Kate pulled up a chair opposite her. “What kind of job?”

“I sling burgers at the Corner Café. Had to lie about my age because they’d think I was too old. I don’t ordinarily hold with lying, but there are times when it feels damn good. No reason why a seventy-two-year-old woman can’t sling burgers. I used to sell girdles in a specialty shop, but they retired me. Sold girdles for forty-two years. Just as well I was retired. I was sick of stuffing all those fat women into girdles and bras.”

She stirred her coffee, drank it down scalding hot, and stood to leave. “I gotta go now. Got a lot to do.” She took a checkbook from her purse and stood at the kitchen counter while she filled in the blanks. “Here’s two month’s rent,” she said, handing the check to Kate. “Now all I need is my key.”

Kate took a key from the hook over the toaster. “Here’s the key, but the roof has a hole in it…”

“I don’t care about the roof. Last year when I retired I gave up my apartment and moved into a senior citizens’ home. The place is driving me nuts. Nothing but old people in it. All they serve is food you don’t have to chew. You ever see pureed beef? Looks like dog food.” Elsie dropped her key into her purse. “I don’t mind the hole in the roof. Looks like you patched it up okay. What I need is a bed without them dumb metal rails on the side.”

Kate watched the front door close behind Elsie Hawkins. “Did that really happen?”

“I think you’d better hurry up and get a bed.”

“It takes days, maybe weeks, to get a bed delivered.”

“There’s a big cash-and-carry store in Alexandria. You go get dressed, and I’ll rent us a truck, then well go buy some furniture.”

Kate smiled at him. “I like the way you keep saying ‘we.’ ”

“There’s a price for my assistance.” He reached out for her, but she moved away.

“Oh, yeah? What’s the price?”

“Undying gratitude, friendship everlasting, a compliment once in a while. And I want to see what this silly robe feels like. What is this stuff? It looks like fake pink sheepskin.”

“Yup. That’s what it is. Fake pink sheepskin.” She watched him warily. “This wouldn’t just be a ploy to fondle me, would it?’

“Boy, that really hurt.”

“Just checking.”

“You get fondled a lot?”

“Almost never.”

“I can believe that.”

“Really?” Kate stuffed her hands into the pockets of her robe. “Is that an insult?”

“It’s a compliment.”

“Oh.” Her face lit in a smile. “Thanks.”

He reached out for her again—this time with more success. He ruffled her hair and smoothed the collar of her bathrobe. “Soft.”

“My robe?”

“Your hair. The robe is okay, too.”