The truth was, Liz's concern over her mother had gotten worse. Usually her mom came down to make sure the hectic lunches went well. Today there had been no sign of Nancy Parker. Liz couldn't help wondering if her mom was still upstairs talking to herself. The image hurt and confused her, and it made her angry.

"Maybe saying anything to you was a mistake," Liz said, turning from her friend. After all, Maria was still one of the friends of the happy little aliens living secretly in Roswell. Maybe she complained about relationship issues with Michael, whose very human faults seemed more to blame than any extraterrestrial ones, but she remained in the thick of them. Not like Liz.

"Talking to me is never a mistake," Maria said. "Look, maybe there's a reasonable answer for why your mom was having a conversation by herself this morning."

"What?"

Maria sighed. "I don't know. Yet."

Liz went over to the serving window to check on her orders.

Maria followed, catching up with her at the window. "We'll figure this out. I promise."

Overhearing them, Michael turned from the flat grill. "Figure what out? What's up with Liz's mom?"

Maria frowned and shook her head. "I really shouldn't have told you."

Michael looked at Liz, then back at Maria. "You barely mentioned it," he said in a monotone.

Neither Maria nor Liz spoke.

"Doesn't that help?" Michael asked.

"No," Liz and Maria told him at the same time.

"I've got a right to know about your mom," Michael said defensively.

"How do you figure?" Liz demanded.

"I work here too." Michael shook his spatula at the frying burger patties. "I depend on this job. Without this job I have no house. Without a house I'm sleeping in a cardboard box." He shook his head defiantly. "And I'm not sleeping in a cardboard box. You don't have to worry about that if your mom is headed for the loony hotel and the Crashdown closes down."