“No,” she said. “He said he’d call back.”
“Why didn’t you ask for it?” I said, and I hated the whininess in my voice, but when it came to my mother, it was like I couldn’t help it.
That’s when she looked at me, perplexed. “I don’t know. He wasn’t offering it. Who is he anyway?”
“Forget it,” I told her, walking over to the refrigerator for some lemonade.
“Suit yourself,” my mother said, going back to her paper.
She didn’t press the issue. She never did. She at least could have gotten his number. If Susannah had been down here instead of her, she would have been singsongy and she would have teased and snooped until I told her everything. Which I would have, gladly.
“Mr. Fisher called this morning,” I said.
My mother looked up again. “What did he say?”
“Nothing much. Just that he can’
