It seemed to me that she was still dressed in the same outfit she'd been wearing last night when I'd been over for dinner with her, her sister and her mom. I invited her in and, once again, she breezed right past me and plopped herself down in my place on my large sofa. I joined her and sat down at the far opposite end of the couch. The two of us had a small staring contest, neither of us choosing to say anything. After two or three minutes, (it seemed like an hour) she finally broke the silence."Aren't you even going to offer me a beer?" she almost smiled as she asked the question."No, I can't say I approve of 16 year olds drinking beer." I replied, keeping my voice as well as my facial expression totally neutral."Why's that?" she wanted to know."Mostly because 16 year olds have no income themselves and simply mooch off the resources of hard working people like myself." I smiled a little to take some of the sting out of my words. "It is hard enough providing for my own needs without. Sam steered Susan to a booth in the extreme rear. An attractive waitress in a long-sleeved jersey with a script "O'Grady's" emblazoned across her chest arrived immediately, ready to take their lunch order. Susan ordered a double Scotch and the waitress had the grace not to glance at the clock. Sam asked for a Carta Blanca.Susan was still agitated. Her face was an ever-changing landscape of anxious expressions, some of them causing shocking distortions of her features. She said nothing; her eyes were cast across the room, watching the bartender as he prepared her drink.They were served, and Susan took a healthy slug from her glass. Before the liquor could possibly have had any real effect, she visibly relaxed, arranged herself in the far inside corner of the large booth, and waited for it to do its work."O.K.," she said, finally. "Last Friday - 'week ago Friday -- Emma and I were having lunch near here, outside, right across the street -- there." She gestured behind her, toward the.
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