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. “No more.” Sam spoke firmly, holding Michael’s eyes with the gaze that had always been able to take Michael down a notch or two. “I support your mother and myself just fine, and that’s the end of it.”
And the money Michael sent was banked for his mother’s wish fund or treats for the grandchildren. Once, out of sheer necessity, it had bought a new hot water heater.
Sam slathered some homemade jam on a biscuit. “You see that new sign that went up on Rutherford?”
“Don’t think so.” Michael tried to remember. “It was dark when I came through.”
“It’s right pretty,” Sam told him, grinning proudly, as though the rest of the conversation had never taken place. “The Dairy Bar put it up hoping to get some highway traffic this summer. They got a picture of Main Street during the Strawberry Festival last summer. Your mom thinks we’re in it.”
“We are in it,” Mary said, coming to the table with a pot of coffee. “We was standing by the stoplight when they took it. I remember clearly because I thought the flash was the light changing and then we could cross the street, but it wasn’t, it was the camera going off.”
Sam gave his wife an affectionate smile. “Yes, well...” He sipped his coffee. “It’s a pretty sign.”
“How are the twins, Mom?” Michael asked as his mother finally landed in her seat long enough to take a bite of her breakfast.
“Fine.” Mary smiled. “Those babies sure keep them busy, you know.”
Yeah. Michael knew. His sisters, almost twenty years his junior, had both married right out of high school, and started families immediately.
“And Bob got a promotion down at the shoe factory,” Sam interjected.
“He did?” In midchew, Michael stared at his father. His brother had advanced?
“He’s crew manager now.”
“No kidding! What’s it pay?”
“Oh.” Sam helped himself to more eggs from the platter in the middle of the table. “There wasn’t a pay raise. Not yet anyway.” He added more bacon to his plate. “They’re waiting to see how he does first.”
Nodding, Michael finished his own breakfast and sat back. Only a year younger than Michael, his brother took after their mother.
“Bobbie Jayne got a part in a musical at school,” Mary said.
“Oh, yeah?” Bob’s ten-year-old daughter, on the other hand, took after Sam’s side of the family. She was smart as a whip and an outgoing delight. Michael figured she’d be great on stage. “Which musical?”
“I’m not sure,” Mary said, frowning, “but we’re all going to see her. She gets free tickets for the whole family.”
“I’m sure she can get one for you—and for Susan, too—if you want. You just say the word,” Sam offered.
“When is it?”
“Sometime before school’s out.”
Would Susan be showing by then? “Let me know when, and I’ll check my schedule,” he said. He really would like to see it. Sometimes Bobbie Jayne reminded him of himself at that age, always looking for bigg
er things than Carlisle had ever seen.
“Oh, jeez, it’s twenty after seven,” Sam said, jumping up. “I gotta run or I’ll be late.”
“The station doesn’t open until eight, does it?” Michael asked.
“No, but Fred Hanson likes me there by seven-thirty in case we have early customers.”
“He drives by the station every morning to make sure your father’s there,” Mary added.
“He does?”
Sam covered his embarrassment with a laugh. “Yeah, but it’s no big deal. He’s been doing it since I went to work for his dad forty years ago.”
