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She had to keep the firm alive long enough to get to that class-action settlement. She opened her purse, a well-worn Coach barrel bag, and rummaged inside for her wallet. House keys, old Kleenexes, and a silver Motorola tumbled by, but her wallet wasn’t there. She used a black pocket Filofax as a wallet: a chubby little organizer that held her credit cards, cash, and change.
    “Bennie, you don’t have to reimburse me,” Anne said. “Buy me a T-shirt next time you go food shopping.”
    But Bennie wasn’t listening. She’d reached the bottom of the bag, and her wallet wasn’t in it. She dropped the bag heavily on her desk chair, eyeballing her desk. Marked-up briefs, stacks of correspondence, Xeroxed cases, and a rubber-band gun covered its surface, snowing in a laptop and an empty coffee mug. She moved the stuff aside, searching. “Please tell me I didn’t lose my wallet. I can’t function without that thing.”
    “When did you have it last?” Mary asked, but Bennie was already mentally retracing her steps.
    “It’s Friday. I walked the dog, then I got dressed and left for work. I stopped off at Dunkin’ Donuts for a coffee. Extra cream, extra sugar.”
    “Maybe you left it at the Dunkin’?”
    “No.” Bennie shook her head. Usually, she didn’t take her wallet out of her purse at a Dunkin’ run. She would just slide out two bills, so she didn’t have to juggle wallet, purse, and briefcase. Then she’d pay and leave the change in the tip cup. “This is odd. I know it was in my purse. I remember seeing it.”
    Mary folded her arms. “Maybe you’re remembering wrong. You were probably thinking about your meeting this morning.”
    “Maybe.” Bennie flashed on the scene in the Dunkin’ Donuts. It had been crowded. She’d been preoccupied with thoughts of Ray and money. She’d skimmed the headlines of the newspapers on the metal rack near the counter. MORE BUSINESS DOWNTURNS EXPECTED. LAYOFFS CONTINUE. The news had depressed her. “I must have left it there.”
    “I’ll call the store for you,” Murphy offered. “Is it the one near the office?”
    “I’d cancel your credit cards too, Bennie,” Mary said.
    Judy was studying her boss’s face with care. “You have been kind of forgetful lately, Coach. Is something the matter?”
    “Not at all,” Bennie answered. She faked a smile and slipped St. Amien’s check into the side pocket of her purse. “What could be the matter? We just scored a huge class action!”
    “Go, us!” Carrier cheered, and the associates all clapped. “Musta been the pink hair, huh, boss?”
    “Musta been,” Bennie agreed, and this time her smile was genuine.

3
    Bennie had taken her lunchtime run to Dunkin’ Donuts, looking for her wallet. It hadn’t been there, and she’d run back to the office, cooling down along the route she took into work, jogging in the prematurely warm weather past happy crowds, budding trees, and air that was clean, for Philadelphia. She kept scanning the curb in case she’d dropped the wallet, but no dice. She’d have to cancel the credit cards when she got back to her desk.
    She ended up at her office building, extracted a promise from the front security guard to keep an eye out for the missing wallet, and scooted inside the elevator. She scanned the empty cab for her wallet, then leaned against the wall as the steel doors slid closed. She bent down to catch her breath, leaning over her ratty tank top, loose Champion gym shorts, and old Sauconys with the curled-up toes. The only sound was her panting until the elevator reached her floor, where there was quite a ruckus. The elevator doors slid open, and fifty people were mobbing the reception area. She prayed they weren’t her creditors.
    Bennie stepped off the elevator into the crowd, but it was so thick nobody noticed her. They occupied all of the waiting-room chairs and stood talking and laughing among themselves. They were of all shapes and sizes—young, very old, men and