Though Mary had been best friends with Cora since they’d met in undergrad, she’d never been particularly close to Sebastian while Cora was alive. Always just known him as the guy who’d accidentally knocked up Cora and then married her a few months later. After college Cora and Mary had visited back and forth between Mary’s hometown in Connecticut and New York, always making sure to keep in close contact even though they were a state away. Cora had begged Mary to quit trying to make her mother happy and just get the heck out of Connecticut already. But Mary had never quite been able to pull the trigger on the move. It had been Cora’s death that had ultimately spurred Mary’s move to Brooklyn; she’d found herself unable to turn away from Cora’s bereft husband and three-year-old son. She’d inserted herself into their lives, feeling like it was the last real gift that she could give to her best friend. It hadn’t taken long for Tyler, Sebastian and Mary to become a tripod. The three adults who kept Matty’s life running. Who kept Sebastian’s life running if they were truthful about it.

But the help hadn’t been one-sided. Mary would never have been able to get Fresh up and running if it hadn’t been for Sebastian’s handiwork around the formerly dumpy shop. If it hadn’t been for Tyler dropping off late-night food and helping her go over the books, charming the pants off of any female customer who happened to find her way in.

They’d become a family. One that, if she was being truthful, Mary missed very much. She knew it was the proper way of the world that Sebastian would fall in love and find a partner who could help him raise Matty, and Via was truly the jackpot of all jackpots. And Mary had been beyond thrilled for Tyler and Fin’s budding love. But she also had more nights to herself lately than she was used to having.

And thus, she was grabbing her purse and shouting to Sandra in the back room that she was cutting out of work early. If Sebastian had a free evening, Mary fully intended to occupy it.

Mary bobbled her small leather purse and Sebastian bent down to grab it off the floor. “Hey, somebody left an ID down here.”

He straightened up and handed it over.

Mary laughed aloud when she saw whose ID it was. And the absolutely terrible picture of him. Of course John Modesto-Whitford wouldn’t smile in his driver’s license photo. Of course he’d glower at the camera like it had just hit him with a your-mama joke. What must it be like to live inside his surly mind?

She pictured the flustered way he’d ripped bills from his wallet the other night. It must have fallen out in the scuffle.