The truth was that leaving the safety of my house was torture. I think she believed that if I kept doing it, it would get easier, but it didn’t. The anxiety and panic bubbled just beneath the surface, and I didn’t draw a full breath until we were back home. With any other woman, I would have just said no, but I found that being with Annabelle overruled my need to stay within the cocoon of my safe space. As for tonight, at least a midnight pancake run wouldn’t take long and I’d be sitting down, and so it was that I found myself in the passenger seat while she drove us to the neighborhood Denny’s.

“I miss diners,” she said. “There just aren’t that many diners in Phoenix. Back East, every town has two or three diners usually in those weird, silver tube-like buildings, you know, so you feel like you’re eating in an old railroad car. The coffee is hot, the food is plentiful, and the grease is thick enough to write your name in.”

“That may be true,” I said. It was true. There really weren’t that many authentic diners in Phoenix. “But we do have Mel’s Diner from the show Alice.”

“No, suh,” she said in full Boston mode.

“Yes, suh,” I countered. “It’s over on Grand Avenue, but it’s only breakfast and lunch. We should go sometime.” I couldn’t believe I’d just said that.

The smile she sent me about stopped my heart. “I’d love that!”

Of course she would.

We parked at the Denny’s and walked in. The place was hopping for one o’clock in the morning, and as I glanced around the restaurant, I felt woefully underdressed.

“Did we crash a party?” I asked.

“No, sugar, we always come here after a show.” A deep voice spoke from behind me. I turned to find a very tall black man, dressed in a glorious blond wig and a gold lamé dress, with full makeup and in heels. While I gaped and pretended not to, Annabelle extended her hand and said, “Hi, are you a performer?”

“Phoenix’s finest female impersonator, at your service.” He curtsied and then struck a sexy pose. “Did you recognize me?”

“No, I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m new in town.”

“You’re forgiven then, cutie,” he said. He batted his long purple eyelashes at her. “I’m ManDee. You can catch me at Club Twenty-One every Friday at nine thirty.”

“I’ll definitely check it out,” she promised.

“Bring this handsome fella with you, too.” ManDee winked at me and sauntered away as if the industrial flooring beneath his enormous high-heeled feet were the red carpet.

Annabelle and I watched him for a moment and she said, “I sure wish I could walk like that.”