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long stretches of time, we try to find him but aren’t always successful. And, even if they know where he is, the Veterans Administration can’t give out that information—even to family.”
    I could hear such frustration in his voice that I offered to look for Alan. I heard myself telling George that Fort Myers Beach is a small town and once I started looking, I was sure to find out where Alan was staying and what he was doing.
    By the time we said good-bye I was already certain I’d bitten off more than I could chew.
    I went inside and gave the surfer dudes their check. I smiled at the toddler who’d fallen asleep in his chair and poured the mom another cup of green tea to enjoy along with the quiet. I bussed some dishes into the kitchen. Bridgy was loading the dishwasher and listening to Miguel go on and on about the wonders of Bow, his gorgeous black Maine Coon.
    â€œShe is the most extraordinary cat. Yesterday I was sitting on the patio when I heard a splash. Bow was roaming around, wandering back and forth between the house and the edge of Estero Bay but I thought no. She wouldn’t jump in the water. Cats and water, ay, never. And a few minuteslater, there she is on the patio, shaking her dripping-wet coat, with a fish in her mouth. She enjoyed it for her dinner.”
    â€œYou let her eat raw fish?” Never a sushi girl, I shuddered at the thought.
    â€œOf course not,
chica
. I skinned and boned the fish and sautéed it in olive oil. First, though, I dried and combed my beautiful girl’s coat.”
    Behind Miguel’s back Bridgy gave me an “okay” sign. We had been instrumental in getting Miguel and Bow to be roomies. The sleek, gorgeous but extremely uppity Bow once belonged to a frequent book club member, and when the woman died unexpectedly, Miguel adopted the cat. It turned out to be a true love match.
    I thought I heard the toddler stirring so I stuck my head out the kitchen door. But he was still asleep and his mother was browsing the bookshelves. She gave me a wave and went right back to leafing through the fiction section.
    â€œDon’t run away just yet,” Miguel commanded. “I have an idea for tomorrow’s book club.”
    I turned my attention back to the kitchen.
    Done with the dishwasher, Bridgy was pouring herself a glass of water. She held the pitcher, filled with lemon and lime slices, high in the air, as if asking if I wanted some, and I nodded.
    Miguel motioned me over to the pastry work counter.
    â€œTomorrow the mystery ladies meet and I have a special treat for them.”
    He eyed a plate covered with a yellow gingham dish towel.
    I made sure to “oh” and “ah,” lavishly applauding his thoughtfulness. Finally, he waved two fingers, signaling permission to remove the towel.
    Having gotten in trouble before, I knew to lift the towel carefully with both hands so as not to disturb the goodies underneath. And there they were—question mark cookies.
    I clapped my hands.
    â€œGoodness. Perfectly shaped question marks! And the icing!”
    Miguel nodded. “I thought color would make the shape pop.”
    Every cookie was iced in white, but each one was edged with orange, red or yellow gel, clearly defining the shape. The display was guaranteed to wow the book club members, or as I called them, the clubbies.
    I was still praising Miguel when I heard a wail from the dining room. The toddler had woken up. I rushed in. His mother was bundling him and his toys back into his umbrella stroller.
    She handed him a plastic action figure, one I didn’t recognize. He cooed and began to bang the toy on his knee.
    â€œI was wondering. My mother lent me
Winds of War
by Herman Wouk and I loved it. I’m dying to know what happens to Pug and Rhoda and oh, just everybody. Could you order me a copy of
War and Remembrance
? I’ve got to know.”
    I took her phone number and tucked it on the bulletin board so I