They were early, and Jane mentioned that Eva-line would most likely want to thank Jane herself by buying the first round of drinks.

"We're not having beer, are we? I have to stagger home and cook dinner," Shelley said.

"I think any drink is fine," Jane said. "Since I'm doing the driving, I'll have a soft drink. It might make the ride home a little mellower."

Evaline waved at them from the door and approached. "This is on me. What do you ladies want?"

"Do they have cold bottled water here?" Shelley asked.

With a laugh, Evaline said, "I'll ask. What for you, Jane?"

Jane said, "An RC if they have it. Otherwise, whatever you think."

Evaline was back a few minutes later carrying their drinks on a tray. A can of RC Cola for Jane, a bottle of cold water for Shelley, and a root beer foaming in a frosty mug for herself.

"You're not a part-time waitress here, are you?" Shelley asked.

"No, but I've waited my share of tables."

"Jane said you're relatively new to Chicago," Shelley prodded.

"I've been here about nine months. But too busy to get to know much of anyone. I inadvertently chose an apartment where most of the others are elderly women who eye my boots, jeans, and truck with deep suspicion. Haven't had time to find a more congenial space to live."

"Where did you grow up?" Jane asked.

"All over Michigan," Evaline said. "In foster homes."

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to pry," Jane said.

Evaline pushed back her curly hair with an immaculately clean hand with practical short nails and said, "It's not prying. Most of it wasn't as bad as you hear. I was very lucky to spend several years with good people. The man was an English professor and the woman taught high school chemistry. They were in their forties and had no children, so they took me in. I was about eleven then. My mother had died of drink. And no one knew who my other relatives were. This couple