Her voice choked again. “You too.” The line clicked dead.
“Hey, boss, how are you doing?” Peter stood in the door.
“Holding up.” He waved Peter inside. “That was my annual Bethany phone call to Ma.”
“I figured that. Wasn’t sure if I should say something to you about it or not.”
“They get harder every year.”
“I can’t imagine her pain; it would kill me if something ever happened to Molly. Shoot, I nearly had a coronary when she fell off her bike and smashed out those two teeth. All that blood—gah. Remember that?”
“I remember you going pale; I’d only read about that in books before. You’re pale anyway, but man, you went really albino that day.”
“So, how are things?”
“The usual. She gets real down, starts crying.”
“I mean you, Jared. How are you doing?”