She and Berni were ten minutes early, but Willie was already seated at the same back table where he and Piper had talked a week and a half ago. “That’s him,” she said.

“You didn’t tell me he was so good-looking,” Berni whispered.

He’d slicked what was left of his hair to his pink scalp. His dress shirt looked as though he’d tried to iron it himself, and he’d accessorized his gray trousers with what appeared to be a new pair of white sneakers. Piper slipped her arm around Berni’s waist, grateful for the solid feel of her. “I wanted to surprise you. Let’s go.”

Berni moved forward as though she were heading for her execution. Willie rose, and Piper introduced them. Berni charged right in. “I know you must think I’m a crazy old lady.”

Piper couldn’t let that pass. “The first time you saw Willie he was wearing a cheesehead.”

“That’s true,” Willie agreed as they all took their seats. “It keeps people away.”

Berni regarded him with concern. “Why would you want to do that? People need other people.”

“That’s what my kids tell me when they call. Once a week but they can’t be bothered to visit.”

“You’re lucky to have kids. Howard and I couldn’t. Howard had a low count, if ya know what I mean.”

Willie nodded sagely. “That’s too bad. Tough on you both.”

Berni dropped her purse to the floor. “I’ll say. When Howard—”

Piper jumped up. “I have some calls to make.” She didn’t, but she was already depressed enough without having to hear about Howard Berkovitz’s low sperm count.

Berni waved her off.

Piper camped outside the coffee shop, sitting at one of two metal café tables designed for warmer days instead of the city’s typical November gloom. The low-hanging gray clouds obscured any possibility of sunshine. She wondered how long it took the average person to get over a broken heart. Maybe if she tripled that time, she’d have an idea of when she might return to normal again, because right now, she was stumbling through every day feeling as though she had jagged, broken pieces sticking out of her skin.

Her phone rang.

“Piper, it’s Annabelle Champion.”

Annabelle’s cheery voice made her feel marginally better. Annabelle chatted for a few minutes before she got to the point. “I’d like to meet with you about doing some work for me. The company I hired to do background checks has gotten lazy, and I want you to take over the job.”

A month ago, Piper would have been ecstatic, but all her edges had grown soft, as if her old self had reached its expiration date. Duke whispered in her ear. “It’s no business for a girl. You shoulda believed me.”