movement at the diner door had caught his attention. Frank Larkin had stepped out from behind the counter and was heading directly toward the Whitcombs' booth.
Frank had come out to say that Maggie's shift was over. She could go home after clearing her tables, and he would decide in the morning whether he wanted her back. Unfortunately he said it loudly enough for three customers to hear, then added that people who wanted to run a charity should do so with their own money. Walter heard every word. He stood too fast, caught the edge of the table, and nearly spilled Evelyn's coffee. "This is because of us," he said. "Young man, don't you put her out because I came in short. I'll pay you. I'll come back with it."
Maggie hurried to steady him. "Mr. Whitcomb, please. The bill has already been paid." But Walter was reaching for the coins again, humiliation reddening his face. Evelyn's hand shook as she tried to gather the envelope and the little anniversary candle. A woman at the counter set down her fork, and the room fell into a silence worse than shouting. Frank looked suddenly uneasy, as if he had only now understood how public his words had become, but pride kept him from retreating.
A bell chimed above the front entrance. The man who came inside wore a dark suit without an overcoat, though the wind outside was sharp, and he stopped just past the threshold as if the room had taken away his breath. He did not look like a lost businessman in search of a restroom. His eyes went straight to the elderly couple, then to the small pile of coins in Walter's palm. Maggie saw his expression change, not to pity or surprise, but to something much harder to name. It was the expression of a person who has finally found a road he thought had disappeared.
"Excuse me," Daniel said. His voice was steady, but his hands were not. "I was wondering if there was room for one more at this table." Frank stepped forward automatically, already preparing the cheerful greeting he reserved for customers with money. Daniel barely seemed to notice him. Evelyn lifted her head and studied the stranger with the polite caution of an elderly woman who had learned that unexpected visitors often brought complicated news. Walter remained standing, still trying to protect the waitress from the consequences of his embarrassment.
"We're nearly finished," Walter said. Daniel swallowed. "That's all right. I don't need breakfast." He took one careful step closer and looked at the little candle in the apple pie. "Do you still put a candle in dessert when somebody has something worth celebrating?" Evelyn's fingers tightened around her napkin. The question was ordinary enough, but there was a particular tremor in his voice, and something about the way he stood with his shoulders drawn inward seemed impossible to place and painfully familiar.