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“What happened?” Jo asked.
“Sam got robbed unbeknownst to us. We went to this restaurant to have a lovely meal, and at the end, his wallet was missing. We kept promising the owner that we would come back to pay the bill, but he wouldn’t have it.” Becky laughed at the memory.
“What happened then,” Jo asked, fully invested.
“He took us to the kitchen, gave us aprons, and ordered us to scrub the big pots and pans to pay off our meal debt.”
“Oh, now that must have been awful and humiliating,” Jo surmised.
Becky smiled softly. “At first, it was, but then by some bizarre twist, we started enjoying it. From there, we applied for jobs in the same restaurant, and that summer, we spent days sightseeing and at nights washing pots and pans.” Her eyes glazed over as nostalgia set in. “What I wouldn’t give to have a day like that with him again.”
Jo gave her mother a sympathetic look.
“We never had a vacation like that again.” Becky smiled wryly. “When we came home, he spent time trying to grow the business, and so, little trips like those became infrequent.”
Jo reached over and touched her mother’s arm gently. Becky took her daughter’s hand and grasped it comfortingly. From there, the stories about her and Sam became more entertaining with fewer sad moments, and the two women retired to their rooms at peace.
