Chapter 6

Ten months ago

The night was wet and the sort of bitter cold that slipped into your marrow and would not leave without a long soak in a steaming hot bath.

Nora was exhausted, she was hungry, and she was in desperate need of a glass of wine. She'd had a terrible court case that day, a real heartbreaker. It was a car accident, and the defendant was a pizza delivery guy who'd tried to slide through a yellow light with his young son in the back seat. The light had turned red before he made it through, and the other driver—her client—had T-boned him. Her client's blood alcohol was over the limit, but that didn't matter in this civil lawsuit. The pizza driver had been at fault for running the red light.

Nora imagined his son, earphones canceling out the world, his gaze on his phone screen. Now he was paralyzed from the waist down. She couldn't stop the anguish imagining that boy's life now. How difficult the road ahead would be for him and his family as he learned to negotiate life in a wheelchair. Of course, he could go on to have a very productive life, but the getting there would be the test.

When the jury found for the plaintiff, she watched the pizza man's shoulders slump with the weight of his responsibility—a son who would need a lifetime of care because of his mistake, and on top of that, he owed the other driver damages for running a red light.

When the verdict in favor of their client was reached, it felt to Nora as if no one from November and Sons cared about that little boy except her. As they exited the courtroom, John Rodriguez, her cocounsel, high-fived their client. He turned to Nora to do the same, but dropped his hand and asked incredulously, "Nora... are you crying?"

"What? No!" She hastily wiped a tear from her cheek. This corner of the law was a tough business, and sometimes it felt as if her heart wasn't big enough to contain all the sorrows of these cases. It wasn't fair—one decision could alter a person's life forever, and too many times, the November law firm feasted on that mistake. No matter which side she represented, she felt dirty participating in what was often a heartbreaking process.

She declined the offer of drinks with the excuse she had an early day tomorrow, and frankly, John and the client seemed relieved she wasn't going. She dragged herself back to the office, and after spending some time staring blankly at the wall, she decided to go home.

James had popped in. "Congress Avenue is closed for a protest at the capitol if you're thinking of going that way. And there's a wreck on Lamar if you're thinking of going that way."

Nora groaned. "Should I spend the night here?"

"Would not recommend," James said. "Have a good night. And try to cheer up—the dude was reckless. He ran a red light with his kid in the back seat."

Yes, but... people made mistakes. They just did. The only person she knew who didn't believe in honest mistakes was her father. And she lived in fear of making one in his presence because he treated her like he treated defendants—with no mercy.

She decided to take a walk, hoping the cold would perk her up.

By the time she reached the corner store, she was a frozen Popsicle and it was starting to mist. She went inside to warm up and grab something to eat.

The man behind the counter didn't even glance up when she walked in. She wandered down the aisle to the selection of "fresh" foods and crowded into the narrow space beside a man in an overcoat and a scarf wrapped around the lower half of his face. She perused a paltry selection of wilted, prepackaged salads. The egg in the only Cobb salad left looked a little suspicious, but not as suspicious as the four Caesar salads with anchovies. Who thought anchovies on salads was a good idea for a fast-food operation? Nora reached for the Cobb salad at the same moment the man did. She looked up into a pair of lovely eyes that reminded her of patches of bright blue sky.

"It's the last Cobb salad," she said.

"I know. I'm being chivalrous by taking it, because I can't in good conscience let you eat this garbage."

Nora smiled for the first time that day. Maybe that week. Maybe that month. "I'm fine with garbage. I eat a lot of it. It's a palate thing with me—very unsophisticated."

His smile lifted his brows, and he pulled his scarf down to reveal a shadow of a beard. "Same here. That's why I left the better garbage for you—the last slice of pepperoni," he said, using his chin to indicate a point behind her. She turned to see a slice still sitting under a heat lamp, oil pooling on it. Nora wrinkled her nose.

"On second thought, don't eat that," he said and held out the container with the Cobb salad to her. "Here. It's yours. But if I were you, I'd leave off the egg."

They both looked down at the salad. Up close, it was even more suspect. "Am I crazy, or did this look a lot better a minute ago?"

"You are not crazy. You know what really looks good? The hot dogs—shriveled to perfection."

Nora laughed. At least she thought she did—but at the same moment someone screamed.

