Lashonda felt the room tilt.
Not Riverside.
Not this place.
"What about Tommy?"
"I called him this morning," Dmitri said. "Told him to start looking too."
They sat quietly.
Outside, people walked past the windows wrapped in warm coats.
The city continued as though nothing unusual had happened.
"If you know anyone," Dmitri said eventually, "anyone with money, anyone who might invest..."
Lashonda immediately thought of Arthur.
His expensive watch.
His ring.
The brownstone.
Clearly he had money.
But she had no way to contact him.
She did not even know his last name.
And even if she did, Lashonda would not have asked.
That was not why she helped him.
"I don't know anyone like that," she said.
Dmitri nodded.
"I didn't think so. But I had to ask."
They would all begin looking for work.
Give themselves the month.
Hope for a miracle none of them truly expected.
Lashonda tried working her shift, but fever blurred everything.
She coughed constantly.
Several times she had to retreat into the back room.
By noon, Dmitri had seen enough.
"Go home."
"I'm okay."
"No. You're sick. Go rest."
Lashonda took the bus back to her apartment and collapsed into bed.
She slept through most of Saturday.
Then most of Sunday.
Monday morning, there was an envelope beneath her apartment door.
Eviction warning.
Full rent due Friday.
If payment was not received, proceedings would begin.
Lashonda sat on the edge of her mattress and counted her money again.
$163.
Rent required: $420.
Short by $257.
Even if she worked every available shift that week, the math did not work.
The diner was at risk of closing.
Her apartment was at risk.
She was sick.
She could barely afford medicine.
For one painful moment, Lashonda wondered whether she should have kept the coat.
Maybe she should have asked Arthur for something.
A phone number.
A ride.
Anything.
Then she rejected the thought.
No.
She had made the correct choice.
Diane would have done exactly the same.
But knowing you had done the right thing did not keep an apartment warm.
It did not pay rent.
It did not guarantee a job.
Tuesday morning, Lashonda forced herself back to work.
At 9:15, Maria burst through the kitchen doors holding her phone.
Her eyes were wide.
"Lashonda, you need to see this."
Maria shoved the screen toward her.
A news article from Saturday morning filled the display.
CITY PHILANTHROPIST ARTHUR BRENNAN FOUND SAFE AFTER BLIZZARD DISAPPEARANCE.
Lashonda stopped breathing for a second.
There was a photograph.
The old man.
Her old man from the storm.
Except in the photograph, he looked completely different.
Professional headshot.
Confident smile.
Expensive suit.
"That's him," Lashonda whispered.
Maria looked at her.
"What?"
"That's him."
Maria nearly shouted.
"Do you know who he is?"
Lashonda started reading.
Arthur Brennan, 72.
Prominent investor and philanthropist.
Reported missing Friday evening during a medical episode associated with early-stage Alzheimer's disease.
Wandered from his residence.
Returned safely home shortly after 11:00 p.m.
A family statement expressed gratitude toward an unidentified person who had helped him during the storm.