“As long as it’s legal, I’m not particularly selective about the jobs I take,” he said, bluffing.
“What about waiting tables? Is that a job you would consider?”
“Waiting tables?” He had a vague image of himself sitting in a dimly lit restaurant while white-coated servers set plates of food in front of him. Obviously a glimmer of memory—but where was that restaurant? And who had been sitting on the other side of the table for two he’d envisioned? “I can wait tables.”
She nodded, looking curiously satisfied. “Good. If you’re interested, I have a job for you. You can start as soon as you’ve recovered sufficiently to be on your feet for several hours.”
“You, uh, have a job for me?”
“Yes. I own a little diner downtown. The Rainbow Café. We’re open Monday through Saturday for breakfast and lunch, and we do a brisk business on week-days. I’ve just lost two employees. You can work for me when you’re released—or as soon as you’re physically able, if you need a few days to recover first.”
Sam blinked a couple of times. “Um…a diner?” He couldn’t seem to stop foolishly parroting her.
She nodded brusquely. “I can’t pay you a lot, of course, but you’re in no shape to work at construction or other more physically challenging jobs. You can work for me at least until you recover all your strength, which might take a few weeks.”
“Why are you offering this, Mrs. Schaffer?” He was pretty sure this generous offer was unusual from a complete stranger.
Her smile was angelic. “Because I need your help, Mr. Wallace. And because you need mine. That seems like a fair trade, doesn’t it?”
Surely his memory would return by tomorrow. Maybe he would remember that he did, indeed, have insurance—or a couple of million dollars set aside for emergencies. But just in case… “Thank you. I accept your offer.”
She nodded as if there’d never been any doubt. “You’ll need a place to stay, of course.”
“I’m sure I can—”
“I have a place you can use until you get something more permanent. It’s a little one-bedroom guest house my late husband built for my mother a few years before she passed away. It’s completely separate from the house Serena and I share, so you would have your privacy. You’re welcome to stay there rent-free while you’re working to pay off your medical bills. If you want to stay longer than that, we can discuss rent then.”
“You’re being very kind.” Scary-kind, actually. Did normal people really do things like this?
She beamed at him. “I’ve been accused of making snap judgments, but I’m almost always correct in my instincts about people. I know you’re a good man, Sam. You just need a little help right now.”
He was humbled by her blind faith in him. He hoped she was right. He wanted to believe he was one of the good guys, but for all he knew, he could be a bum or a con man. If the latter was true, he was pulling a hell of a scam this time. He’d even managed to fool himself.
Marjorie stood. “That’s all settled, then. I’m sure my daughter will be by to visit you later. You let her know if you need anything, you hear? We’ll take care of it.”
“Mrs. Schaffer—” He wanted to stand, but that didn’t seem like a very good idea just then, since he would probably fall flat on his face. “Are you sure about all this? As touched as I am by your faith in me, we both know I’m still very much a stranger to you. I would hate to disappoint you.”
She patted his head—exactly as though he were that sick child in need of reassurance, he couldn’t help thinking again. “My husband’s favorite quote was the one that says there are no strangers, only friends we haven’t met yet. Now that we’ve met, I’d like to think we’ll become friends, Sam. I’ll see you soon.”
Some time later he was still staring at the door through which she had disappeared, and still utterly bemused by her unexpected offers. Just what kind of place had he landed in, anyway? Very little so far seemed real to him.
The name Brigadoon flitted through his mind, and he had a vague idea that it was a fictional town with strange, magical properties. From a book he’d read, perhaps, or a film he’d seen—he couldn’t quite remember. He did remember that the people who lived there could never escape.
Was Edstown, Arkansas, his own personal Brigadoon?
Later that day, Serena paused in the doorway of the hospital room in a very uncertain frame of mind. Sam was lying in his bed, staring at the television mounted high on the wall. The TV was tuned to a cable news network, and he was watching as intently as though he would be tested on the subject matter later that evening. His expression was similar to the one that had tugged at her heartstrings before. The one that looked…lost.
“Mr. Wallace?”
He didn’t quite start, but she’d obviously taken him by surprise. He turned his head to look at her, then offered a faint smile of greeting. “Ms. Schaffer.”
“You called me Serena before,” she reminded him, stepping farther into the room.
“And you called me Sam before.”
“Yes.” She perched on the edge of the straight-backed visitor’s chair beside his bed. “I heard you met my mother today.”
“Yes. She’s quite…unusual. A delightful woman.”
“Both adjectives are correct,” she assured him. “She is delightful…and most definitely unusual.”
“Is she always so trusting of strangers?”
Watching his face closely, Serena shook her head. “She isn’t particularly gullible, if that’s what you’re asking—though I can see why you might think she is. She really is a shrewd judge of character, and a sharp businesswoman. She simply makes her decisions about people very quickly.”
“And she’s never been swindled by anyone she trusted so quickly?”
“Not as far as I know. At least, not in any significant way.”
He shook his head in obvious amazement. “That’s hard to believe. Did she tell you she offered me a job? And a place to live?”
She had, actually—and Serena’s first response had been dismay. “Have you lost your mind?” she had asked her mother. “You’ve invited a total stranger to live in our own backyard?”
“Serena, he’s a very nice man who needs our help,” Marjorie had answered calmly. “What kind of people would we be if we turned our backs on someone in that poor man’s circumstances?”
“And what will happen to us if he isn’t a very nice man?”
Marjorie had waved off the question with typical confidence in her own judgment, leaving Serena to do the worrying.
“My mother has a soft heart and a generous nature,” Serena said to Sam. “I would hate for anyone to try to take advantage of those traits.”
“If that’s a not-so-veiled warning, I received it loud and clear.”
She kept her smile cool. “I hope so.”
“I take it you don’t share your mother’s predilection for snap judgments.”
“I tend to be a bit more cautious about giving my trust.”
He was watching her now as closely as she’d studied him earlier. “That’s very wise of you.”
“The