What could be more devastating than losing your job of 27 years to demolition? What if you were to have your car stolen and wake up to your dead grandma yanking you out of your burning house on the same day – on your 63rd birthday?

It all happened to Azalia Ralston. A seemingly gray haired, blue-eyed 5-foot-tall perky waitress that snaps gum and sarcasm at the Greasy Spoon Diner since forever.

"I'm broken...," Azalia whimpered to Irene, her friend with the blind ex-policeman husband called Max. "...too young to retire, too old to get hired; my home and workplace turned to dust and ashes overnight. My car probably in the chop shop. There's more...

All that's left is for me to pose here on this park bench and die. Will you haul me in a shopping cart, a cardboard furniture crate, and an old coat for a pillow to make me a proper bum?"

"And you called me to... what... join you on your bench?"

"I called you because I don't want to die cold and alone."

"Hogwash, Azalia! I won't watch you die. But I will call someone who pulls her Wonder Woman cape out of her closet on demand." Irene grabbed her phone and told it, "Call Joan."

The phone squawked. Irene said, "Hey, Joan. What are you doing today..."?

Can Joan Freed, the covert rebel life coach, reignite Azalia's fire? What will it take? And why is Azalia only seemingly a perky waitress that snaps gum and sarcasm? Is there more to her story? What has Azalia kept from Irene... and all her customers at the Greasy Spoon Diner?