Strange name for a bar, thought Vera.

She wondered if it was proper for a woman her age to go unescorted into a bar in New York City. The hell with it, she concluded, and crossed the lobby and walked into the restaurant-bar called Journeys. The place was almost empty. Vera made herself comfortable at a small table for two. Across the aisle from Vera at another table for two sat a man by himself looking at his clasped hands. He glanced up at her.

She smiled.

He smiled.

The man looked much younger than Vera, maybe in his forties. She guessed there was probably a good twenty-year age difference between the two of them. Maybe more. The man was well dressed in a suit and tie. He was quite good-looking. His hair was parted in the center. Hair parted in the center was old-fashioned, but Vera liked it. A lot. Based on looks and dress, Vera marked the man sitting across from her as a gentleman.

When the waitress arrived to ask Vera Bundle what she wanted, Vera surprised herself and asked for a daiquiri. A daiquiri, she mused when the waitress had gone away, my my. Vera Bundle had drunk a daiquiri only one other time in her life, the evening of the day she turned twenty-one. It was the drink she ordered at the bar of the Elvira Hotel in Steubenville on that historic night.

The restaurant’s windows were behind Vera. She turned and looked out onto Fifty-ninth Street. The storm was hitting the city hard. The tops of the trees across the street were already wearing little white hats. The waist-high wall that bordered Central Park had maybe three or four inches of snow on top if it. Vera sighed. How was she ever going to get back to her hotel? She hadn’t seen one single taxi go by outside. I should have listened to Mr. Figgus and stayed in my room. He warned me. I should have listened. Better yet, she thought downheartedly, I should have listened to Esther Wigton and stayed in Steubenville. Vera was pushing herself deeper and deeper into a new and more depressing mood.

The daiquiri arrived.

Vera took a sip, then twirled the stem of the glass a few times. As she did, Vera stole several glances at the lone man sitting across from her. She noticed he was constantly checking his wristwatch, maybe half a dozen times since she’d been sneaking looks. The man was obviously agitated and upset. Probably stood up by a good-looking young lady. See, said Vera Bundle to herself, you’re not the only depressed person in this city. She snickered and twirled her daiquiri stem twice. I’ll bet there’s a couple of million screwed-up people living here. At least. Well, doggone it, I’m not going to be one of them. I’m on vacation. I’m going to damn well enjoy myself even if it kills me. Vera Bundle took a sip of her drink. A big sip.