I found her staring at her Sudoku book as it lay open before her. She grunted thanks as I put the plate down. Without looking at me, she began slathering butter on her food, then drenching it with maple syrup. I grinned as she licked her lips as she worked. She might say she wasn’t hungry, but she still had an unconscious olfactory response to the enticing scent of the chocolate-laced food. One of the best parts of having the café was seeing the delight people experienced as they enjoyed good food. But she didn’t take that first bite. She just sat there as the pancakes cooled. I slid onto the bench across from her. “What is it, Andi? What’s wrong?” She finally looked at me, her eyes wide and uncertain. “I don’t know what you mean. I’m fine.” “I don’t know what I mean either.” I’d have felt better about that “I’m fine” if her voice hadn’t quivered. “Are you feeling sick?” “Of course not. I’m fine. I never get sick.” After a second’s hesitation she said, “It’s just that Jase is dead.”
