The girl was turned toward the lights, rosy in sleep and glowing from the red bulb that was directly above her face. With her long eyelashes and slightly parted lips, she looked like a porcelain doll with rouge-painted cheeks. In the silence of the shop, with only the hum of the cooler behind the counter, Hannah could hear her breathing softly in slumber.

Hannah admired the picture she made for a moment, and then she put her investigational skills to work. The girl’s fingernails were clean and so were her clothes and her sleeping bag. That meant she hadn’t been on the streets for long. She wasn’t starving, either. Her left arm, the one that wasn’t covered by the sleeping bag, was nicely rounded. On the whole she looked healthy and younger than Hannah had expected.

People usually looked younger while they slept. The cares and worries of the day were erased by peaceful oblivion, and a stress-free persona emerged. Perhaps this girl wasn’t as young as she looked, but Hannah had her doubts. She seemed innocent, almost untried, on the brink of discovery but not yet comfortable with her newly adult form.

Hannah began to frown. She really hated to wake her uninvited boarder just to tell her that she could sleep in the coffee shop. It was almost the same as a nurse waking a patient in the hospital because it was time for a sleeping pill. If the girl was a runaway, there was little joy in her life. And right now she appeared to be dreaming about something pleasant, judging by the half-smile on her face. It seemed a shame to shatter her happiness, but it had to be done and the sooner the better. There was no way Hannah was going to let someone who appeared to be far younger than her youngest sister go back on the streets again! Besides, Norman was standing outside the front door shivering, and it was time to let him in.

“Wake up,” Hannah said softly, hoping she wouldn’t cause the girl to panic. “I need to talk to you.”

The girl groaned an inarticulate protest and made a little moue of distaste. “Not yet. Go ’way, Mom.”

She had a mother. Hannah added that to the mental list of facts and suppositions she’d gathered. “Come on, now. Wake up. You can go back to sleep right after you talk to me.”

The girl looked as though she was going to roll over and ignore the intrusion, but then some internal sense of preservation must have kicked in. She sat up with a jolt, her eyes flew open, and she stared hard at Hannah. “Who are you?”

“Hannah Swensen. This is my coffee shop. Who are you?”

“I’m Candy.”

“Candy who?”

“Candy R…never mind. You don’t need to know my name.” The girl wiggled from her sleeping bag and got to her feet. “Please don’t call the cops. I’m leaving right now.”

And before Hannah could open her mouth to say that there was no need to run, the girl grabbed her sleeping bag and raced for the front door, unlocking it in a flash and dashing out.