Do I know you?

Jake pulled his notepad from the breast pocket of his broadcloth shirt and wrote the number. A puppy would be good company.

"Hey. Mister? Excuse me please." Mary tapped her foot and braced herself to push ahead with the cart. Normally, she tried to avoid Friday grocery shopping. She could not avoid this trip. Victoria had a craving for shrimp scampi.

Jake turned toward the voice. "Pardon," he said, "I was just ..." This woman looked like someone he knew, well, had known, in another lifetime. "Sorry." He extended his hand. "Jake Malley."

Mary frowned. She was not about to be picked up in a grocery store. She might be from West Virginia, but she was not born yesterday. This was a pick-up, wasn't it? Oh, be nice, Mary, she told herself and extended a hand. "Mary Meade."

"You have a little southern accent," he said. "I used to have some of one, when I lived south, before the service sent me overseas."

Mary hesitated. "I'm from West Virginia. Been here a while now, though." She nudged the cart forward. "Well, if you'll excuse me."

He nodded and pushed forward. The doors opened and he was just about out when his eyes caught a Help Wanted flyer. Mary's cart rear-ended him. "Oh geez, sorry, again, let me move this thing out of your way. Something here caught my eye.

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