The old man said, “What do you want? Same as Jamie?”
Lindsey said, “Right.” Sight unseen. A line formed behind them while the old man sliced onions and tomatoes, put together hot dogs and condiments. The newcomers all knew the drill. No one complained.
Lindsey and Jamie sat near the young man with the crinkly hair. Every time Lindsey looked back toward the counter, either the old man or the woman was watching him. The phone rang and the woman answered it. She gestured to Lindsey. He left Jamie munching his hot dog and took the phone from the woman. It was an old, heavy instrument. Kasper’s had never heard of plastic.
To Lindsey’s astonishment, he heard a familiar voice. “Mr. Plum?”
“Bart, how’s my grandson?”
“He’s fine. He’s eating a hot dog. Is something wrong?”
“Nothing wrong. Just