"They're not that bad," he said, and they looked to the front of the store where a commotion was erupting. Someone was waving a gun around. The store cat, which was resting on the top of a stack of water bottles, looked bored by the gun, even though the robber waved it right in front of its face.

Nora's heart skipped a few beats. "Hey," she whispered, her voice shaking a little, "is that... Darth Vader?"

"Um... yeah," the guy said, his gaze locked on the gun.

Everything seemed to slow to a crawl around them. Nora had always wondered what kind of person she would be in an emergency. This was definitely an emergency, but she didn't feel like she was going to pass out, which was what she assumed she'd have done. Weirdly, she thought she might be the one to race to danger, which was definitely not something she would have believed about herself.

"No one move!" Darth Vader roared and swung the gun around, pointing it down the aisle at them.

The guy at the counter said, "Dude, that's not even real."

Darth Vader took offense. He pointed the gun at the ceiling and fired. The cat leapt off its perch and bolted for the back of the store. The man behind the counter raised his hands. "I don't want any trouble."

Nora, who apparently was not going to race into danger after all, couldn't seem to make her feet move. Neither could the guy—they stood paralyzed, watching disaster unfold before them.

"Then hand over what you've got."

"Can't. The drawer is locked."

"Don't tell me it's locked unless you want everyone in here to die!"

"That's not good," the guy next to her muttered.

"What do you want me to say? It's locked and I can't open it."

"What do you mean, you can't?" Darth sounded as if he thought the clerk was pranking him and pointed the gun at his forehead.

"Well, this has escalated quickly," the guy muttered to Nora, holding his arm across her body as if to shield her. Nora slowly put down the salad.

Darth Vader swung the gun toward them again. "All of you, in the back."

Glass crashed somewhere and an older woman in a puffy coat darted past them to the back. But Nora and the guy froze.

Darth pointed his gun at the guy. "You."

"Me?"

"You and her, in the back!"

"Okay," he said, holding up his hands. He turned to Nora. "I think we should go to the back."

Nora's heart had climbed to her throat. "What if he shoots us back there?"

"What if he shoots us here?"

"Good point." Nora feared that if she turned her back, she'd be dead. But standing there didn't seem to be a better option. So she forced herself to turn, to make her legs move, and walked, the guy behind her and Darth Vader on their heels. She could hear his heavy breathing and felt as if she were floating above herself, watching this catastrophe unfold. Her panic was making her lightheaded. They hurried into a small storeroom, where a woman was crouched next to a mop bucket filled with dirty water.

Darth shut the door behind them and plunged them into darkness—the only light was the dim fluorescent light filtering in through the small square window in the door. The woman began to whimper. They heard something being dragged across the floor, then pushed against the door. Nora felt like she was floating in space—it was all so surreal.

Light suddenly flooded the supply closet.

The guy had groped around until he found the switch. He took one look at the woman and walked over to her, crouching down. "You're okay. Take a deep breath and release it slowly."

"We're going to die."

"I don't think so. He just wants some money. Breathe." The guy sat with her a minute, then looked up at Nora. "You okay?"

Was she okay? This was the type of thing that should have had her on the floor. But she felt incomprehensibly sturdy. Sounlike her normal operating procedure. She nodded.

"Well, this is... something."

"Do you think there's any chance we're dreaming?"

"Pretty sure I didn't dream the gun."

Nora glanced up at the window in the door. She looked around and spotted a milk crate, pulled it over, and stood on top of it so she could see.

"What's happening?" he asked.

Darth was talking with his hands. "I'm not sure, but I think they're arguing."

The woman began to frantically murmur Hail Marys. The man got up and edged in next to Nora, and together—their arms pressed against each other—they peered out the narrow window. His scent, spicy and sweet, filled her head. She thought she could even hear his heart beating. Or maybe that was hers. It was all so very strange, because whatever was happening, Nora could summon no hysteria. She was more aware of the man beside her than the actual danger they were in and didn't feel much fear, her faithful companion. It was like she was watching an absurd play. She briefly wondered what it would be like to die in a hail of gunfire. Would it hurt? But like the guy, she was beginning to believe Darth didn't have it in him to shoot. He seemed to want to plead his way through the robbery.

They watched for a few moments until Nora couldn't help herself. She said, "Luke... I am your father," in her best Darth Vader voice.

