LITMIR.BIZ

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window, while the interior was hidden behind a lopsided Venetian blind. A thought came to him: The slats always pull crookedly. You’d think they’d have fixed them by now.

      To one side sat a bowling alley. On the other, a bilingual video store featured posters of newly released films in Spanish and English.

      At the end of the mall lay a salon called Rosa’s Beauty Spot. Oddly, he knew that Rosa was married to the owner of the video store.

      He had been here before.

      Hugh sat in his car, staring at the cafe. He’d had flashes of memory before, but none had ever been tied to a particular place. The clatter of dishes in a restaurant, the cry of a baby, the scent of old-fashioned perfume would snatch him momentarily from his reality, and then drop him right back into it.

      His heart raced with an emotion akin to fear. There was no reason for alarm, yet it disturbed him to realize that he might be about to confront an unknown part of himself.

      Most likely, he’d psyched himself to believe he’d once worked here because of what Meg had said, Hugh thought sternly. Annoyed at himself for indulging in useless worry, he got out, crossed the walkway and pushed open the cafe door.

      The smell of coffee and frying hamburgers greeted him, familiar as a friend’s face. Still, who hadn’t smelled coffee and hamburgers before?

      To his left stretched a counter where a grizzled man in a cowboy hat sat drinking coffee. To his right lay a row of booths, one of which held a family of four. In the back, past an open archway, sunlight from side windows streamed into a large room filled with tables and booths.

      “Can I help you?” A young Hispanic man behind the counter regarded Hugh with impersonal friendliness that rapidly changed to confusion. “Say, man, you look familiar.”

      “Have you worked here long?”

      “About a year.” The fellow was no older than twenty, Hugh guessed. “I’m the assistant manager, Miguel Mendez.” He extended his hand.

      Hugh shook it. “I’m Dr. Hugh Menton.” He hadn’t meant to throw in his title, but it slipped out.

      “You’re a doctor?”

      “Pediatrician.” Hugh decided to risk another question. “Does Meg Avery work here?”

      “Sure.”

      A tall, blond waitress came out of the kitchen hefting a tray of burgers, fries and drinks. When she saw Hugh, she stopped dead.

      “Doggone you, Joe Avery!” she said. “What do you mean disappearing and then turning up like this? Does Meg know you’re here?”

      “I thought you looked familiar,” Miguel said. “What’s this doctor business, man?”

      Hugh wondered if he’d fallen asleep. This felt like one of those dreams in which he found himself on stage, expected to enact a role he hadn’t learned. Or in an operating room, about to perform surgery on an organ he’d never heard of.

      “You think I look like Joe Avery?” he asked.

      “Do I think you look like him?” The woman uttered an unladylike snort. “Come on, Joe, I worked with you for a year and a half.”

      “You served me coffee every morning,” confirmed the grizzled man at the counter. “So you became a doctor? That’s pretty smart.”

      “You can’t become a doctor in two years,” said Miguel. “I don’t think so, anyway.”

      “Sam!” yelled the waitress. “Get out here right now!”

      Through the swinging door barreled a large, beefy man wearing a white apron and holding a fire extinguisher. “What’s going on?”

      “You can put that away. There’s no fire, just a prodigal son,” said his wife.

      His wife. Her name’s Julie…no, Judy. Hugh stared at them both. He knew these people, or half knew them.

      “Do you recognize me?” he asked.

      “Joe Avery! I’ll be doggoned!” Sam frowned as he studied Hugh. “You got a new scar on your forehead. Where’d that come from?”

      “I hit my head on the side of a building, so the police tell me,” he said.

      “Get this. Joe told Miguel he’s a doctor,” Judy said.

      “According to Meg, he is a doctor, remember?” Sam said. “You saw the clipping.”

      “Doctors don’t serve coffee in restaurants,” said the grizzled man. “Although one time when you spilled some on my hand, you bandaged it real nice. I’m Vinnie Vesputo. Remember me?”

      “I wish I did,” Hugh said.

      The mother in the booth waved her hand. “Could we have our food, please?”

      “Sorry!” Judy carried the tray to them.

      “Would you mind showing us some ID?” Sam asked Hugh. “It might make things a little clearer.”

      “Yeah. I’m kind of confused,” Miguel said.

      “You’re not the only one.” Hugh took out his wallet and showed them the driver’s license. Judy came over and scrutinized it, finally shrugging as she absorbed the fact that he was indeed Hugh Menton, M.D. “I’ve got a year and a half missing from my past. To walk in here and meet people who know me feels strange.”

      “You don’t recognize us?” Sam sounded hurt. “Not at all?”

      This was a good man, Hugh knew. A man who’d helped him when he was hurt. “You took care of me at one point, didn’t you?”

      “Hauled you back from Oceanside like a drowned rat and held your job until you got over your pneumonia,” he said. “So that really was you that Meg went to see in Los Angeles?”

      “It was indeed.”

      “Quite a shock for both of you, huh?”

      “You might say that. In fact, you could definitely say that.” Hugh was surprised at how easily he fell into conversation with Sam. Although superficially they had nothing in common, he liked the fellow.

      More people entered the cafe, and Judy went to show them to a table. At Sam’s gesture, Hugh followed him through swinging doors into the kitchen.

      Metallic counters and sinks gleamed on both sides of the narrow room. Through a slim horizontal opening, they could see the counter area.

      “We can talk better in here. Besides, I’ve got work to do,” Sam said. “Have a seat, Doc.”

      Hugh perched on a stool. “Tell me about myself. What I was like.”

      “Incompetent, at first.” Sam lifted a metal basket of French fries from boiling fat, let it drain and set it under a warmer. “But careful. Man, the first time you made coffee, it was like you were measuring it for a science experiment.”

      “So that’s where I learned to make coffee.” Hugh had startled his office staff one morning when he arrived early by taking care of that task for the first time. He’d been puzzled when he discovered that he knew instinctively what to do.

      “After a while, you loosened up,” Sam said. “Cracked jokes. Sneaked in beer when we were working late. Talked me into driving all the way to San Diego to look at a panda in the zoo. You were the first guy I ever met who’s as crazy as I am.”

      “Me?” Crazy was not an adjective anyone would apply to the cautious Hugh Menton.

      Hugh had kept his nose to the grindstone through medical school, conscious of the need to live up to his legendary father’s reputation and to Andrew’s excellent record. Looking back, he supposed the other students had found his perfectionism annoying.

      “I don’t suppose you’d consider coming back?” Sam asked wistfully.

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