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promise of San Francisco. She’d never lived in a city that big and relished the thought of being completely anonymous. This town was tiny, full of rumors and small minds, and she wanted out. She was tired of everyone knowing about her and her gift.
    When they got to her little apartment, George walked her in, fussing over her to make sure she was okay. She appreciated the fussing. No one had cared since Ellie, and it felt good. At last she convinced him she was fine and that they’d meet later for dinner.
     
     
    Madeline squeezed into the corner booth at the diner, glancing around at the other patrons. She heard the whispering. Eyes averted as she met them. The waitress stood behind the counter, serving a platter of greasy eggs to Ed Hanson, one of the local ranchers. She exhaled with distaste when she caught sight of Madeline. Looking back at Ed, she whispered something, and he turned on his stool, staring at Madeline. Then he swiveled back, shaking his head. Madeline caught his murmur: “Don’t envy you, Edna.”
    Madeline felt for her bracelet under her sleeve, almost unconsciously. She felt the solid silver, the little box that was the focus of the piece of jewelry. Latched tightly, the decorative box held precious cargo. Through the fabric, she felt the tiny catch, ensuring it was closed. This had become her ritual when she felt sad or isolated. Sometimes, on rare occasions, she even opened the box.
    After more than ten minutes, Edna finally made it over to the booth. It was always the same. They hoped Madeline would just leave, or better yet, stop coming altogether.
    “Know what you want, honey?” Edna said, not making eye contact.
    As if Madeline could see into her mind by meeting her gaze, anyway.
    She took a deep breath, summoning up the energy to be polite to people who never gave her that in return. “I’m waiting for someone. Can I just get two cups of coffee with cream?”
    “Sure thing, hon.” Edna pivoted and moved away quickly. She filled up the two cups then frowned. “I just remembered I have to check on a delivery in the back.” She looked at Ed. “Would you be a dear?”
    He glared at her, then looked at Madeline over his shoulder. “I’m a customer, you know.”
    “Oh, Ed,” she said, waving at him dismissively, then disappeared through the swinging kitchen doors. Slowly, Ed got up from his stool, picking up the tray with the coffee and dish of creamer. He meandered over to her table and held the tray down, but stopped short of placing the cups on the table. Finally, Madeline reached up and took the cups and dish of creamers. Ed was so busy looking away from her that the tray started to tip. As the dish of creamers slid toward the floor, both he and Madeline instinctively tried to grab it. She got there first, and Ed’s hand landed right on top of hers. He yanked it away, eyes wide, and backed up into the occupied table behind him.
    “Goddammnit, Ed!” a woman snarled at him. “You’ve gone and made me spill my coffee!”
    “S-sorry,” he slurred, backing around the table without breaking his gaze on Madeline.
    The bell over the door rang, and a gush of fresh air spiraled into the hot diner. Madeline turned in the booth, relieved to see George. His long, dark coat caught in the wind as he pushed the door shut behind him. He turned then, scanning the diner, his long, black hair hanging freely about his shoulders.
    Madeline’s breath caught in her chest. He looked different. More … vibrant. A spark that hadn’t been there before ignited in her belly. His dark brown eyes positively glittered as they surveyed the diner and then fell on her. She gave a small wave, and he navigated his way through the tables to where she sat.
    “Hello, Madeline,” he said, grinning, his teeth brilliant white against the tanned glow of his skin. Something was undeniably different about him, but Madeline couldn’t quite place it.
    “Hi, George,” she said after a moment. “Have a seat.”
    He