"I suppose so," he said. "I can't remember what it's about, and I don't have a computer. I don't even have a pad of paper, though I don't think I write that way. I'm hoping something will come to me." He looked around. "Got anything that I can use as a belt? These things will fall off of me if I don't do something."
She left, without a word, and he'd put the shirt and shoes on by the time she was back. She had several safety pins in her hand. She didn't ask, but just went to kneel behind him, lifting the shirt and pulling the waistband of the pants tighter. He felt her hands for half a minute and then didn't. He turned to find her standing close to him.
"Thanks," he said.
"You're welcome." She took a deep breath, and his eyes strayed to her chest. He was pretty sure she noticed, but she didn't say anything. "I won't make you ride," she said.
He followed her to the cashier's office, watching the sway of her hips. She had a really nice ass and it kept him half hard as they walked. He had no idea if he could put the bill on his credit card, or if he did, if it would exceed his credit limit. He thought it was almost funny that he could remember that there were things like credit limits, when he couldn't even remember what the clothes they had cut off of him looked like or if he'd ever worn a checkered shirt before. He arranged, with relatively little fuss, to make a down payment on his card and be billed for the rest over a period of months. That was possible because he had a local address, which he showed them on the rental agreement.
Jessica walked him to the front doors. He put the coat on. It was tight over the shoulders, but it was better than nothing.
"Okay," he said, feeling a pleasurable surge at knowing he was about to be free of restraint. "Now all I need are directions to my rental. I hope you know where it is," he said. "Cause I sure don't. How do I call a taxi?"
"We don't have a taxi company in Pembroke," she said smiling. "We're a little small for that."
"So, how am I supposed to get there?" he asked. "It looks cold out there." He looked through the windows. "And it's dark too. What time is it?"
"Oh my!" she said. "It's seven-thirty. I didn't think about that." She frowned and appeared to be thinking. "I'm almost off shift," she said. "If you can wait another half hour, I guess I could take you."
"Deal," he said.
There wasn't really anything else he could do.
He was sitting in a chair in the lobby, leafing through a People magazine that was eight months old, but still held nothing in it that sparked any memories in him. It was eight when she came up to him, bundled up in a hooded parka. It had a dark fur ruff around the hood that set off her light brown face nicely.
"Ready?" she asked.
"I suppose so," he said, standing up. "It seems kind of early to be discharging somebody ... doesn't it?"
"It's because you came in in the middle of the night," she said. "If we kept you here past eight, they'd have to charge you another day, and they knew your insurance situation was a little odd."
"Oh," he said.
They went outside and the cold hit him like a brick. They got into her car and she started the engine.
"It will warm up in a bit," she said.
"Any chance I could buy you breakfast?" he asked, thinking of how, when he got to the rental, it would be empty.
She looked over at him.
"I forgot about that, too," she said. She sounded disappointed in herself. "You really have nothing, huh."
"Not yet," he said. "But life goes on. I'll figure something out. I guess I need to find a job."
"I thought you were an author," she said, pulling the car out onto frozen streets.
"I am," he said. That feeling was rock solid now. "But all I have is twenty-three dollars and a credit card. I'm going to have to call the company and have the bill sent to me here, and I'll have to have something to pay it with. I might have a bank account somewhere, but I don't know where, and I don't know if there's any money in it or not, so a job seems in order."
"I never thought about that," said Jess. She tried to imagine being in his situation, and was almost pathetically glad she wasn't.
They ended up at The Early Girl Eatery, of course. They got a warm reception when they went in.
"Well Hi!" yipped Lou Anne. "Look at you! All walking around and acting normal and everything!"
"You didn't come see me again," he said. He wondered why he'd said it as soon as it left his lips. She didn't owe him anything.
"I'm sorry," she moaned. "Work was crazy, because they closed some roads and people got stuck here. I had to work overtime, and still take care of Ambrose. I
meant
to come see you again."
"It's okay," he said. "I have no idea why I even said that."
"Because I promised," she said. "And I like to keep my promises. I'm so sorry. How can I make it up to you?"
"You can serve us a delicious breakfast that is nothing like what they have in that hospital," he said firmly. "For which I will render a handsome tip."
Kris leaned back and patted his stomach, which felt huge to him, but was still flat as a board. Jess sat across from him, delicately cutting up her French toast into small bites, which she transferred to her mouth with a fork. Lou Anne had been back to the table five times, pouring only a few tablespoons of coffee into his cup each time and beaming when he extolled the delicious virtue of Hank's cooking.
"Ohhhhh," he groaned. "That was soooo good."
"I would hope so," said Jessica. "You ate like a starved man."
"I had to," he said. "I don't have anything to eat at home." He blinked. "That sounds funny, calling it home, when I haven't even seen it yet." He ran a hand through his hair. "And yet, it's the only home I know about." He slumped. "I have no idea how this is going to work out. I'm an author without anything to write with, and without an idea for a book. I've got a home I haven't seen, and no clothes and no car."
"Maybe that's what you should write about," said Jess, pushing a single piece of French toast to the side of the plate. She was a picky eater and there was just a little too much black on the edge of that piece.
He blinked again. "You might have something there," he said. "I mean think about it. If this isn't an adventure, what is? I have no memory and I'm stuck in a small town I've never been to." He stopped. "At least I don't
think
I've ever been here." He grinned. "Anyway, I have no plans and nothing to draw on from my past. The local policeman thinks I'm a criminal of some sort. So does Lou Anne, for that matter."
