It’s easy to underestimate elderly people, especially elderly women. With their small size and soft-spoken voice, of course the world is going to overlook them. Cast them aside. Ella has worked with elderly people most of her lfie and she makes the same mistake. And it’s not until she meets the woman with the red scarflette, does she realize how dangerous these women can be

It’s a hot Sunday afternoon and Pizza Palace has just finished its lunch rush. Dirty plates and plastic cups are scattered around the empty lobby area. Ella’s just starting her post-rush-clean duties; wipe down the tables, sweep between the chairs, collect any stray table numbers. And just as she starts her groove, the front door dings. FRONT DOOR, the woman on the intercom chimes. Ella lets out a sigh. “So much for getting out early.”

She shuffles behind the pizza-making station and puts on her customer-service smile. “How can I help you today?”

A tiny elderly woman stands in front of the glass screen. She’s clutching a tiny purse almost the size of her head, and has got a red scarflette wrapped tightly around her wrist. “A medium pizza with no sauce and no cheese please.”

Ella blinks. “I’m…sorry….?”

The woman repeats herself. “A medium pizza with no sauce or cheese. Please.” Her voice is flat and dry, almost as if what she wasn’t asking was completely normal

“So….just dough?"

“I suppose."

“Ma’am, we don’t sell the dough.” Ella coughs to hide her smile. Then clearing her throat, “But I can offer you a pizza with no cheese. Maybe add a couple veggies on there.”

The woman narrows her eyes at Ella.

“A medium pizza with no sauce,” the woman speaks in a slow droll, like how one would speak to a toddler, “and no cheese. Please.” She emphasizes each word.

“Ma’am—"

“No sauce. No cheese.”

Now Ella has two choices. Keep fighting this woman on her pizza choices, potentially wasting an opportunity to clean before the next rush, or just ignore the rules and give the woman her dough.

So just in annoyed teenaged fashion, Ella marches to the back and returns with a big blob of dough in her hands. She slaps it on the table and kneads it into shape.

“That’ll be 21.23,” Ella says flatly, clearly done with the whole customer service act. The woman digs into her purse and hands Ella forty dollars. “Keep the change.”

Ella blinks again. “This is like thirty two dollars.”

The woman narrows her eyes again.

“Keep. The. Change.”

Wordlessly, Ella puts the 21.23 into the register and then puts the rest in the tip jar.

A week later, that same woman returned with the same odd request. “Medium pizza with no sauce and no cheese please.” And each time she bought the dough, she’d give Ella a thirty, sometimes even a forty dollar tip.

Part of Ella thought that maybe the woman was senile. That in some perverted way, she was taking adavantage of a frail old woman who clearly doesn’t have a grasp on reality. But then the woman hands her twenty dollar tip and the guilt seemingly fades away

The Red Scarf Lady. That’s what Ella calls her when she speaks to her co-workers about the crazy tip lady.

“Firty dollarsh?!” Crumbs spill out of Henry’s mouth as he attempts to talk with a breadstick in his mouth. Ella winces at his failed attempt

“Yes. Everytime.” Ella would usually swat Henry away with his questions and breadsticks but she’s in an unusually happy mood today. Today is Sunday afternoon, which means the Red Scarf Lady is coming in

Henry finally swallows the breadstick he’s been chewing on for the past three minutes. “What if she’s got dementia?”

Ella shrugs. “Her money’s going to a good cause.”

“Oh and you’re the good cause?"

“Broke High School student?”

Henry rolls his eyes and takes a huge bite out of his breadstick. He waves the remaining bit of it at Ella. “You’re going to hell,” he says with a moutful

The front door dings and Ella shoos him away. He scurries off to the back to continue eating his lunch, lest he be berated Mike again for eating on the clock.

“Good afternoon, how can—?” The Red Scarf Lady is standing behind the glass today. But today, she’s not wearing a red scarflette; she’s wearing a blue one. And she’s not her usual stiff self

In fact now that Ella has gotten a good look at her, this woman doesn’t seem like the Red Scarf Ledy at all. Sure they share the same face and the same horn-rimmed glasses, but there’s something about this woman’s attitude that’s different. Something about the way she carries herself like a poised aristcrat

“Good afternoon,” the woman replies, in a crisp british accent. “You’re finest Margarita pizza please. Small.” The way she pronounces Margarita like Mah-Guh-Ree-Ta almost makes Ella burst out laughing. She doesn’t. She just smiles at her.

“Of course.” Ella feigns another british accent as well. The woman’s face scrunches up into disgust. “Is that supposed to be funny?

Ella’s face reddens. “Oh...I thought you were—“

“You thought I was what?” The woman’s voice is clipped. That same thick british accent more pronounced now. “You Americans always think that speaking in an educated way is somehow entertaining. Honestly how you people go around talking like how you do astounds me.”

“S-Sorry.”

“No matter.” She waves Ella off. “My pizza please.”

“That’ll be 15.63.” Ella tries not to look at the Red Scarf Lady as she digs into her purse. This, she thinks to herself, is her favroite part. The anticipation. The guessing. How much is she gonna get this time? Maybe she could finally get that phone case she found on Etsy the other day.

“Here you are.” The woman hands her a twenty dollar bill. Five dollars? That’s a little lower than usual but any tip is fine Ella guesses. It may also be from the fact that the woman may have been a little offended at Ella’s impersonation of the accent. But isn’t it odd how all of a sudden the Red Scarf Lady is british? And she wants a regular pizza?

Ella goes to drop the five dollars into the tip jar but is abruptly stopped by the woman. “What are you doing?"

Ella’s eyes widen and her mouth makes a round ‘Oh’ shape. Deer in headlights.

“I’d very much like my change back.” She holds her hand out while glaring at Ella.

“Right.” Ella drops the cash onto the woman’s hand and watches her leave. The Red Scarf Lady—or whoever that woman was, did not leave her thirty dollar tip. Or a forty dollar. Or any tip for that matter. She came up, ordered a pizza, and went about her business like any other customer.

The following week, the Red Scarf Lady returned. Or now she was the Blue Scarf Lady. “Small Margarita please.” Thick british accent. No tip.

This went on for weeks. Until finally, the woman returned with a red scarf, an American accent, and that same odd order.

“Keep the change.” The woman gestures towards the tip jar.

“Are you a twin?” Ella finally asked. She was behind the register, about to hand the woman her cash back. The woman eyes Ella suspiciously.

“Well there’s this British lady that comes in sometimes,” Ella continues, determined to get to the bottom of this mystery. “She looks exactly like you, wears the exact same thing as you, yet you guys could not be more different.”

“Sometimes people look alike, dear. It’s not that uncommon.”

“No but she looks EXACTLY like you. Like if you saw a picture of her, you’d think she was your twin too.”

The woman gives her a thin smile. “Thank you for the pizza.” Then she stalks off with her freaky pizza in her hand

The next time she comes in, Ella’s going to take a picture. She’s going to take a picture of the Red Scarf Lady, then the Blue Scarf Lady and then show them both the picures. She’s going to prove that no, Ella isn’t going crazy, and yes, there are two women who are possibly long-lost twins

So when the front door dings on a Sunday afternoon, Ella races to the tend the pizza station. She pulls her phone out just to be ready—

But the Red-Blue Scarf lady is wearing green today. And this woman is wearing a deep, genuine smile. “Good afternoon!” The woman chirps in a thick scottish accent.