Past Forward Volume 1 Read Online Free PDF Page B

with tuna. Tuna is for winter.”
    Unable to find a suitable response for such
a strange statement, Brendan suggested the chicken parmesan and
scribbled on his pad when she agreed. As she waited for her meal,
she picked at her salad and watched the activity at the restaurant
with great interest. Business people discussed things in hushed,
serious tones, often glancing at paperwork with concentrated
expressions on their faces. Couples ate slowly, occasionally
touching hands or even a face. Inside jokes made ordinary things
seem delightful, and the scenes were very interesting to
Willow.
    One couple, obviously married for many
years, ate in a rhythm almost synchronized. Each anticipated the
other’s movement and countered it with their own. They filled
unspoken requests and all without looking at one another. At one
point, the couple glanced up at each other at exactly the same time
and their faces lit up with a special understanding that seemed
particularly precious to her. She’d never seen that kind of
relationship in action. It was all so interesting and exciting.
    Once Willow finished her meal, she walked up
Main Street to the convenience store and entered the restroom. As
she changed her shoes, she mused over the lunch, the menu, the
ridiculous amount of money she’d spent for a single meal and then
her heart sank.
    “I forgot a tip! I knew there was something
else. In books—and Mother mentioned it too I know—they always leave
a tip for the waiter!”
    She jerked off her tennis shoes, pulled
sandals back on her feet, and hurried back to the restaurant.
Outside, on the side of the building with another waiter, Brendan
sipped at a bottle of soda and puffed on a cigarette. The other
waiter nudged Brendan as she hurried toward them.
    “Oh, I’m so glad I found you. I forgot to
leave a tip. You were such a good waiter too. I’m very sorry.” She
blushed, mortified at both her inexperience and her forgetfulness.
“I can’t remember what is expected—I’ve never left a tip
before…”
    The other waiter grinned and quipped, “Well
for great service, you usually leave the equivalent to half of the
bill; otherwise twenty-five percent is all it’s worth.”
    Brendan shoved his friend and shook his
head. “Don’t listen to him. Fifteen percent is customary. Twenty at
night with good service. But honestly—”
    She thrust a few bills at him and smiled.
“Thank you. You made my first meal at a restaurant a wonderful
experience. Other waiters might not have been so kind.” She gave
the man next to Brendan a knowing look and walked away.
    “Thanks!” Brendan called after her, but
Willow didn’t turn around. He counted a twenty-five percent tip and
realized as he did that she knew exactly how much she gave him.
“Wow.”

Chapter Three
    Bill Franklin caught up to Willow just as
she strolled up her driveway. He leaned over the passenger’s seat
and opened the door for her. “Hop in.” As they drove up the long
road, Bill told of the arrangements, his visit with her mother’s
lawyer, and the best pastrami on rye he’d ever had.
    “Maybe I should have gone to the deli. The
line was almost out the door, so I went to a restaurant.
Marcello’s. It was very good, and I had a very nice waiter.”
    “Did you and your mother eat there
often?”
    “No… I’ve never been to a restaurant
before—well, not that I can remember anyway.”
    At her living room table, Bill showed Willow
the cost of the funeral, the mortuary expenses, and made
suggestions for contributions to the minister for his time. He
showed her the addition he’d made to her letters with the time and
date of the funeral added—Monday at one-thirty in the afternoon—and
asked if he’d done what she wanted.
    “Of course! It’s perfect. And the courthouse
approved the permit?”
    “Well, not yet, but they said that since
you’re out of city limits, they can approve it as long as you own
more than ten acres and bury her at least three hundred