The noonday sun had broken through the overcast sky and a few stray beams, colored by the stained-glass window, danced on their table. Jenny blinked and turned her head.

Erich was studying her. “Jenny,” he said suddenly, “you must have wondered about my reaction when we met. Frankly I thought I was seeing a ghost. Your resemblance to Caroline is quite startling. She was about your height. Her hair was darker than yours and her eyes were a brilliant green. Yours are blue with just a suggestion of green. But there are other things about you. Your smile. The way you tilt your head when you listen. You’re so slim, just as she was. My father was always fretting over her thinness. He’d keep trying to make her eat more. And I find myself wanting to say, ‘Jenny, finish that sandwich. You’ve barely touched it.’”

“I’m fine,” Jenny said. “But would you mind ordering a quick coffee? Mr. Hartley will be having a heart attack as it is that you arrived when he was out. And I have to sneak away from the reception early which won’t endear me to him.”

Erich’s smile vanished. “You have plans for tonight?”

“Big ones. If I’m late picking up the girls at Mrs. Curtis’ Progressive Day Care Center, I’m in trouble.”

Jenny raised her eyebrows, pursed her lips, imitated Mrs. Curtis. “‘My usual time for closing is five P.M. but I make an exception for working mothers, Mrs. MacPartland. But five-thirty is the finish. I don’t want to hear anything about missed buses or last-minute phone calls. You be here by five-thirty, or you keep your kids home the next morning. Understan?’”

Erich laughed. “I understan. Now tell me about your girls.”

“Oh, that’s easy,” she said. “Obviously they’re brilliant and beautiful and lovable and…”