I sat two booths away, pretending to study a newspaper I’d already read twice. I’d come because Mom had told me Walt would be there Sunday morning, and I wanted to understand why she had chosen to wait for him instead of confronting the man herself.
Now I was beginning to understand.
Walt carefully placed the receipt on the table.
“Did he give you trouble?”
Mom smiled faintly.
“Nothing I haven’t seen before.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
She looked down.
“He sent his eggs back twice.”
Walt nodded slowly.
“And then he wrote this?”
“Yes.”
For a moment, the old man seemed to age another ten years.
He stared through the café window toward the empty street.
Then he whispered something I could barely hear.
“I thought I raised him better.”
Mom pulled the opposite chair out slightly.
“Walt, don’t do that.”
He looked at her.
