“Oh, hush. You’re going to make my customers think something’s wrong.”
Walt smiled sadly.
“Something is wrong.”
He put his glasses back on.
“And I intend to speak to Michael about it.”
I thought that would be the end of the story.
But twenty minutes later, the café door opened.
And the man in the expensive suit walked in.
Michael Bellamy.
The same man who had sent his eggs back twice and left my mother no tip.
He paused just inside the entrance.
His eyes moved across the room.
Then settled on Walt.
“Dad?”
Walt didn’t stand.
“Morning, Michael.”
Michael approached the booth.
“What’s going on? You said you needed to talk to me.”
Walt gestured toward the seat beside me.
“Sit down.”
Michael glanced at me.
Then at the empty pancake plate.
“I’ve got a meeting at nine.”
Walt looked at his watch.
“Then you’ve got forty minutes.”
