Michael sighed.
But he sat.
Mom was standing behind the counter.
She saw him.
For just a moment, her expression tightened.
Then she picked up the coffee pot.
Because that was who my mother was.
Even after what he’d written, she was prepared to do her job.
When she reached the table, Michael looked up.
Recognition flashed across his face.
“Oh.”
Mom nodded politely.
“Good morning.”
He looked uncomfortable.
“Morning.”
“Coffee?”
He hesitated.
Then nodded.
“Please.”
Mom filled his cup.
“Cream?”
“No, thank you.”
She placed the pot back on the tray.
“Let me know if you need anything.”
Then she walked away.
Walt watched his son closely.
“Do you recognize her?”
Michael frowned.
“The waitress?”
Walt’s face hardened.
“Her name is Darlene.”
Michael looked confused.
“Okay.”
“Do you recognize her?”
Michael glanced toward the counter.
“I don’t know. She looks familiar.”
Walt nodded slowly.
“She should.”
