Chapter 5: The Index Card

Clara did not call the number on the index card.

She put it in the front pocket of her apron, then moved it to her backpack, then moved it again into the apron pocket with the folded notebook page.

She had read the back of it forty times. Don't give him the debit card.

Her father had said it in the lot, smiling, and Miles had stood twenty feet away and heard all of it.

She did not know what to do with a person who knew that and had only written a phone number.

On Tuesday at ten past two, the cafe door opened and Miles Ferris walked in.

Beth, who was restocking the milk, saw him first and stood very still.

"Do not look at the door," Beth whispered.

"Why?"

"Because it's him."

Clara looked at the door.

Miles walked to the counter with his hands in his pockets and stopped at the register.

"Hi," he said. "Can I get a small black coffee? No sugar."

"Sure."

She rang it up. He paid in exact change, and she noticed he had counted it out beforehand.

"Name for the order?" she said, because the cup needed one.

Miles looked at her for a second.

"Miles," he said. "But you know that."

Behind her, Beth made a small strangled sound and went into the back.

Clara wrote MILES on the cup in black marker and handed it over.

He took it, said thank you, and carried it to the window seat.

She watched him sit. He did not drink it.