"What?" Jess was suddenly alert. "What are you talking about?"
"When she came to see me in the hospital she asked me if I was a mobster," he answered.
"Oh pooh," she said. "That's nonsense. You're mysterious ... yes ... but I'm sure you're a very nice man."
"That's another thing," said Kris as Lou Anne approached the table for the sixth time. "I managed to meet the two most beautiful women in the whole town, within twenty-four hours of getting here. This has all the makings of a great romance novel."
Lou Anne poured his coffee cup full again, while Jess covered hers with her hand. She smiled at both of them.
"Isn't he the charmer," giggled Lou Anne. "And intelligent too. Who would have thought a stranger would have such good judgment?"
None of them noticed that three booths over, Clyde Watson was paying off a losing bet that the stranger would end up with coffee in his lap for flirting with Lulu, while Buzz Wilder grinned and took his money.
Lou Anne appeared one last time, the check in her hand. She slid into the booth across from Kris, bumping Jess's hip with her own to make her friend move inward.
"I'm on break," she said, handing him the check. "So what are your plans?"
"Jessica has agreed to drop me off at my rental house," he said. "After that ... I have no idea."
"Wait a minute," said Lou Anne. "I can see about a dozen flaws in that plan." She ticked them off on her fingers. "First, you have no transportation. Second, you have no food. Third, you have no clothes. Where did you get those clothes?" she asked curiously.
"Salvation Army," he said. "They donated them to me. It was really nice of them."
Lou Anne turned to her friend. "You can't just dump him."
"I don't know what else to do, Lulu!" exclaimed Jess. "I've got stuff to do today and I have to go in early tonight because Sandy is puking her guts out all over the place and we're short staffed."
"We can't just abandon him," said the waitress.
"You've done plenty for me," said Kris. "You saved my life. I'm the one who owes
you.
"
"Yeah, sure," said Lou Anne, waving a hand. "When you're rich and famous and on the best seller list, you can pay me back." She stiffened. "Hey! What if you
are
rich and famous and on the best seller list?"
"Don't think so," said Kris. "That cop said he checked and nobody's ever heard of me."
"Oh." Lou Anne's slump, and the disappointment in her voice made him smile.
"Don't worry," he said. "With thoughts of you two to motivate me, I should be able to write something that will make every woman who reads it blush and have to go change her ... " He stopped suddenly, and blushed himself. "Sorry."
"You're very naughty, aren't you," said Lou Anne archly, and in a tone that made it perfectly clear it was a statement, rather than a question. Then she grinned. "So you're a romance novelist?"
"I don't actually know," he sighed. "But why not? It can't be all that hard. Some steamy looks, a few stolen kisses, a little intrigue with handsome men and beautiful women ... "
"I don't know," said Lou Anne. "I like reading that trash and I'm still a pretty demanding reader too. I know within the first five or six pages if I'm going to finish it. There's a lot of junk out there."
"Well then, perhaps you'll lend a little editorial support to my venture," suggested Kris. "You know, keep me going in the right direction?"
"Me?" Lou Anne's smile was brilliant.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," said Jess, her voice petulant. "I saw him first, Lulu. You might have saved his life, but I gave him a sponge bath. We've already been intimate." She grinned as the man across from her turned red again.
"You,"
said Lou Anne, turning to her friend, "were going to just abandon the poor man in a strange place, if I might remind you."
"I can't help it!" objected Jess. "I told you. I have stuff to do." She looked at her watch. "In fact, you took so long to serve us breakfast that I'm going to be late getting to the bank and I
have
to talk to them this morning!"
Lou Anne grinned. "Don't tell me you bounced another check."
"It's
not
funny!" complained Jess.
"You'd have money if you quit giving it all to the bank in penalty fees," said Lou Anne. "I wish you'd let me teach you how to balance your checkbook."
"I know how to balance my checkbook." Jessica pouted. "I just don't do it ... that's all. I'm very busy."
"Yeah," laughed Lou Anne. "Busy going to the bank all the time to explain why you keep bouncing checks."
"This will be the last time," stated Jessica firmly. "I promise, okay? Now, I have to go. Can you take care of Kris?"
"Me?" squealed Lou Anne. "I have to get some sleep and pick up Ambrose!"
"Well, you can't just abandon him," said Jess, pushing Lou Anne out of the booth and putting on her coat. "You said so yourself."
"You just did!" snarled Lou Anne.
"Ladies, please," said Kris. "I'll manage. I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself."
Lou Anne turned on him. "Really? And how are you going to manage that? You don't even know where you live!"
"Bye!" yipped Jessica.
"Hey!" yelled Lou Anne.
Bets were made left and right as the other customers looked on with interest.
"See you later!" called Jessica. "Thanks for breakfast, Kris."
"But ... " Lou Anne turned to look at Kris.
"Oh!"
she snarled, stamping one foot.
"Could I get some coffee over here?" complained a trucker, who had never been in The Early Girl before.
More bets were made and the clink of silverware almost stopped as the regulars waited for things to play out.
To the disgust of four patrons, Lou Anne did not explode or make anyone suffer her wrath. She picked up Kris' bill and held out her hand, waiting while he pulled out the twenty from his wallet and laid it there. Then she turned on her heel and went to the register, making change, which she promptly put in her apron pocket. She made a trip to the trucker's table, taking him his coffee and his check. Then she went to a line of pegs on the wall at the end of the service lane and took down her stained jacket.
