infrequently, but it sounded good tonight.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Bix smiling. Out of the corner of her other eye, she saw Josh frowning. No, scowling. She reached over under the table and found his knee. A moment later, his hand found hers and held it.
A skinny, redheaded college-age kid in another smiling-fish-head shirt walked up to the table and said, “Hey, guys,” in that same familiar tone Candace had used. His name tag read Tim. “Are we starting with drinks?”
“Sure,” Bix said.
“The usual for you two?” he asked, looking first at Caitlin, then at Bix.
“Sounds good to me,” Bix said. “Katie?”
Caitlin started to order a glass of wine, which Josh no doubt was expecting her to do, but instead she decided to see what her “usual” was. “The usual for me, too.”
Josh ordered whatever they had on tap even though he rarely drank beer and almost never did so with dinner.
While they waited for their drinks, Josh looked at the menu. Caitlin didn’t bother—the steak tips sounded good, and Bix said she loved them—so she was free to let her eyes roam around the restaurant. It still didn’t look familiar, so she started scanning the faces of the two dozen or so people in the place. No little bells sounded in her head.
“Do I know anyone here?” she asked Bix.
Bix’s menu remained closed on the table in front of him. Apparently he had a favorite, too. “Well, Tim serves us pretty often. Recognize him?”
She shook her head. Bix looked around for a few seconds, then tipped his head toward a very old man sitting alone in a booth.
“How about Sam over there? Widower. Eats here every night. Every once in a while you invite him to join us. He insists on paying every time you do. He calls you his little cutie when he sees you. ‘Hey, there’s my little cutie,’ he always says. Anything?”
Caitlin watched the old man raise a quivering forkful of pie to his mouth. It was like she was seeing him for the first time in her life. She shook her head.
“And you don’t remember the bartender, I assume?”
“Nope.”
He looked around. “That’s it for now. Sorry.”
So was she.
Tim brought over their drinks. A glass of some kind of beer for Josh, a bottle of Harpoon IPA for Bix, and a Corona Light with a slice of lime for Caitlin. Josh glanced away from her beer and took a sip of his own. She gave his hand a little squeeze under the table and was pleased to feel him squeeze back. He wasn’t enjoying any of this, but he was handling it as well as could be expected given the circumstances.
Tim took their orders—steak tips for Caitlin, steak sandwich for Bix, and a chicken club for Josh. Soon enough, Tim was back with their food. Bix was right; Caitlin liked the steak tips.
They talked during dinner, Caitlin and Bix playing “What Else Doesn’t Caitlin Remember?” throughout. Josh spent most of the meal on his tablet, which he’d brought into the restaurant. He said he was doing research. Every now and then he muttered something like “hmm” or “ah.” After they finished their meals, they ordered another round of beers.
“Pool table’s free,” Bix said. “Want to shoot a game?”
“Not really,” Josh replied civilly, “but thanks.”
“No offense, Josh—I mean it—but I wasn’t asking you. Sorry, brother.”
“Caitlin doesn’t play pool.”
“Oh,” Bix said, nodding and smiling good-naturedly. “How about you, then?”
“There are some things I want to talk to Caitlin about.” He turned to her. “Listen, I found some interesting stuff online. I think I might have—”
“You don’t play pool, either, I guess,” Bix said, shrugging in a way that made it clear that the information didn’t surprise him.
Josh seemed to consider it for a moment, then stood. “I guess we can talk about it after a game or two.”
“Now you’re talking, pal,” Bix said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Bring your beer. Come on, Katie . . . I mean,
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Bix smiling. Out of the corner of her other eye, she saw Josh frowning. No, scowling. She reached over under the table and found his knee. A moment later, his hand found hers and held it.
A skinny, redheaded college-age kid in another smiling-fish-head shirt walked up to the table and said, “Hey, guys,” in that same familiar tone Candace had used. His name tag read Tim. “Are we starting with drinks?”
“Sure,” Bix said.
“The usual for you two?” he asked, looking first at Caitlin, then at Bix.
“Sounds good to me,” Bix said. “Katie?”
Caitlin started to order a glass of wine, which Josh no doubt was expecting her to do, but instead she decided to see what her “usual” was. “The usual for me, too.”
Josh ordered whatever they had on tap even though he rarely drank beer and almost never did so with dinner.
While they waited for their drinks, Josh looked at the menu. Caitlin didn’t bother—the steak tips sounded good, and Bix said she loved them—so she was free to let her eyes roam around the restaurant. It still didn’t look familiar, so she started scanning the faces of the two dozen or so people in the place. No little bells sounded in her head.
“Do I know anyone here?” she asked Bix.
Bix’s menu remained closed on the table in front of him. Apparently he had a favorite, too. “Well, Tim serves us pretty often. Recognize him?”
She shook her head. Bix looked around for a few seconds, then tipped his head toward a very old man sitting alone in a booth.
“How about Sam over there? Widower. Eats here every night. Every once in a while you invite him to join us. He insists on paying every time you do. He calls you his little cutie when he sees you. ‘Hey, there’s my little cutie,’ he always says. Anything?”
Caitlin watched the old man raise a quivering forkful of pie to his mouth. It was like she was seeing him for the first time in her life. She shook her head.
“And you don’t remember the bartender, I assume?”
“Nope.”
He looked around. “That’s it for now. Sorry.”
So was she.
Tim brought over their drinks. A glass of some kind of beer for Josh, a bottle of Harpoon IPA for Bix, and a Corona Light with a slice of lime for Caitlin. Josh glanced away from her beer and took a sip of his own. She gave his hand a little squeeze under the table and was pleased to feel him squeeze back. He wasn’t enjoying any of this, but he was handling it as well as could be expected given the circumstances.
Tim took their orders—steak tips for Caitlin, steak sandwich for Bix, and a chicken club for Josh. Soon enough, Tim was back with their food. Bix was right; Caitlin liked the steak tips.
They talked during dinner, Caitlin and Bix playing “What Else Doesn’t Caitlin Remember?” throughout. Josh spent most of the meal on his tablet, which he’d brought into the restaurant. He said he was doing research. Every now and then he muttered something like “hmm” or “ah.” After they finished their meals, they ordered another round of beers.
“Pool table’s free,” Bix said. “Want to shoot a game?”
“Not really,” Josh replied civilly, “but thanks.”
“No offense, Josh—I mean it—but I wasn’t asking you. Sorry, brother.”
“Caitlin doesn’t play pool.”
“Oh,” Bix said, nodding and smiling good-naturedly. “How about you, then?”
“There are some things I want to talk to Caitlin about.” He turned to her. “Listen, I found some interesting stuff online. I think I might have—”
“You don’t play pool, either, I guess,” Bix said, shrugging in a way that made it clear that the information didn’t surprise him.
Josh seemed to consider it for a moment, then stood. “I guess we can talk about it after a game or two.”
“Now you’re talking, pal,” Bix said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Bring your beer. Come on, Katie . . . I mean,
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