There were new tables, brighter lights, and modern paintings hanging on the walls, but the old brick fireplace remained in the center of the dining room. So did the large window overlooking Main Street.

Harris smiled faintly.

“Table for one?” asked a young hostess behind the counter.

“Yes, please.”

She picked up a menu but hesitated as she looked him over. Her eyes moved from his rain-stained coat to his worn shoes and finally to the small canvas bag hanging from his hand.

Before she could answer, a sharp voice came from behind the bar.

“Emily, we’re nearly full. Don’t put people wherever they want.”

The speaker was Vanessa Cole, the restaurant’s floor manager. She was in her early thirties, perfectly dressed, with dark hair pulled tightly behind her head and an expression that suggested she had already been disappointed by the world several times that day.

Emily looked uncomfortable.