Across the street, the playing children stopped momentarily to look at her. Apparently finding her of no interest, they then returned to their game. Caddie walked down the sidewalk away from them, heading toward town.

As expected, she wasn’t impressed. What she assumed was the main street of town was hardly teeming with people. A handful walked up and down, but mostly the sidewalks were empty. Even the cars that drove by her seemed anxious to be on their way to somewhere else, somewhere more lively.

She walked aimlessly, hoping against hope to find something—anything—of interest. Even a distraction would be welcome. Barring that, she decided she would settle for simply finding something to eat.

Ahead of her, a red and green neon sign proclaimed the merits of Johnny’s Pizza, Best in Monterey! I wouldn’t brag about that, thought Caddie as she entered the restaurant. The place did nothing to change her opinion. A scattering of tables were covered in the ubiquitous vinyl red-and-white-checked tablecloths found in every cheap Italian joint. Harsh lights illuminated a scarred and battered counter where customers lined up to order one of the dozen or so specialties of the house spelled out in plastic letters on the menu board overhead.

Caddie scanned the list, looking for something that sounded even remotely appetizing. She was considering a sausage calzone when a male voice interrupted her thinking. “What can I get you?”

The speaker, a young man, stood behind the counter, wiping his hands on a stained white apron. He looked at Caddie wearily, as if he’d asked the same question a million times already, which she guessed he probably had.

“I don’t suppose a Chinese chicken salad is an option?” Caddie said.

“Funny,” the boy said.

Caddie leaned on the counter. “I didn’t think so,” she said. “In that case, what do you recommend?”

The boy laughed. “It’s a pizza joint,” he said. “How about pizza?”

Caddie looked at him. Despite the apron, he was attractive. He looked a couple of years older than she was. His brown eyes sparkled, and his face, while certainly not model handsome, was rugged. In a blue-collar kind of way, she qualified. And was that actually gel in his black hair? She reappraised him favorably.

“What’s your specialty?” she asked, her voice taking on a lighter tone.

“The calamari and anchovy is a big hit with tourists,” he answered.

“Do I look like a tourist?” asked Caddie.

The boy gave her a lopsided grin. “You don’t look like you’re from around here,” he said.

Caddie smiled. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said. “But no squid for me. How about pepperoni and extra cheese?”

“Good call,” said the boy. “Anything to drink?”

“A Corona,” Caddie said.

He looked at her. “You old enough?” he asked.

“For what?” said Caddie, looking him right in the eyes.

He hesitated a moment, then said, “Coming right up.”

When he returned a minute later with her pizza slice and the beer, Caddie rooted in her pocket for her money. “How much?” she asked.