18
When the penny finally dropped, Cissy didn’t seem angry as much as curious.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I heard you got out early and wanted to help you celebrate. Lunch is on me.”
“Really? You’re buying lunch?” she asked. When I nodded, she waved at a waitperson still too fresh to look put out and said, “I’m sorry—I changed my mind. Could we get a couple of drinks while we decide?”
She rattled off a long name that suggested the drinks would be meals in themselves, calorically if not nutritionally.
“What time is it?” she asked.
“Not yet noon,” I replied.
“Well, it’ll be afternoon by the time they bring ‘em. And drinks in these kinds of places tend to be heavy on ice and sugar and light on alcohol.”
I reflected a moment and agreed. “Except when they’re not, and that’s
