The door chimed again, and Dad and Saul came in looking as thick as thieves. They’d known each other since first grade, and, for years, they’d had breakfast together every Saturday morning. This morning, they’d revisited that tradition with sausage biscuits out at the Gas-N-Go outside town. I knew because I’d offered to pick up Dad on the way in.
Unfortunately, it did not look like they had brought me a sausage biscuit, but on the up side, Dad did have one of Lucille’s plastic containers in one hand. He smiled, raised it shoulder-height, and then set it carefully in the center of the trunk. I didn’t even pretend to want to make small talk, and if I had, my stomach would have growled too loudly for me to be heard. “What did she make today?”
“No idea. She said to let you open it.” I smiled
