Unwrapped by Katie Lane Page A

pocket and squinting at the tiny screen. The damned thing looked more like a makeup compact than a phone. Where was the keypad? The receiver? The curved case that fit nicely in your hand?
    Releasing a frustrated sigh, she swiped the arrow on the screen as Mary Katherine had repeatedly shown her. A clutter of little squares popped up—little squares that did all kinds of things but call someone. She shook her head. Alexander Graham Bell was probably spinning in his grave.
    It took her a good five minutes to locate the square with the phone. She very carefully tapped it and was relieved when a keypad popped up. Mary had programmed Barkley’s and the family’s numbers in the phone, but it was harder to pull those up than it was to dial a number. Wheezie wasn’t senile. She remembered people’s numbers. She punched in her chauffeur’s, then placed the phone to her ear and waited. And waited. And waited.
    She glanced at the phone. The screen had turned black again.
    “Good merciful Lord,” she muttered.
    “Having problems?”
    She glanced up and was surprised to find an old bum sitting next to her. She had been so wrapped up in the silly phone that she hadn’t noticed him sit down. Which in downtown Denver wasn’t too smart. She scooted over a couple of inches and sent him a no-nonsense look.
    “If you want a handout, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until my driver returns. I don’t carry any money on me.” That was a lie, but sometimes lies were necessary.
    The eyes above the curling mustache and snow-white beard twinkled merrily as he nodded at the phone. “Crazy inventions. Seems like only yesterday that all you had to do is crank a handle and an operator would ask who you wanted to call.”
    Wheezie snorted as she started the phone sequence all over again. “Then you must be a lot older than I am. In my day you had a dial.”
    The man laughed. “I guess I am pretty old. Although when I get up in the morning and look in the mirror, I don’t see an old man with a white beard and wrinkles. I just see me.” He paused. “The body might be different, but the soul’s still the same.”
    The truth of his words had Wheezie glancing up. His coat and running shoes might have been tattered, but they looked clean. And instead of body odor, she smelled peppermint. It was a calming scent that reminded her of childhood Christmases back in Chicago. She and her brother, Big Al’s father, had grown up poor, but their parents had always had enough money to fill their stockings with peppermint candies.
    She smiled at the memory. “I know what you mean. Unfortunately, everyone else just sees a senile old woman who should be using a walker. And a walker is almost as bad as these silly phones.”
    The blue eyes that studied her were clear and direct. Almost too direct. It was like he looked right through her and understood her thoughts and fears much better than she did herself.
    “Sometimes the greatest gift we can give ourselves is acceptance.” Before she could ask him what he meant, he held out a hand. “Let me see if I can figure it out.”
    If she were smart, she’d refuse. She watched the news and knew thieves loved to steal cell phones. But the man didn’t look like a thief. He looked like Santa Claus. Besides, if he took off with the danged phone it would be a blessing.
    She handed it over. With only a few swipes and taps, he handed it back. She held it to her ear, surprised to hear it ringing. More than a little annoyed that the man had figured it out when she couldn’t, she was a bit snappy when Barkley answered.
    “I’m ready,” she said. “You can pick me up in front of the condos. I’m sitting at the bus stop.”
    “By yourself?” Barkley didn’t sound happy.
    “Of course by myself. What? You don’t think I can sit at a bus stop by myself? I’ll have you know that when I was a teenager, I took the city bus every day to school.”
    “Stay put,” Barley ordered. “I’ll be right there.” He