A Sleek Black Car
Then a sleek black car pulled up gently beside the sidewalk.
Margaret barely glanced at it. Probably just another businessman wanting directions to a fancy hotel, she thought to herself. But the car did not drive away.
A tall man in a dark, neatly pressed suit stepped out first and opened the rear door with a polite nod. Then a young woman emerged from the back seat. Tall. Elegant. Perhaps twenty years old, give or take a year.
She wore a soft cream colored coat and carried herself with quiet confidence. Her blonde hair was neatly pinned back, and despite the obviously fine clothing she wore, there was something strangely familiar in her wide blue eyes.
She walked slowly toward the hot dog cart, never breaking her warm gaze.
Margaret straightened up awkwardly behind the counter.
“I’m sorry, dear, we’re almost closed for the night.”
The young woman smiled gently. “I know.”
Her voice stopped Margaret cold in place.
Something about it stirred an old, sweet memory buried somewhere deep inside her heart. The woman stepped closer to the window.
“You probably do not remember me.”
Margaret studied her face carefully through the soft evening light. And suddenly, there they were. Those eyes. Those wide blue eyes filled with quiet determination.
Margaret’s mouth parted in slow disbelief.
“Emma?”
The young woman nodded, already crying softly.
“Oh my goodness,” Margaret whispered.
