When he parked and went inside, he was greeted by Bud Houston, with whom he’d gone to high school.
“Hey, Joe, it’s good to see you.”
“Yeah, Bud, how’s it going?”
“Can’t complain.”
“You working in the family business, huh?”
Bud smiled. “Yep, third generation. I’m the greeter today.” In Bryant one would have been laughed at for calling himself the maître d’. “So, I’ll bet you’re meeting your mom, right?”
Yeah, Joe thought. Why else would I be back in Bryant at noon on a Sunday?
“That’s right. She’s coming here straight from church.”
Straight. Wonder what straight Bud would think if he knew I’m gay?
“I can go ahead and show you to a table, and I’ll bring her when she gets here.”
“Cool.”
Elizabeth, known to her friends as Betsy, arrived a few minutes later. Joe stood, hugged her, an
