Mary cried as Gertie came through the back door to the café. It was nine o’clock, and her sister had promised to be home in time to help serve breakfast to the crowd that arrived on the morning train. In the dining area, travelers filled every seat, and a dozen were standing outside the door. Enid, the other waitress for the morning, had threatened to quit unless Mary hired more help. Older and fighting rheumatism, she didn’t hesitate to complain. In the chaos, Mary had nearly set fire to a pound of bacon. Gertie grabbed an apron hanging on the back wall. “I’m so sorry, Mary. I—uh—I…I overslept.” When Gus dragged out his words, Mary ignored it. When Gertie hesitated, she suspected her sister of twisting the truth. Turning from a bowl of half-scrambled eggs, she took in Gertie’s appearance. She’d pulled her cinnamon-colored hair into a hasty coif, but Mary could see remnants of elaborate curls. She also smelled traces of expensive perfume, something a woman would wear on a special occasion.
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