She Asked a Stranger to Pretend to Be Her Grandson

CHAPTER 1 - THE QUESTION IN THE DINER

"Would you pretend to be my grandson?"

The old woman asked it so softly I almost thought I'd imagined it.

I looked up from my burger. She stood beside my booth with both hands gripping a silver walker.

"Excuse me? Ma'am."

"My landlord is coming today," she said. "He thinks I have no family."

I should have said no.

I had tattoos up both arms and a week's worth of bad sleep on my face. I was exactly the kind of stranger mothers warned their daughters about.

Instead, I stood up.

"Okay. I'll help."

Her relief came fast and painful, like she'd been holding her breath all morning.

She opened her purse with shaking fingers and pulled out a few folded bills. "This is all I can pay you."

I pushed the money back. "You don't have to-"

A photograph slipped from her purse and floated to the floor between us.

I bent to pick it up.

The picture was old and worn at the edges. A younger version of her stood in summer sunlight, holding a little girl with dark eyes and a stubborn chin.

My mother's face.

Not older. Not tired. Not before she died.

Just little.

I stared too long.

"Who is this little girl?" I asked, though I already knew.

The old woman's eyes filled at once. "My daughter, Anna."

My throat closed.

I handed the money back to her and kept my eyes on the photo so I wouldn't have to see her face yet.

"You don't have to pay me," I said.

Then I made myself look at her.

"Because Anna is my mother."

The color drained from her face. The photograph slipped from her fingers and hit the tile.

And before either of us could speak again, the diner's front bell rang.

A man in a tan coat stepped inside and called out, "Mrs. Alvarez, I hope you're packed."