parents! It must have slipped from under my arm. I know I had it when I got off the train, but it wasn’t in the taxi when I reached my friend’s house. We searched. We came back immediately. And now it isn’t here!” She was almost in tears.
“Can you describe it?” I asked. She did. Her description was accurate. I was ready to hand it over, but I had to be sure, certain, not to raise false hopes. “What was in the purse?”
Without hesitation, she reeled off the contents: “Two envelopes addressed to me, invitations to Chicago and Wisconsin for the holidays, the tickets, a paperback book, lipstick, comb, tissues, a matchbox and cigarettes, but most important of all, my passport and cash in the inner zipper section.” She also gave her name and address without being asked.
With a big smile, I pulled the purse from under the counter. “So this must be yours! I had to look through it for identification; to be sure I gave it to the right person when it was claimed!”
She beamed. “Yes, oh, yes!” She clutched it to her. “Thank you, so very, very much. I am so grateful.”