The man's blue eyes locked on hers with shock. But then he tried to swallow down a giggle. So did Nora. A moment later, they were laughing like two kids at a solemn church service.

"What is the matter with you?" the woman hissed. "We could be killed at any moment."

"One of us should probably call the police," Nora suggested.

"I'm calling my husband," the woman said and yanked her phone from her purse.

The guy pulled his phone from the pocket of his overcoat. "My guess is that later, Darth will list not taking our phones as one of his biggest blunders. What's happening now?"

Nora peered out the window. "The cat is back. He's on the top shelf near the chips."

"I meant with the robbery."

"Oh." The clerk had come out from behind the counter, his hands up. He went to the door—at least Nora thought he did, but she couldn't see—and then they heard the unmistakable sound of the metal door coming down to cover the storefront. "Oh."

"What?" the woman cried.

"He pulled down the garage door thing. We're stuck."

"Yeah, hello. I'm at a corner store and it's being robbed. The man locked us in the back room and is arguing with the clerk," the guy said into the phone. "He's got a gun."

He looked up; his gaze met Nora's. "We're customers... Three. Um... hold on." He lowered the phone. "What's the cross street?"

The woman answered, but Nora didn't hear what she said—she was fascinated with Darth Vader. She tried to picture his preparation for this. Had he planned to rob the corner store and thought that a striking costume was his best bet for staying anonymous? Or did he put on the costume and think, Yeah, I should rob a corner store? Maybe the latter, because he was pacing now, as if he had no idea what he was doing. "He's so bad at this," she mused. "Part of me wants to go out there and help him out."

"Are you crazy?" the woman nearly shouted.

It was not an unfair question, as Nora wasn't sure herself. "Not officially. But it's hard to watch someone flail about like that."

The guy glanced warily at her.

"I'm not going out there," she reassured them. "I'm just saying." But how would it feel to step into the maw of real danger? Would she like the adrenaline surge? Probably not, since elevators speeding to the top of tall buildings gave her heart palpitations. Was it normal to wonder such things in the middle of a crisis?

"I see," the guy said into the phone. "Okay... right. Right. No, no, we are... well, we are at the moment."

"We are what?" the woman begged.

"Okay, thanks. Yes, this number." He clicked off the phone and slid it into his pocket.

"What did they say? Is someone coming to help us?"

As if on cue, they heard sirens.

"Yes, they are coming to help us... but apparently we're in a bit of a hostage situation."

"Looks pretty much like a full-blown hostage situation to me," Nora said.

The woman started whimpering again. The guy stepped up beside Nora, and they peered out into the store. The cat was asleep. The clerk had gone back behind the counter and was smoking a cigarette. Darth was still pacing.

"He's got to be sweltering in that helmet and mask," the guy mused.

"What do you think his endgame is?" Nora asked. "Ransom?"

"Unclear," the guy said thoughtfully. "Maybe we should make ourselves comfortable." He stepped back and held out his hand in a gentlemanly manner to help Nora down from the crate.

"Thanks." He had kind eyes. There was a warmth to them that she didn't often see in others. And she felt weirdly safe with him. "You know what I wish?"

"That you'd never come into this corner store?"

"Definitely that. But also that I'd held on to that salad."

"I don't know," he said as he arranged two crates for them to sit on. "That could have added to the problem. We'll have to make do with Starbursts." He pointed to the shelves behind her; she turned to see two boxes of Starbursts neatly stacked.

"Starbursts are my favorite! My grandpa was right—he always said there is a silver lining to any situation, and there you go."

"I like your grandpa. What's your name?"

"Nora. Yours?"

"Jack." He smiled. "What's your name?" he asked the woman.

She sniffed. She clutched her purse even tighter to her body. "Juanita."

"Juanita, would you like some Starbursts?" He reached around Nora for a box and ripped it open. Packages of Starbursts tumbled to the floor. Jack picked up several and held some out to Nora. "You look like a pink Starburst girl."

That delighted her, because she was. "I love the pink ones."

They sat side by side on the crates, eating Starbursts like grapes. Every so often, she or Jack would get up to peer out the window to see what was going on. Jack reported that the clerk and Darth were involved in a serious but less argue-y conversation. A few moments later Nora said that Darth had taken off his mask and was on the phone. "His hair is sandy blond."

