"Thanks, but I can't take this," I said. "It's probably worth more than I make in a year."
"Really? I always thought a bike was a bike."
"No ma'am, this is a really, really nice bike. Like, seriously nice. I'm sorry, but I can't take it."
"Consider it a loan then. Is that OK? – Sorry, I didn't get your name."
"Annie, ma'am," I said. Now I was remembering the ma'am.
"Annie, I'm Miranda," she said extending her hand. She had a nice, firm grip for someone who looked like she led a rather pampered life. "You can bring the bike back after you collect the insurance money on yours."
"Um, yeah," I said, "about that. I got no insurance."
"Well, then keep the bike as long as you need it. I never ride it anyway. It was a present from my ex. – The one who sent the letter. "
I was not making the connection, and obviously it showed on my face, because she continued with more detail.