Chapter 21

Inside, except for an enlarged and updated kitchen, the Bottom hadn’t changed one iota. The tacky laminate-topped tables and plastic menus remained. Designer Fredi Zimmer swore every year that he was going to redesign the place, and every year Lorraine smiled serenely at him, served his pie, and patted him on the shoulder.

The smell of down-home cooking remained too. I watched Christopher take a deep whiff and break into a grin.

My stomach grumbled, as I imagined his did. There’s nothing like good food to downgrade almost any crisis.

A young girl I didn’t know seated us inside in a booth along the far wall.

“The special’s corned beef hash with broccoli and sweet lima bean salad.”

She dealt out the menus.

“What can I get you to drink?”

Henry mumbled, “May, not can,” but kept his head down.

Christopher and I shared a smile, and both of us said, “Only water,” in unison. Then we grinned.