The doctor nodded. He clapped Adam on the shoulder again before hurrying back toward the reception desk.
Laurel breathed easier once they were outside again. She didn’t say anything when they returned to the truck and made a short drive before Adam pulled into a parking lot outside the large building that was obviously Provisions.
“It used to be a grain warehouse,” he explained.
There was still a lot of industrial vibe going on, Laurel thought as they entered the building. It was the middle of the afternoon and more than half of the tables inside were occupied. As soon as Adam’s presence was noticed, people seemed to come at him from all sides. “Give me a sec,” he told them all and escorted Laurel over to the bar where wooden stools sat in perfect alignment.
He pulled one out. “Relax. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He turned on his heel and strode across the wood-planked floor, disappearing through a swinging door at the far end.
She’d barely slipped onto the stool when a young man approached from behind the bar. “What can I get you?”
“I don’t suppose you have hibiscus tea?”
He smiled. “New on the menu, thanks to Adam. I’ll have it for you in two shakes.”
“Thank you.”
She folded her arms atop the gleaming wood bar top and looked around. The row of black-and-white photography on one wall drew her attention and she wandered over to take a closer look. She wasn’t the only one. An older woman was standing in front of one photo in particular. Laurel stopped next to her. “Is that the pediatric center?”
“Back when it was an orphanage.” The woman barely glanced at Laurel as she donned a pair of glasses and leaned even closer to the image. “Look at all of those children. They don’t look unhappy, though, do they?”
Laurel found it disturbing to look too closely at the dozen or so children, dressed in shapeless dresses and pants that were inches too short. Two of the older kids were holding babies in their arms. All were lined up on the steps of the building that used to be the foundling hospital.
She realized the woman was still looking at her, clearly expecting an answer.
“No,” Laurel said, making herself take a second look. “They don’t look unhappy.” Some more solemn than others, but not unhappy.
“This baby. The one with the blanket.” The woman tucked the reading glasses into her bleached blond hair and tapped a suntanned fingertip against the canvas-backed photo. “First time I’ve seen the photo enlarged like this and I could swear that’s my mother. She never told me she was adopted, but what other reason would she be right there at the foundling hospital?” Her laugh was a little brittle. “My wild imagination. Next thing I’ll be wondering just what that monogram on her blanket means.” She shook her head slightly and gave Laurel another look. “Haven’t seen you before.” She suddenly stuck out her hand. “I’m Mariana.”
Bemused, Laurel shook her hand. “Of the Market?”
The woman gave a loud bark of laughter that was much less brittle this time. “That’d be me.” She patted her plump hips. “In the flesh. I remember a time when I knew every face in this town.” She lifted her arms, seeming to encompass all that surrounded them. “Now we have places like this and The Shoppes and gated neighborhoods where the rich folks go.” She peered at Laurel. “You look like one of them.”
There wasn’t anything particularly accusatory in her tone, so Laurel had no reason to take offense. “Don’t see how,” she said wryly. She looked down at her smiley-face tennis shoes that were more grungy now than white and the jeans she’d been allotted from the women’s shelter in Seattle. “I’m Laurel, by the way.”
“It’s not the clothes, sweetie,” Mariana said sagely. “It’s what’s underneath.”
“That’s even less impressive, I’m afraid.”
Mariana barked her laugh again, then spotted a slickly handsome dark-haired man enter the restaurant. “There’s my date,” she said a little mischievously. “See you around, Laurel.” She headed toward the man. “Yoo-hoo, Mr. Dimples,” she greeted with a wave.
Laurel looked back at the photograph, focusing on the two babies in particular, as if by doing so, she could force herself to remember leaving her own child. The one that had so taken Mariana’s interest had a blanket wrapped loosely around her legs. The corner that dangled had a clear “F” embroidered on the edge. While the other baby had no blanket at all.
Had Laurel left anything personal with Linus? Or had she simply just...left?
“Thinking about taking up photography?”
She startled at the sound of Adam’s voice. He was holding out a transparent to-go cup. “Your hibiscus tea.”
She took it, unintentionally brushing his fingers with her own. Feeling flustered, she focused on the enlargement once more. “I never had the talent for photography. Whoever did these enlargements did a nice job, though. Very evocative. You can almost feel the effects from the Dust Bowl and the Great Depression from their faces.” Feeling self-conscious, she busied herself flipping open the little flap on the cup lid so she could take a drink. “Are you finished already?”
“Yeah.”
A young woman with a black apron tied around her trim hips hurried toward them with a twine-handled paper bag in her hand. The name of the restaurant was splashed across the front. “Here’s your order, Adam.”
“Thanks.” He took the bag, not seeming to notice the adoration gleaming from the girl’s pretty brown eyes.
“She’s half in love with you,” Laurel told him once they were in his truck again. “That waitress.”
“She’ll get over it. Give me one of the sandwiches in there.”
“How do you know?” She looked into the bag. “Does it matter which one?”
He slanted her a look that gave her shivers, though she couldn’t quite say why. “Because they always do,” he said almost inaudibly. Then he cleared his throat. “And yes, it matters,” he added almost indignantly. “The one marked No Avocado.”
She pulled out the sandwich, unwrapped it
