“You just wait. That day will come.” Becca dabbed at her eyes. Had I made her cry with my storytelling, with the reminiscence? “He’ll call you on Christmas…or come see you.”
“You have my number…if he asks…in your Rolodex, or whatever?”
“No, Noah. It’s 2017. I have it in the computer, and he will ask eventually…or get it some other way,” Becca promised. “How could anyone resist such a romantic and sweet offering?”
The word sweet reminded me I hadn’t yet ordered whatever confection I intended to take to the law office holiday bash. I made a mental note to stop at Holiday Brothers’ after work.
“Do you still play the cymbals?” Becca asked.
“Nah. I wasn’t in the band for long.”
“How come?”
“Just one of those things.”
I took off after that to continue my route. It was another long day, w