"No way," Jack said. "I would not have guessed Darth to be blond."

Juanita, finally convinced they were not going to die, called her sister. As she talked about the latest thing someone's son had done, she sorted her Starbursts into piles of red, orange, yellow, and pink. The pink ones she tossed to Nora.

Nora and Jack talked about anything that came to mind. "Like, why Darth Vader?" Nora asked as she unwrapped another pink Starburst. "Why not Chewbacca?"

"I'd go for Yoda," Jack said.

"Princess Leia," Juanita said. "But then you could see my face."

"Princess Leia is the most popular Star Wars character," Nora said with an absence of any proof other than her gut. "I mean, I think."

"Nope," Jack said, shaking his head. "Luke Skywalker."

"No way," Nora said. "Han Solo would come before Luke Skywalker."

"You're both wrong," Juanita piped up. "Lando Calrissian is the favorite."

They went on to rate Star Wars characters in descending order of likability.

From there, they somehow got on the topic of the weirdest things that had ever happened to them. "I was once mistaken for Ryan Reynolds, the actor," Jack said. He was leaning against the stack of milk crates, his legs long and crossed at the ankles, his hands behind his head, looking a little smug at the comparison. "He was filming a movie here and, like, this woman was convinced I was him and would not take no for an answer. So I signed an autograph."

"You don't look anything like Ryan Reynolds," Juanita opined.

Jack shrugged. "She thought so." He looked at Nora. "What about you?"

She didn't even have to think about it. "I saw the ghost of a very happy dog in the middle of the Madewell store in the Domain."

"No way," Jack said.

"One hundred percent," she said. "I was holding up a jacket to myself in the mirror, and this small white dog with a curved tail trotted past behind me. I looked all over the store for him to pet... but there was no dog."

"Were you high or something?" Juanita asked.

She was obviously giving off a different sort of vibe to Juanita than Jack. "Nope."

"I believe it," Jack said. "I believe anything is possible."

That delighted Nora. She used to believe that too.

As they talked, Nora could feel the sparkle in her growing. The warmth in Jack's eyes drew her in, and when he reached for a Starburst and his fingers brushed her hand, or his knee pressed against hers, a thousand little shivers of sensation shot through her.

It was staggering, really—she'd felt so hollow inside since her grandpa had died, devoid of any feelings. She'd forgotten what an emotional connection felt like. And now she couldn't stop looking at him, this miracle man in a corner store.

Juanita returned her full attention to her phone call, and Nora and Jack named three things that were giant pet peeves about living in Austin, both listing robbery at a corner store before you've had a chance to buy a soggy salad right at the top, followed by how hard it was to meet people, and, of course, traffic. They ranked Halloween candy and then positive traits they liked in a partner. Nora was privately thrilled that they had almost the same list. They played rock paper scissors for the lone bottle of water in the storeroom, only to discover that Juanita had helped herself to it as she had discussed her brother's latest girlfriend with her sister.

Eventually they heard a lot of noise and hopped up to see what was happening. The metal door had been raised from the entrance and the police were taking a distraught Darth away without incident. The clerk watched with a bored expression, smoking another cigarette. The cat stood up and stretched, then hopped down and strutted in front of one of the police officers all the way to the storeroom. When the officer announced herself and opened the door, the cat went to the litter box, tucked in beneath the shelving. The officer looked at all the Starburst wrappers, neatly piled into a pyramid. "So... I guess everyone is all right?"

They said they were fine. Nora was better than fine. She was glittering from the inside out, high from the connection. She didn't want the night to end—she imagined they would pull a cot into the storeroom, and they would live on salad and Starbursts and Monster drinks, and the cat would come to visit, and they would talk about everything and laugh and maybe kiss and even more. Just the two of them like that. No need for the outside world at all.

"I need you all to wait here for the crime unit," the officer said. "They're running a little behind after the protests. Plus, you don't want to go out in this."

The three of them looked past her to the windows. A deluge of cold rain was coming down.

Jack and Nora glanced at each other as the officer walked away. "Well, Nora, this has been a pretty wild night."

"The wildest," she agreed. It felt as if there were a million things to say, so many she didn't know where to begin. Because she'd thought that was the end, of course. The cavalry had come; the bad guy had been arrested.

But it was not nearly the end.