When he saw me get off the bus without luggage, he didn’t ask me questions. He just surrounded me with his arms.
“I’ll take you home.”
I slept for almost two days.
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When I finally woke up, I was waiting for scrambled and toasted eggs on the kitchen table, next to an envelope containing three hundred dollars and one direction.
“My friend Martha owns the restaurant on the main street,” said Aunt May. He needs help and will not ask questions. Until you decide what to do, use your mother’s maiden name.
Three days later, Lena Harris disappeared.
Lena Morgan started working at Martha’s Diner.
PART 2 — THE LIFE I BUILT IN SECRET
The restaurant was small and ramshackle, with cracked cabins and a menu that hadn’t changed in decades. But the coffee was strong, the customers friendly and no one treated me with disdain.
