Holly Blues by Susan Wittig Albert

the booths. Brian and I sat down, ordered iced teas, and waited, listening to the blare of music from the loudspeakers and the crack of billiard balls from the pool parlor in the next room. Gino’s pool parlor is also a local family tradition, where kids play side by side with the grown-ups.
    “She’s late,” Brian said with an exaggerated look at his watch. He added, unnecessarily, “I told you so. Didn’t I tell you so, Mom? Sally never gets anywhere on time.” He scowled. “I hope she hasn’t wrecked my car.”
    I conceded that yes, he had told me so and no, she probably had not wrecked his car and was just about to point out that he was late half the time himself, when Sally and Caitlin appeared at the entrance.
    “They’re here,” I said brightly. I waved, and Caitlin ran to the booth.
    “We went to the petting zoo!” she cried excitedly, scooting onto the bench beside me. “I got to pet the alpaca!” She giggled. “He licked my fingers.”
    “He didn’t eat them, did he?” I demanded with mock alarm, leaning over to look. I leaned back, as if in relief. “Nope. There they are. All ten of them. Glory be.”
    Caitlin giggled that delightful little-girl giggle of hers that always makes me smile. Brian rolled his eyes, big-brother style, and scooted over so Sally could sit beside him.
    “We had fun,” Sally announced as the menus were placed in front of us.
    “I’m glad,” I said. “But I’m even gladder that Caitie brought all her fingers back.” I was rewarded by another giggle from Caitlin. “Okay, gang. Time to get serious. What kind of pizza do we want?”
    The next few moments were filled with a spirited discussion of the relative merits of anchovies, jalapeño peppers, green peppers, and onions. After various negotiations, I signaled to the waiter, who took our order and left us with plates of salad and glasses of iced tea (the national drink of Texas, even in the winter).
    Brian turned up his nose at the salad. “I’m gonna watch ’em play pool,” he said, elbowing his mother to move, so he could slide out of the booth. “I’ll be back when the pizza’s here.”
    “Me, too,” Caitlin said, jumping up. “I’ve never watched anybody play pool.”
    “No,” Brian said, very big brother. “You’re too young. You stay here.”
    “She is not too young,” I said firmly. “But both of you keep your mouths shut and stay out of the way. Any complaints, you’re in trouble.” When they had left, I said to Sally, “Caitlin has led a sheltered life. We’re trying to give her more experiences. Broaden her out a bit.”
    “Pool is definitely a broadening experience,” Sally said and laughed. “She’s a cute little kid, China. It’s such a shame about her parents—and her aunt.” She sobered. “I know what it’s like to lose parents,” she added, and I remembered that hers were dead. They’d been shot to death in their home, in a senseless robbery. But Sally had been an adult then, not a little girl.
    “You just have to wonder how much one small child can handle,” I said. “I’m glad that the two of you are getting along so well.”
    Sally nodded. “I thought maybe I’d pick her up after school tomorrow and take her to the mall to look for Christmas gifts for you, Mike, and Brian. Will that work for you?” She paused. “Speaking of Mike, I tried to talk to him again this morning, but he was in too much of a hurry to get out of the house. Do you suppose you could persuade him to sit down with me?”
    “I’ll try,” I said, “when he gets back from Omaha.”
    “Omaha?” Her eyes widened. “He’s in Omaha?”
    “On business,” I said, just in case she thought he had gone for the fun of it.
    She leaned forward, urgent. “When will he be back? I really needed to talk to him last night. I’m afraid—” Whatever she was about to say, she bit it off.
    “Friday night,” I said.
    “Friday night!” Her tone implied that it might as well be next