“He worked here.”
I stared at her.
“Here?”
“For twenty-eight years.”
My mouth fell open.
“Then how did he end up homeless?”
Margaret’s expression softened.
“His health started failing after retirement. Medical expenses ate through his savings. Then he lost his apartment.”
She shook her head.
“Larry was too proud to call any of us.”
“What did he do here?”
“Mostly marriage licenses.”
She removed her glasses.
“He never told you?”
“No.”
A faint smile touched her face.
“That sounds like Larry.”
“What does that mean?”
She paused.
Then she stood.
“Come with me.”
Margaret led me down a hallway and into a small civil ceremony room.
Against the wall stood a wooden wedding arch.
I recognized it immediately.
“This is where Larry and I got married.”
“I know.”
I turned toward her.
“You were here?”
“No.”
She walked toward a cabinet.
“But Larry was here the afternoon before.”
I stared at her.
“Why?”
Margaret unlocked the bottom drawer.
“I asked him the same thing.”
She pulled out a thick binder and placed it on a table.
“He sat in that chair for almost an hour.”
