Chapter 41

We drive toward downtown, but park blocks and blocks from Civic Center, before looking for parking becomes a dizzying exercise in futility. As we straggle by a café, I see three things on the patio that I realize I’ll never be able to live without, namely a bloody Mary, a pile of pancakes with a fried egg on top of them, and an empty table for two in a shady corner. By the time Ben turns around to look for me, I’m waving to him from my seat.

“So you’re saying you want breakfast?” He’s laughing as the hostess guides him out onto the patio.

“Yes, please.”

“I s’pose I could do a bloody Mary,” he says.

“Yes, please.”