Page 2 of Gave Proof Through the Night

“Lucky,” I say.

“Skill.”

“Both,” I allow, because I’m generous when I’m right.

We’re winding down now. Rue has a plane to catch, and I’ve been awake since five and eating vending machine granola bars. Then Rue’s eyes snag on a man nearby, and she gives me the look.

One more.

I tip my chin. She drifts.

The lift is clean. Rue ghosts past him and the wallet is just gone. Easy peasy. She hands it off to me, then I’m on the move.

“Excuse me,” I say, touching the man’s arm lightly. He’s maybe sixty-five, white-haired, with a kind face. “I think this fell out of your pocket.”

He takes the wallet. Opens it. His whole face goes through the inventory, the relief, the almost-laugh because he can’t believe his luck.

“Oh, goodness.” He’s counting. Everything there. Every last bill. He looks up at me like I’m a small miracle. “Sweetheart, you have no idea.” He digs out two twenties. “Please. Take this. For your trouble.”

I stare at the money.

“I’m good,” I say.

“No, no, please.” He’s already pressing it toward me. “You’re such an honest young woman. Take it.”

Oh, this is the funniest thing that has happened to me in a while.

“I really can’t.”

“You just saved me a lot more than forty dollars.” He’s still holding the bills out. “Take it, honey.”

Honey. I love this man. I will not be taking his forty dollars.

“Keep it,” I say. “Have a wonderful Cinco de Mayo.”

He looks mildly devastated. I walk away.

Rue is waiting for me under a tree, biting her lip so hard she’s going to do damage.

The second I reach her, she loses it.

“An honest young woman,” she wheezes.

“Stop.”

“Have a great Cinco de Mayo.”

“I said stop.”

She doesn’t stop. We stand there another minute. I can tell Rue is hardly keeping it in. I’d say she doesn’t get out much, but that would be a lie. I let her amusement ride out because what else can I do? Besides. It was actually kind of funny.

And then I see… him.

A man standing near the waterfront, slightly apart from the tourist cluster by the dock, looking at his phone. Tall. Dark hair. Broad-shouldered. This man either has very good genetics or a very expensive gym membership (possibly both). He’s wearing a pretentious polo and tan chinos, and on his left wrist there’s a gold watch that’s calling my name.

“That mark’s mine,” I say.

Rue follows my eyeline. Pauses. “Because of the watch? Or because he’s kinda cute?”