Jess looked at her and at the paper she was clutching in her hand. “Hi.” She stuffed whatever she had rescued from the bin into her pocket. “I, ah, I lost a phone number I noted on an envelope. From…from a friend.”
If Jess had said that without the blush and the panicked expression, it would have been a valid explanation. But something was off. Maybe it was something she wanted to keep hidden from her mother. Or a date. Not something that should concern Lena.
“Okay. Glad you found it.” Lena walked past Jess, leaned her bike on the fence, and locked it with both chains. The thirty-year-old bike had been a yard sale find and wasn’t valuable, but it was the only one she had and her backup for the days her car acted up. At least during the summer.
“Yeah. I, um, need to go.” Jess hurried up the path that led to the main house. After a few steps, she stopped and looked over her shoulder. “Where did you come from? Work? Do you always work that late?”
Since when did Jess show an interest in her day? But Lena had nothing to hide, and the flustered version of the usually overconfident Dr. Riley was oddly endearing. “I picked up a double shift at the café today. The other waitress flaked out.” Even though she was so tired she could fall asleep on the spot, she was still happy to have put in the hours. Now she could afford to get her car checked out.
“Oh, you’re waitressing? Where are you working?” Jess’s blush had receded, and she studied Lena through narrowed eyes.
“Cashew Cult. It’s an organic café close to the farmers market.” Lena shifted from one foot to the other under Jess’s intense gaze. When she didn’t say anything and seemed to be waiting, Lena talked on. “They use local produce, and the food is delicious. Especially the cakes. But the evening food is great as well, a lot of Mediterranean and Middle Eastern stuff. You should check it out.”
Oh no. Why had she invited Jess? The last thing she needed at work was a critical customer. But she believed in the quality of the food, even if serving it was far from her dream job.
“Maybe I’ll have to see for myself. Sooner or later I have to go out in public with Ella.” When she mentioned her daughter’s name, Jess’s face softened. A hint of the attractiveness Lena had seen in the hospital popped up like the first shoots of green after a long winter.
“Good idea. You wouldn’t be the only mother with a stroller. Is Ella doing better?” Maybe Lena could get her to warm up a little if they talked about her daughter.
“What do you mean?” Jess tensed like a cat about to pounce.
“I saw you two a few nights ago in the garden. She seemed to be having difficulty going back to sleep. The poor girl sounded unhappy about something.”
“Oh, that.” Jess relaxed again. “She’s better now. I switched to a different formula. She seems to love it.”
“Glad to hear it.” Lena wanted to prolong the conversation now she’d found a topic that didn’t lead to immediate antagonism, but she was ready for a hot shower. And she had to hurry because she expected her clients soon. She freed her bag from the bicycle rack. “I’m sorry, but I need to go. See you around.”
Jess nodded and strode off toward the main house without a backward glance.
Lena followed more slowly, feeling every stone dig into her soles as if she was walking barefoot on the gravel. She so wanted to rest her feet for a few minutes, but she had bills to pay.
Ella was finally fed, changed, and cuddled back to sleep. Jess hadn’t had a minute for herself since she’d returned to her room. She wanted nothing more than to curl up and sleep like her daughter, but she still had work to do.
She fetched her laptop from her desk and carried it to the window seat overlooking the garden. As a teenager, she had spent most evenings here, planning her future. Before she sat down, she pulled the crumpled envelope from her pocket. A ridiculous lampshade with penguins juggling balls in all colors of the rainbow cast a soft light. It wasn’t so bright as to disturb Ella, but it provided enough light to read.
She straightened the paper with her hand. It was addressed to Lena Walker at a different address in Seattle. She guessed this was the apartment she’d had to move out of. What was more interesting, however, was the part of the return address that was still legible. Someone had written to her from a women’s correctional institute in Illinois. The name of the sender had been damaged by the opening. No matter how she held the paper or squinted, the lower halves of the letters didn’t make any sense to her.
Jess typed the name of the prison into the search bar on her browser and clicked the link that appeared. The website looked professional, with nicely done pictures. They even had a page where you could look up current and former inmates and their crimes by name, number, or date of birth. She hadn’t known something like that existed. She typed in Walker but hesitated before pressing send. Did she really want to know if Lena was registered there?
Even if the information was public, it felt like a violation of privacy. But Lena could be a con artist or thief who preyed on old widows like her mother. If she was honest with herself, Jess doubted that theory, though. What criminal worked three jobs?
She looked out the window to the garden house and moved a bit on the seat, trying to find a more comfortable position. Had the window seat always been this narrow, or had her mom changed it during the remodeling of the house?
Darkness had fallen since she’d come inside, and the lights
